The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

The angel is the key to it all.”
    “This guy is crazy,” Sadie said.  “What does all that mean?”
    “This fellow says his name is Nero,” Henry noted.  “I wonder if that’s his birth name or if he’s some lunatic pretending to be the Nero from history.”
    “The only Nero in history I’m familiar with is the one who fiddled while Rome burned,” Edward added.  “And the best I remember he wasn’t a very nice guy.  Especially to Christians.”
    As if cued by some unseen conductor, the somber music of a violin wafted out of the jungle like a soft breeze.
     
     

 
    Chapter 4
     
    The violin’s melody was melancholy, somber.  It was soundtrack music for contemplating suicide or wallowing in depression.
    “Can you believe the nerve of this fellow?” Franklin said.  “I am not amused by this elaborate charade.”  He shifted from one foot to the other, unsure how to act when someone else was calling the shots.
    “I recognize the melody,” Henry said.  “It’s from Mozart’s Requiem.  The Requiem was Mozart’s last composition and was written at the request of a Viennese count to memorialize the passing of his wife.”
    “So it’s a death song?” Kelly asked, frowning.
    Henry nodded.  “Not very reassuring, is it?”
    Franklin gritted his teeth and ran toward the edge of the jungle, screaming at the top of his lungs.  “I am warning you one time and one time only.  My name is Franklin Griffith III, and I am an extremely powerful man.  I travel in influential circles, and I will draw upon that influence to make your life miserable.  Unless you show yourself and tell us what this is all about I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.  I have very powerful friends in high places that will make sure you never see the light of day again.  Do you hear me?”
    The violin’s music was like molasses-sweet and smooth and dark. 
    “Nero!” Franklin said, his face darkening like the heavens before a thunderstorm. 
    “You‘re approach isn‘t working very well,” Edward said as he ran toward the jungle.  “I think we‘re supposed to follow the music.  Let‘s go!”
    The group plowed through the maze-like foliage in search of the elusive musician, but unfamiliarity with the terrain was only one of the obstacles slowing them down.  Branches slapped at their faces.  Fallen trees blocked their way at every turn.  Dappled bars of sunlight blinded them, slowing their progress.  They were running an obstacle course designed by Mother Nature. 
    The more they ran the more it seemed they were moving away from the music.  Edward stopped to get his bearings, and the rest of the group stopped.  Henry and Franklin were gasping for air.  Henry, because of his age.  Franklin, because of the extra forty pounds he was carrying around.  Both Kelly and Sadie were in good shape and ready to run another mile or two if necessary. 
    “I don’t know which way to go,” Edward huffed.  “The music sounds like it’s coming from everywhere.”
    “The acoustics in this jungle will make it impossible to pinpoint the source,” Henry gasped.  “For all we know this guy could be watching us from a tree somewhere with his eye against a sniper‘s scope and his finger on the trigger.”  
    “This is unacceptable!” Franklin stammered, pounding his fist into a tree trunk.  “I will not be treated this way.” 
    “I think the music’s coming from over there,” Sadie said, pointing to a thicket of dense foliage.  In support of her theory, a red and green toucan emerged from the brush and took to the air, squawking like he belonged on the shoulder of a buccaneer.
    “Let’s go,” Franklin said, marching toward the brush.
    “Wait,” Henry said.  “It could be a trap.”
    Franklin waved the old man away with a dismissive flip of his hand.  “All of you can stay behind and twiddle your thumbs.  I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” 
    He almost reached the thicket