The Second Death Read Online Free Page A

car and started walking.
    Acosta popped his kneecap back into place with a curse, and hobbled to the passenger side of Moreno’s car.
    Diago looked over his shoulder in time to see Fierro step over Miquel’s prone body.
    Miquel appeared unconscious. Please just let him be unconscious.
    â€œShould I shoot him?” The quaver in Fierro’s voice indicated he didn’t want to carry out the act.
    Diago stumbled and were it not for Engel’s iron hand around his arm, he would have fallen. No. No, no, no. . .
    â€œLeave him,” Garcia said as he walked away from the house. “He’s sworn his oath to the angels. Once this is over, he will be forced to obey me.”
    Once what is over? What the hell is Garcia up to?
    Garcia took Rafael from Moreno.
    Moreno looked relieved. He got behind the wheel as Garcia got into the backseat with Rafael.
    In the distance, the sound of a motorcycle shattered the sudden silence. Had someone from Guillermo’s house heard the shot?
    Diago pulled against Engel’s grip, hoping to slow him. If Guillermo came with reinforcements, the angel might retreat.
    Engel propelled Diago toward the second car. Fierro got behind the wheel, and Jaso took the front passenger seat. Engel opened the backdoor and shoved Diago inside. The angel got in beside him.
    Diago hoped the two cars were going to the same place.
    Down the lane, the motorcycle roared as the rider picked up speed.
    Fierro turned the car around, and the other vehicle fell in behind them just as Guillermo arrived. Diago’s heart sank. Guillermo was alone. Not even he could stand against so many, nor did Diago expect him to make the attempt.
    Guillermo slowed the bike as he passed the cars and got a good look inside. He would mark them, though, mark them and remember them.
    And they would pay.
    Fierro and Jaso must have had the same thought. They tried to shield their faces from Guillermo’s eye.
    Idiots. Did they think he wouldn’t find out? Diago met his friend’s gaze for an instant before he glimpsed Engel lifting his pistol. Diago stomped hard on the angel’s ankle. Engel swore and punched Diago.
    Diago curled himself against the door, waiting for the second blow that never came.
    Jaso said something, but his words faded in and out like a bad radio signal behind the ringing in Diago’s ears. Engel barked an order at him, but it, too, was lost in the haze.
    Pain flooded his body, not in increments, but in hot heavy waves. It would be so easy to succumb, just let himself sleep.
    The image of Rafael’s frightened face suddenly rose behind his eyelids. Diago fought down his nausea. He opened his eyes and forced himself upright.
    Fierro gunned the car as they hit the main road. A pothole jarred them all in their seats.
    Jaso studied the passing countryside like his life depended on knowing the geography. Fierro risked a nervous glance in the rearview mirror.
    Diago twisted in his seat to look out the rear window. He barely made out the figure behind the wheel of the other car, much less his small son, who was secured in the backseat with Garcia. Beyond Garcia’s car, no one followed them.
    Not yet, Diago thought as Santuari faded behind its wards. Guillermo would check on Miquel, and then gather his Nefilim.
    Diago tested the cuffs by rotating his wrists. With his hands bound behind his back, he couldn’t form a sigil. He could barely move.
    Engel withdrew a handkerchief from his coat. “You speak Spanish, don’t you, Herr Alvarez?”
    Diago nodded.
    â€œThat is good. My Catalan is very bad. We will talk now in Spanish.” He took Diago’s arm and forced him to face the front of the car. “Guillermo has brought these troubles to you. Had he done as I asked, all this fighting would have been unnecessary. He is very lax with Los Nefilim. In Germany, Die Nephilim know their place and move accordingly.”
    That is a matter of opinion, but Diago