Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2)

Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) by L.M. Vila Read Free Book Online

Book: Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) by L.M. Vila Read Free Book Online
Authors: L.M. Vila
particularly disturbing upon initial observation but something definitely rubbed Michael the wrong way.  The room was no bigger than a hundred square feet with only one visible way in or out. Given the level of introduction, Michael half expected to see a mini-cathedral backstage. This was more fitting as a storage closet. Not the kind of place one would think you would repent for the final time.
    Footsteps were closing in. Michael’s enhanced senses picked up on it at least fifty feet beyond the door itself. He focused his attention towards the only exit. Each step closer appeared to be faint and calculated. If his cover was blown somehow this would make an easy place to execute a traitor. Well, the easiest place they could try anyways.
    The door opened, revealing only a dim light in the distance and a cascade of shadows everywhere else. A man entered dressed in a full black cassock. His build was impressive, something not seen on most men of God but definitely uncommon for a standard priest. The cassock was unique as well. Not the kind of delicate fabric you would think to see but something more practical, like a composite weave found in BDUs. Couple that with an outline of the holy cross shining in pure silver across the entire chest and abdomen made for an interesting costume altogether. Not typical priestly attire indeed.
    “Good evening Jonathan,” he spoke stepping into the light.
    This man was young, probably around Michael’s age. Brown hair lit up the top his head and followed it down all the way around his chin and lips parted neatly down the center of his skull. His piercing blue eyes locked on those of Michael’s as he continued.
    “My name is Adriel. I am here to help you make peace with God if that is what you so desire.”
    “No thanks.”
    Michael didn’t bother trying to outfit a character response. He replied in his usual effortless fashion.
    “Oh come now Jonathan, there must be something you’d like to get off your chest. Whatever your worries, I’ll be happy to listen to it and offer you guidance.”
    His act no longer seemed synthetic. This one appeared generally concerned. Michael hadn’t expected that. Maybe his initial apprehensive feelings were all for not. He turned his gaze away, hoping that the priest would take the hint and leave. There wasn’t anything left to discuss here.
    “Forgive me,” Adriel started, “I must offer my sincerest apologies. I did not mean to coerce you in any way Michael.”
    The FBI agent’s eyes went wide. Michael couldn’t believe his cover had been blown already. He didn’t even get a chance to discuss a proper escape plan with Meryl as this meeting was not mentioned in the initial briefing. Their brief separation was not calculated in the final briefing. Just before his head turned to face the priest, Adriel spoke once more, tearing Michael’s world apart with just four words.
    “Or is it Mavryk?”
    Michael’s hand shot out, clasping the priest’s throat and simultaneously slamming him against the wall. The tight grip locked Adriel in place but allowed enough room to sneak in a few words. Given the gravity of the name that man just called out, an interrogation was deemed necessary. Even while facing potential death, the priest didn’t allow himself to seem frightened or stunned at Michael’s actions. Almost as if he had already anticipated this response.
    “Come now Mavryk. I’m here at the behest of my organization. I only wish to speak with you,” Adriel gasped, choking on every word.
    Air quickly swept back into his throats and lungs once Michael released his death grip. Relief never tasted so sweet. For a moment there, Adriel was worried this meeting might go off script.
    Many questions beckoned at Michael's attention. The first of which would hopefully explain how in the hell did this man know Michael's given name at birth.
    “Who sent you?”
    A few more coughs echoed into their tight confines. Recovering from the quick attack took

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