Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

answer. "I . . . I'm just passing through" was all he managed to say.
    " Passin ' through?" the man repeated mockingly. " And ya just so happened to come right to the home of Riagan?"
    "Uh . . . yeah. I mean, I followed the music."
    Cooper couldn't move, which meant he couldn't step away and leave the vision. He was totally at the mercy of these men. While one held Cooper tight, the other strode to the door and pounded it with his fist. Instantly the flute music stopped.
    "Come," a voice commanded from inside.
    The huge man pushed open the door, and Coop was wrestled inside by the other. Fighting back would have been futile so he didn't even try.
    "We found another," the man in front announced.
    Sitting on a tall bench on the far side of the hut was the musician. He was an old man with long gray hair and rough hewn brown clothes. In his hand was a wooden recorder. He too had a beard but looked cleaner and more put together than the two beasts who had jumped Coop. He gave Cooper an appraising look, then nodded to the others.
    "Be still, Maedoc," he said calmly. "I will be honoring his visit."
    The taller man, Maedoc, gave Cooper an angry glance, then nodded to the guy who was holding him, and Coop was roughly shoved across the room.
    Coop managed to stay on his feet and whip around, ready to fight, but the sight of the two hulking men wearing ratty clothes and looking like they had the kind of strength that came from a lifetime of heavy work made him think twice about doing anything stupid.
    "We stand ready," Maedoc said.
    "Thank you," the musician replied.
    The two men left, reluctantly, throwing angry glares back at Cooper.
    Cooper smiled and waved back. He then took a quick scan of the hut.
    A fire burned in the center, directly under the venti lation hole in the roof. Crude wooden furniture was scat tered about. There was a table and a chair that looked as if a heavy weight had landed and destroyed them. The legs were splayed and the wood was freshly splintered.
    Something had happened in that hut. Something violent.
    Coop continued to turn slowly until his eyes set on something that appeared out of place. A long wooden table was set up along one wall, and was loaded with the makings of an incredible feast. There were wooden bowls brimming with fruit, loaves of freshly baked bread, bunches of succu lent vegetables, crackling roasted meats, and pitchers filled with wine. A candle burned at either end, adding a touch of elegance. Running parallel to this table and pushed right against it was another. It might have been a bench for sit ting except for the fact that it was on the same level as the brimming table. This second table was empty except for a single pillow on one end, as if ready for a corpulent king to recline and partake of the incredible feast.
    It was an incongruous display of abundance in the peasant-like hut.
    "You having a party?" Coop asked.
    The old man glanced to the table and snickered. He put the recorder down on the bench and walked to the fire.
    "Forgive the rough treatment," he said politely with a thick Irish accent. "They be protecting me. Me name is Riagan, though I suppose you already be knowing that."
    "What are they protecting you from?" Coop asked. "Hungry neighbors?"
    Riagan glanced at the feast and frowned. "That feast be the last thing me neighbors be wanting. Those coming here seek something far different, but they be wasting their time, as be you."
    He tossed a flat brick of black earth onto the fire, mak ing sparks fly. Coop cringed. It was a chunk of that cow flop-looking stuff he saw in piles outside that was burning and producing the foul smell that permeated the village.
    "I'm searching too," Coop said. "Not for food, for a man."
    Riagan gave Coop a sad smile. "Course you be," he said, sounding tired. "They all be. But I have to be telling ya the same as I told 'em all: He no longer be here."
    Coop's heart sank. The glass shard had led him to the right place, but too late.
    "Wait,"