Confronting the Fallen by J. J. Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

key, of course, but
they will never enter the room while you are using it. It is your
home and only those whom you invite in are permitted to enter. Do you
understand?”
    Martin's tone was oddly formal and Chris, though
his mind was fogged with fatigue, wondered why.
    “Um, sure, I understand,” he said,
pocketing the key.
    “Good,” Martin said, He opened the
door, reached in and turned on a wall switch. “You'll find
toiletries in the bathroom. All residents are expected to be clean
and well dressed at all times. There will be clothes in the bureau
and closet. Someone will give you a wake up call before seven.”
He smiled. “Enjoy your well earned rest, Mr. Wright and, again,
welcome to the Hawkes Nest. Pleasant dreams.” Then he nodded to
Chris and walked away.

Chapter
5

    Chris walked into his new room, closed the door
and then just stood there and looked around curiously.
    He was standing in a living area. On one wall was
a long, black leather sofa with tables at both ends. The lamps on the
tables were glowing softly, apparently turned on by the wall switch.
A coffee table stood in front of the sofa and several ornate rugs
were scattered around the room.
    On the opposite wall was a long, heavy book shelf
stuffed with books of all sizes and colors. The smell of the leather
and paper was soothing. They reminded Chris of a library; one of his
favorite places. There was an archway across from the door that led
to a second room.
    Behind the sofa was a huge painting that took up
almost the entire wall. Intrigued, Chris walked closer to the picture
and took in the details.
    It was a painting of a battlefield. The largest
figure was of a man wearing gleaming armor riding a horse. The horse
was rearing and its mouth gaped open in what looked like a scream of
rage. The man was swinging a massive silvery sword that dripped with
blood and his expression matched the fury of his horse.
    Bodies were scattered around the field and in the
distance, Chris could see other mounted, armored figures as well. But
it was the man's opponent that caught and held Chris' attention.
    A huge, winged shaped was attacking the knight.
Chris assumed that it was a demon of some sort, because the wings
were webbed like bat-wings and its gore-covered body was covered with
scales of red and black. Horns spiraled out of its forehead and the
demon's lips were drawn back in a scream of rage to equal that of the
knight.
    But Chris was confused. The figure looked demonic
except for the face. It was beautiful. There was no other way to
describe it. The eyes were large and blue, the skin smooth and
youthful and, except for the expression, Chris thought that the
demon's face could have been found in an ad in some men's magazine.
It somehow made the whole battle scene even more horrific and Chris
finally turned away from the picture, feeling disturbed.
    He made his way through the archway and found a
bedroom. A wall switch turned on more lamps that flanked a large bed
covered with a cheery patchwork quilt. The room smelled lightly of
citrus. There was a full bathroom off of the bedroom and Chris found
a leather bag on the sink with a new toothbrush, toothpaste and
everything else he would need.
    Chris got cleaned up and slowly walked back into
the bedroom, undressed and got into bed. He barely had the strength
to reach out and turn off the lamps before his eyes closed and he
sank into an exhausted sleep.
    A loud buzzing jerked Chris awake and he stared
around blearily. Sunlight was streaming in through the partly-opened
curtains and he realized that he had slept all night in a strange bed
without waking up once. He felt like he had just fallen asleep.
    The irritating buzzing was coming from a cellphone
sitting in a charger on the bed-side table that he hadn't noticed the
night before. He reached out and fumbled clumsily for it, finally
grabbing it and clicking the correct button.
    “Hello?” he mumbled.
    “Good morning, Mr. Wright,” a cheerful
female