Blood Oath by Christopher Farnsworth Read Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Farnsworth
what else Cade wore, he never removed the cross. If it weren’t so rough and weathered, it might be something a rock star would wear. Instead, it looked more like the museum pieces upstairs.
Once dressed, Cade continued to ignore the carton. He stepped over to a computer terminal, the only concession to the twenty-first century in the entire place.
Unlike Griff, Cade had no problem with computers. Given time, he could learn to use any tool. He had to, if his kind was going to hunt an endlessly inventive race of tool-using apes. Anything a man could build, he had to be able to master. Anything a man could learn, he had to learn it faster.
It might surprise some people that Griff looked at Cade as the product of evolution. But he’d watched Cade, and to him, it was obvious: he was looking at an apex predator. He was human once, but that was a long time ago. Now he just carried the shape, which enabled him to move among his prey. Everything else was engineered to make him—and all the creatures like him—the most efficient hunter of Homo sapiens possible. What they called, in a different age, a man-eater.
But it wasn’t a matter of belief or disbelief for him. Griff had been with Cade as he fought—and killed—demons, vampires, werewolves, invisible men, aliens, creatures that had no names, and even one thing that called itself a god.
Most of those things had ended up on any number of government autopsy slabs, and he’d seen the results. And whatever else they were, they were solid. They existed in this world. And whatever put them together had to use the same toolbox of physics and biology that governed every other creature on the planet.
Sure, some of those hard-and-fast rules of science got bent pretty badly. There was a lot Griff didn’t understand, and a lot the government’s teams of eggheads couldn’t explain. Like Cade’s aversion to crosses and other religious symbols. Or the magic that bound Cade as securely as iron to the will of the president.
But no one had ever been able to explain quantum mechanics to Griff’s satisfaction, either. It didn’t make the science wrong. He just didn’t have the math.
Some things you just had to take on faith.
“You send the boy home already?” Cade asked, typing away.
“He’s in the shower,” Griff said. “Getting ready for his first day on the job.”
“Did you warn him?” The shower facilities had been built in what was once a lockup for prisoners who needed to be kept in secret. Some of them seemed to like the place enough to remain after their deaths. Occasionally the shower ran red with blood, and skeletal faces appeared in the mirrors, behind the steam.
“It didn’t come up,” Griff said.
Cade’s mouth twitched. You had to watch for it; it was usually the only way you knew he was amused. His fingers flew over the keys, entering his report on the Kosovo incident.
“You locked up the artifact?” he asked.
“It’s secure,” Griff said. He pointed to the carton. “You should eat something.”
“I’m fine.”
“When was the last time you fed?”
“Few days ago.”
“Cade. Eat.”
“Is that an order?” Cade’s tone was sharp.
Griff sighed. “It’s advice.”
Cade turned away from the computer, and picked up the container and opened it. It was filled with dark red blood, still steaming from the microwave. A mixture of cow and pig, from livestock kept in a CDC testing facility near McLean, Virginia.
Cade drained it in one long gulp, not spilling a drop.
The effect was immediate. He stood taller. His muscles corded and flexed, and his pale skin flushed before the blood settled down into him.
“Thank you,” Cade said, and threw the carton into the trash from across the room, without looking. He went back to the keyboard.
“So. What do you think of the kid?”
“Bit of an oilcan,” Cade said.
Griff waited. Sometimes Cade used expressions long out of date. It was a side effect of fourteen decades of slang crammed
Once dressed, Cade continued to ignore the carton. He stepped over to a computer terminal, the only concession to the twenty-first century in the entire place.
Unlike Griff, Cade had no problem with computers. Given time, he could learn to use any tool. He had to, if his kind was going to hunt an endlessly inventive race of tool-using apes. Anything a man could build, he had to be able to master. Anything a man could learn, he had to learn it faster.
It might surprise some people that Griff looked at Cade as the product of evolution. But he’d watched Cade, and to him, it was obvious: he was looking at an apex predator. He was human once, but that was a long time ago. Now he just carried the shape, which enabled him to move among his prey. Everything else was engineered to make him—and all the creatures like him—the most efficient hunter of Homo sapiens possible. What they called, in a different age, a man-eater.
But it wasn’t a matter of belief or disbelief for him. Griff had been with Cade as he fought—and killed—demons, vampires, werewolves, invisible men, aliens, creatures that had no names, and even one thing that called itself a god.
Most of those things had ended up on any number of government autopsy slabs, and he’d seen the results. And whatever else they were, they were solid. They existed in this world. And whatever put them together had to use the same toolbox of physics and biology that governed every other creature on the planet.
Sure, some of those hard-and-fast rules of science got bent pretty badly. There was a lot Griff didn’t understand, and a lot the government’s teams of eggheads couldn’t explain. Like Cade’s aversion to crosses and other religious symbols. Or the magic that bound Cade as securely as iron to the will of the president.
But no one had ever been able to explain quantum mechanics to Griff’s satisfaction, either. It didn’t make the science wrong. He just didn’t have the math.
Some things you just had to take on faith.
“You send the boy home already?” Cade asked, typing away.
“He’s in the shower,” Griff said. “Getting ready for his first day on the job.”
“Did you warn him?” The shower facilities had been built in what was once a lockup for prisoners who needed to be kept in secret. Some of them seemed to like the place enough to remain after their deaths. Occasionally the shower ran red with blood, and skeletal faces appeared in the mirrors, behind the steam.
“It didn’t come up,” Griff said.
Cade’s mouth twitched. You had to watch for it; it was usually the only way you knew he was amused. His fingers flew over the keys, entering his report on the Kosovo incident.
“You locked up the artifact?” he asked.
“It’s secure,” Griff said. He pointed to the carton. “You should eat something.”
“I’m fine.”
“When was the last time you fed?”
“Few days ago.”
“Cade. Eat.”
“Is that an order?” Cade’s tone was sharp.
Griff sighed. “It’s advice.”
Cade turned away from the computer, and picked up the container and opened it. It was filled with dark red blood, still steaming from the microwave. A mixture of cow and pig, from livestock kept in a CDC testing facility near McLean, Virginia.
Cade drained it in one long gulp, not spilling a drop.
The effect was immediate. He stood taller. His muscles corded and flexed, and his pale skin flushed before the blood settled down into him.
“Thank you,” Cade said, and threw the carton into the trash from across the room, without looking. He went back to the keyboard.
“So. What do you think of the kid?”
“Bit of an oilcan,” Cade said.
Griff waited. Sometimes Cade used expressions long out of date. It was a side effect of fourteen decades of slang crammed