Forsaken Read Online Free PDF Page B

met all the requirements.”
    Harper swung his dark gaze toward him. “Why do you give a shit? Looking to get a piece of that, are you?”
    Riley’s dad shifted in his chair, his face growing red with anger. Beck, on the other hand, was icy calm. It wasn’t what she’d expected of him.
    He popped open the top of the second bottle, took a long swig, then smacked his lips. “Nah, she’s too young. She can’t buy me beer.”
    “Damned straight,” someone called out. “Nothin’ more than jailbait.”
    Her father’s frown deepened.
    “I say we eyeball the library’s security tapes,” Beck said in a thick drawl, heavier than usual. “That’ll tell us if there was another demon there.”
    “Take too long to get them. We need to vote on this,” Harper argued.
    “We don’t need the tapes, Master.” That was Simon Adler, Harper’s apprentice. He was tall and blue-eyed with bright blond hair that swirled in waves. When Riley was small, her mom bought an angel for the top of the Christmas tree; Simon’s hair was the same color. A couple of years older than her, he wore jeans and a Blessid Union of Souls T-shirt. A wooden cross hung from a thick leather cord around his neck.
    “There’s already a video of it on the Internet,” he said, gesturing toward a laptop on the table in front of him. She was surprised he’d bring it into this dustbowl.
    Harper threw him a furious look. “Who the hell asked you?”
    “Sorry,” Simon replied, “but I thought we’d want to know the truth.”
    “You keep your goddamned mouth shut unless I say otherwise, got it?”
    The apprentice winced at the blasphemy.
    Beck cut in. “Come on now, Simon’s doin’ what any good trapper would do—keepin’ tabs on the demons. That’s what yer teachin’ him, isn’t it?”
    Harper’s face turned dark with anger, making the scar stand out.
    “Let’s see it,” Jackson called out. “Maybe it’ll make our report to the Church easier.”
    The Church. The trappers only captured the demons; the Church was responsible for dealing with them after that. It was a complex arrangement, but it had held together for centuries. The Guild always went out of its way not to piss off the Church.
    Simon tapped away on the keyboard as men crowded around. There were too many trappers, so it looked like they’d have to take turns watching the screen. A running commentary began at the same time as the video.
    “Damn, look at that flying tackle,” Morton said. “That had to hurt.”
    It had.
    “She got him!” one of them called out.
    “Oh, my God, look at the—”
    Bookshelves. A tremendous crash came from the computer speakers. Exhausted and shaking, Riley sank into the closest chair. Her dad pushed a bottle of water her way. She twisted off the plastic cap and sucked the cool liquid down, gulp after gulp. Her stomach rumbled, a reminder she’d not eaten since breakfast.
    Her dad hadn’t hurried over to watch the video. There was only one reason for that. He thinks I screwed up.
    That hurt more than the burning demon bite.
    Finally, Simon set the computer in front of her father. “Just press this key and it’ll play,” he said. He gave Riley a quick smile and retreated.
    Trappers moved in behind her, talking among themselves. One of them was Beck. She gritted her teeth at what was to come.
    “You ready?” her dad asked.
    She nodded.
    It was worse the second time around. Like watching one of the Demonland episodes on television, only this time she was the star and there was no stunt double. Whoever captured the video did a pretty good job, though the picture would swing wildly every now then.
    This is all over the Internet. People in foreign countries would watch it and laugh at her. Mock her. There would be no hiding from this.
    “Look at all that stuff blowing around,” someone exclaimed.
    Beck sucked in a sharp breath as the bookshelves committed suicide. The final portion of the video showed Riley limping out of the library,