Bloodfire (Empire of Fangs) by Andrew Domonkos Read Free Book Online Page A

over.”
     
    Mark followed his brother out in the hallway.   Leo wore a ridiculous ponytail that hung over the back of his suit.   Mark imagined what his father might think if he could see this: Leonard getting Mark out of jail instead of the other way around.   The old man would keel over all over again.  
     

8.
     

     

     
    Outside of the Blue Bunny hotel off Martin Luther King Boulevard a few dozen miles south of the nation’s capital, gun shots were ringing out.  
     
    Jonathan was unaccustomed to the sound, and each shot, both far and close, made him broil with anxiety.   He had spent the first hour hiding in the bathroom, where he thought the extra fortification would at least slow the bullets down some if they came in his direction.   There seemed to be some kind of war going on in the streets outside of the dirty little motel room but nobody seemed to care.   But why would they?   Jonathan mused.   These skirmishes were a drop in the bucket when compared to the wars and discord being waged in the capitol.   One pen stroke in those big stone buildings could level entire countries.   
     
    Occasionally a cop car’s siren would whine, and the battle would grow quiet for a while, and then about a half an hour later the shots would begin to ring out again.  
     
    Jonathan got up from his chair and checked the deadbolt again.   The little lock seemed very insufficient to separate him from the viciousness outside.   Sleep, was of course, impossible in such accommodations.   There was also the problem of the roaches.    He had seen a few darting about.   He could hear them talking too.   Murmuring really, he couldn’t quite make out the words.  
     
                 But there were other things keeping him up besides the territorial disputes outside.   Being around Damon had begun to weigh on his nerves.   He pined for the days when he only knew the man through the impromptu photo-op at Whispering Pines, or an occasional phone call or email.   But now that he was Damon’s errand boy, he felt like his life was placed on the edge of a precipice, and that even the lightest touch would send him tumbling into oblivion, where more punishment undoubtedly awaited.  
     
    He knew what Damon was.   He was a demon sent to torture him.   To break his mind into a million scattered pieces.   He remembered the years he spent in seminary, before he was ousted as a deviant by that nosy deacon.   He had forgotten much of the preaching that went on there, but not the sermons that talked about hell and the creatures that dwelled there.   Perhaps Damon had come as some sort of ironic penance.   He had done very bad things in his life, so bad that he once thought himself a demon, until he saw the real thing.   Now he knew he was but a whelp to be manipulated.   A tool to be tossed aside the second his use ran out.  
     
    And now with Norah at his side, Damon had even more political power than before.   She was plugging him into all sorts of new networks of corruption.  
     
    More shots were fired outside and a few men began yelling and Jonathan could even hear their footsteps as the rushed past the door.   His urge to flee was becoming unbearable.   He was far too spineless to resist the demons up close, but if he could just get away…Mexico maybe, they wouldn’t bother to chase him.   Would they?   He stood up with all the intention of getting in the little car Damon had given him to run errands in and putting a few thousand miles between himself and the Casparis , but someone had come to the door and was lightly rapping.  
     
    “I have no money!   I have gun!”   Jonathan shouted, ducking behind the bed.  
     
    “Calm down,” the voice said.   “It’s only your generous benefactor.”    It was Damon’s calm and honeyed voice.   Jonathan swallowed hard and went to the door.   The roaches were laughing now.   
     
    Damon gave the man a long hard look.   “You appear to