Catherine Spangler - [Sentinel 02] - Touched By Fire (v5.0) (html) Read Online Free PDF Page B

warn you. You’re out of here.” He directed a power flow and the dog slumped, unconscious, its mouth still gripping Luke’s ankle. Shaking his head, he bent down and gently pried the jaws open before moving away. It should be out for about an hour.
    He did a quick sweep of the house, confirming no one was there. Then he went to the kitchen and through to the door leading into the garage. There was a car parked inside, a sporty red Solara convertible, the one he’d seen last night. Sweet. Luke took a moment to admire the classy lines of the car before returning to the kitchen.
    What now? Most single people didn’t own more than one vehicle, so Marla had either walked somewhere or gone with someone—a date? That would be a pisser, but maybe she’d been so damned skittish around him last night because she was seeing someone. Yet Luke didn’t think that was the case. There’d been something about her—a vulnerability and wariness that told him she was a loner.
    Regardless, he planned to wait for her. To try to explain what he was, and convince her to help him. He didn’t have time for a civilized dance of getting acquainted. But what if she didn’t come home tonight? Blowing out his breath, he considered his options.
    If she didn’t return soon, he’d have to track her down.
     
     
    HE watched the blood oozing from the self-inflicted cut on his lower arm. His arm throbbed where he’d slid the knife through skin and muscle, slowly, so slowly. Pain was good. Pain made him feel real. Alive. He liked pain.
    But he liked blood even better. Liked the red color, liked the smell and the feel of it between his fingers.
    Blood was life. Blood was power.
    He rubbed his forehead, listened for the Voice that came to him sometimes. The Voice could be annoying as hell, ordering him to do things when he was already taking care of it. He knew what to do and how to do it. He didn’t need the Voice to tell him what he already knew. Sometimes he wanted to scream at the Voice, tell it to leave him the fuck alone.
    But he didn’t do that, because the Voice had chosen him . The Voice had acknowledged his importance and ability. He knew the Voice wasn’t God, because God didn’t exist. But the Voice . . . ah, it resonated with force and with darkness and blood. It whispered that it was far more powerful than any other being in existence. That it was known as Belial.
    And he was the only one brilliant enough, deserving enough, to do Belial’s bidding.
    Belial liked the blood. Belial wanted the blood. Praised him whenever he made a blood offering of sinners. Especially a really big offering . . . like an entire busload of children.
    The children were tainted, just like their parents. No one was listening to Belial, or giving him the homage he deserved. They all had to die. Belial had been very pleased that justice had been dispensed.
    And because he was so clever and industrious, so intelligent, he would be administering many more punishments.
    He drew the knife across his arm again, far too self-controlled to flinch. Ah . . . The pain . . . The blood . . .
     
     
    UNLOCKING her door, Marla turned and waved to Scott. He waved back and drove off. She went inside, closing the door and using her key to relock the double-sided dead bolt. She put her keys in the top drawer of the small antique chest by the door, and turned, feeling a twinge of dizziness.
    Maybe the third glass of wine had been overkill, especially since she’d used one of Ashley’s largest wine goblets. She didn’t drink that much very often. And damn if she still hadn’t been able to focus on the movie, or put Luke Paxton out of her mind. Johnny Depp deserved better than that.
    Bryony trotted slowly into the small foyer area, looking listless and tired. “What’s the matter, baby?” Marla cooed, leaning down to pick up the poodle. “Were you asleep?”
    Bending over was a mistake. The vertigo rush sent her staggering as she came up, tightly clutching Bryony to