Dead Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

dealing with the subject were mostly locked away at the Temple. Even our Librarians, who prided themselves on the pursuit of all knowledge, thought carefully before cracking one of those books open. It wasn’t forbidden, but necromancy had a sort of ick factor that made a Templar want to head for a hot shower.
    Suddenly it made sense why I had come up with a big fat zero in my research so far. I didn’t have the right texts. Nor the right knowledge. Neither my Templar education nor my side hobby had delved into this specific branch of magic. I’d need to go elsewhere than my own library to find the answer to what the symbol meant. I had three sources I could explore, and unfortunately all three options sucked.
    And I was going to be late to work if I didn’t hustle up. I stood, brushing the dirt from my formerly clean khaki pants. “Thank you… uh, for taking care of them.” I gestured toward the markers, not sure how to take my leave of the two men without seeming rude.
    “It’s my job, Miss.” The elder man held out a hand. I took it and noted the warm grittiness of his skin, the solid feel of bones beneath muscle and skin, the firm grasp that went with the quick pump up and down.
    Nice guy. Sucky job. Although right now I would have traded him in a heartbeat, and I didn’t mean my part-time job at the coffee shop either.

    The coffee shop was busy for a Thursday. The usual lunch crowd gave way to a handful of people who made the little tables and couches into mini-offices, typing away on their laptops. Tourists wandered in, cooling down with frappe creams. I surveyed them all from behind the stainless steel of the espresso machine, feeling like a queen among her people.
    They were my people. I’d only been living here six months—hardly a resident, let alone someone who could claim any sort of attachment to this city. Even still, I felt like I belonged here, as though I’d spent every moment of my life among the streets and waterways. I cared about this city in a way I’d never cared about a place before. And I was as enchanted by, as protective of, the residents and visitors as I would have been a schoolyard full of children.
    Yeah, how sad was my life that watching random strangers like a benevolent goddess of caffeine in a coffee shop was the highlight of my day? I’d grown up so close to my tight-knit family that I’d never realized what a challenge it would be to made friends as a stranger in a new city. Templars had a bond of purpose that brought them together—the same bond that tended to exclude other humans. What was I supposed to say to these people? How could I turn random observances about weather and sports teams into a friendship? I could chop a gjenganger to pieces with a sweep of my sword, but I had the worst social skills in the world. No doubt that was the reason the closest thing I had to a friend was a sexy vampire that I hadn’t even spoken to until last night.
    I put a swirl in the crema of a cappuccino and smiled as I handed it to the hipster dude on the other side of the counter. I’d only been in Baltimore six months. Maybe friends in that short of time were too much to ask.
    One of my coworkers sidled up to me, bumping my fist with an empty cup. “Hey, Aria. What are you doing tonight? Wanna hit the Powerplant?”
    It took me a second to realize that Brandi was speaking to me. Yeah, the other employees spoke to me, as did the customers, but nobody had invited me anywhere. Loneliness vanished in a rush of excited hope. I’d never been much for going to dance clubs, but I would have attended a sewing circle if it meant I might possibly have a friend.
    But there was a roll of money in my bathroom cabinet, and the potential for more. I hated to blow off the only friend offer I’d had in…well, in six months, but I had to get back to work researching. And maybe take a nap.
    “Uhh, maybe next week?” What excuse could I give Brandi? I’m not really good at making things up on