The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Domino Finn
of the window, but he threw his hand up to signal them to stop any interference. Maxim was a little more heated than he wanted to be but he was still in control. He didn't want any interruptions now.
Instead, he slowly walked to the door and leaned his back against it to hold it closed. With a sly smile on his lips, Maxim simply stared at the harried prisoner.
For some time Diego de la Torre, in his hospital gown and tube socks, was a figure of resolute determination. But Maxim waited and the man's heaving slowed, his posture softened, and he eventually sucked his lips into his mouth and shook his head.
"Maxim," he said in a muzzled voice, "we're going about this the wrong way." Diego reclaimed his seat and ended the standoff. The resigned man touched the tips of his fingers together as he pondered his next words. Maxim stood up straight, off the door, eager for what came next.
"You might have your theories about what went down tonight, but you need to understand that these people, all of them, are very dangerous."
Maxim brushed his wedding band with his other hand. "Now you've finally said something I do believe."
Diego continued in a somber tone. "How can a man judge what actions are appropriate without knowing the truth?"
The detective put his hands on his hips and sighed sympathetically. "Our actions come back to haunt us, Diego." Although Maxim was trying to gain the man's trust, he almost believed in what he said. "In a way, all I really do is make sure karma holds up. We need to, all of us, be accountable for the things we do."
Diego stared down at the table, subdued. This was the moment, Maxim thought, for the truth to come out. The prisoner opened his mouth and stopped midway through, mulling over his next words carefully. He wiped the hair on his lips and swallowed hard. Maxim began pacing around the room in a circle as he watched the man come to terms with his current situation.
"What do you know of the supernatural, Maxim?"
The detective rolled his eyes as he stepped around the table. He expected a confession. "I don't."
Diego raised his head and said, "Sycamore has a problem with werewolves."
Maxim slowed to a stop behind the sitting prisoner. He leaned his head down and whispered into Diego's ears, "You're the one with the werewolf problem."
Diego blinked. "And what does that mean?"
Already prepared for the question, Maxim had his cell phone in his hand. He turned the screen on and gently placed it on the table in front of the suspect. Diego glanced down as 3:19 a.m. illuminated the glass for several seconds before reverting to black.
"It looks to me like we've gone far over your twenty minutes. If there was a shred of sincerity in you, shouldn't you be transformed by now?"
Diego appeared slightly confused, scrutinizing the blank screen. "It should have been now," he stuttered, "but planetary alignment varies from—"
"Enough with the stalling! I haven't seen a werewolf in thirty-two years, and that's not changing tonight."
Maxim hovered over Diego's back and the man turned his head awkwardly to face him. "If you don't believe me, then what are we doing here?"
The detective's open hand quickly struck the table, his silver ring making a loud thump on the cheap wood. "The confession, Diego! You said if I took you down to the interrogation room you would give me a confession!"
The suspect turned to face forward again, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Yeah, I said that," Diego started slowly, "but if I admitted to committing a crime, then you'd put me in prison."
"That," said Maxim as he circled the table, standing where his chair used to be, "is precisely the point."
Diego pressed his closed fist into the table softly to stress the matter. "Unless I'm not guilty of anything."
Maxim crossed his arms. "Then why say you're going to confess?"
v.
Suddenly, muffled gunshots shattered the peace of the night.
Maxim instinctively squatted down for cover, looking left to right, but it
Instead, he slowly walked to the door and leaned his back against it to hold it closed. With a sly smile on his lips, Maxim simply stared at the harried prisoner.
For some time Diego de la Torre, in his hospital gown and tube socks, was a figure of resolute determination. But Maxim waited and the man's heaving slowed, his posture softened, and he eventually sucked his lips into his mouth and shook his head.
"Maxim," he said in a muzzled voice, "we're going about this the wrong way." Diego reclaimed his seat and ended the standoff. The resigned man touched the tips of his fingers together as he pondered his next words. Maxim stood up straight, off the door, eager for what came next.
"You might have your theories about what went down tonight, but you need to understand that these people, all of them, are very dangerous."
Maxim brushed his wedding band with his other hand. "Now you've finally said something I do believe."
Diego continued in a somber tone. "How can a man judge what actions are appropriate without knowing the truth?"
The detective put his hands on his hips and sighed sympathetically. "Our actions come back to haunt us, Diego." Although Maxim was trying to gain the man's trust, he almost believed in what he said. "In a way, all I really do is make sure karma holds up. We need to, all of us, be accountable for the things we do."
Diego stared down at the table, subdued. This was the moment, Maxim thought, for the truth to come out. The prisoner opened his mouth and stopped midway through, mulling over his next words carefully. He wiped the hair on his lips and swallowed hard. Maxim began pacing around the room in a circle as he watched the man come to terms with his current situation.
"What do you know of the supernatural, Maxim?"
The detective rolled his eyes as he stepped around the table. He expected a confession. "I don't."
Diego raised his head and said, "Sycamore has a problem with werewolves."
Maxim slowed to a stop behind the sitting prisoner. He leaned his head down and whispered into Diego's ears, "You're the one with the werewolf problem."
Diego blinked. "And what does that mean?"
Already prepared for the question, Maxim had his cell phone in his hand. He turned the screen on and gently placed it on the table in front of the suspect. Diego glanced down as 3:19 a.m. illuminated the glass for several seconds before reverting to black.
"It looks to me like we've gone far over your twenty minutes. If there was a shred of sincerity in you, shouldn't you be transformed by now?"
Diego appeared slightly confused, scrutinizing the blank screen. "It should have been now," he stuttered, "but planetary alignment varies from—"
"Enough with the stalling! I haven't seen a werewolf in thirty-two years, and that's not changing tonight."
Maxim hovered over Diego's back and the man turned his head awkwardly to face him. "If you don't believe me, then what are we doing here?"
The detective's open hand quickly struck the table, his silver ring making a loud thump on the cheap wood. "The confession, Diego! You said if I took you down to the interrogation room you would give me a confession!"
The suspect turned to face forward again, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Yeah, I said that," Diego started slowly, "but if I admitted to committing a crime, then you'd put me in prison."
"That," said Maxim as he circled the table, standing where his chair used to be, "is precisely the point."
Diego pressed his closed fist into the table softly to stress the matter. "Unless I'm not guilty of anything."
Maxim crossed his arms. "Then why say you're going to confess?"
v.
Suddenly, muffled gunshots shattered the peace of the night.
Maxim instinctively squatted down for cover, looking left to right, but it
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