Demon Accords 6: Forced Ascent by John Conroe Read Free Book Online Page A

shake.
     
    The first bite was awesome.  The second was interrupted by someone sliding into my booth across from me.  Twenty-something, brown hair, brown eyes, light brown skin: It was the girl who had been standing next to the photographer.  Her eyes were fixed on me and she smelled of fear.  It took a second, one I used to swallow my bite of burger, but then I understood.  She was afraid of me.
     

Chapter 6
     
    Actually, she was terrified of me, which made her sitting down one of the bravest things I had ever seen.
     
    “Mmister Gordon?” she stuttered.  She grimaced even as she stumbled over my name, dissatisfaction with her own performance easy to read on her features.  Her eyes narrowed, an angry look replacing the hesitant look.  Oh goody.  An angry person at my table.
     
    I took another bite and looked around.  Sitting at the counter was the bearded photographer, and he was trying to covertly aim a cell phone our way.  Grim blasted the cell phone before I could swallow.
     
    “How do you know my name?” I asked, noting that she was attractive and maybe three or four years older than I.
     
    “I’d be a pretty poor journalist if I couldn’t get that much,” she said, a little snippy, but still struggling with her fear of me.
     
    Taking another bite, I considered.  Grim had pretty much swept the room with our expanded senses as soon as she sat down.  Nothing and nobody was paying attention other than the cursing photographer who was now trying to fix his cell phone.
     
    “What do you want?” I asked, finishing the burger with a final bite.
     
    “I would like to interview you,” she said, watching as I picked up burger number two.  I could just about see the moment she realized how much food was piled in front of me.  Curiosity replaced some of the fear.
     
    “About what?  I’m a pretty boring guy,” I said, pausing in my burger frenzy to take a big slurp of shake.  I drank straight from the glass, the straw too slow for my hunger.
     
    Her eyes bugged a bit, then her mouth twitched a little, almost like she was going to smile.  She pointed at her own upper lip.  “You’ve got a little… yeah, right there,” she said as I wiped away the shake mustache.
     
    “Really, Mr. Gordon, you’re the least boring guy in the city.  At least, the police think so.  They’ve brought you in on at least five occasions in the last two months.  Everything from a supposed gas leak in an apartment building to today’s homicide scene in the Park.  And the commissioner seems to hang on your every word.  What was that you drew today that had all their attention?  And what did you do behind that screen?”
     
    “I’m sorry?  Who are you?” I asked.
     
    “Oh, sorry.  Brystol… Brystol Chatterjee,” she said. After a moment, she stuck her hand out for a shake.  It trembled ever so slightly.
     
    I shook it, feeling a frown on my face.  “And you’re a reporter, Brystol?  For who?”
     
    “I’m freelance.  I sell to many of the city’s daily papers and some Internet sites,” she said, pulling her hand back with a jerk. “I have a blog site, too. It’s called the Cryptic News site.”
     
    “And your boyfriend at the counter?  Who does he work for?”
     
    “Barry?  Oh, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my photographer,” she said, following my glance toward the counter where Barry was doing everything but banging his phone on the counter.
     
    “So what stories are you working on that involve me?” I asked, switching to some cheese fries.
     
    “Several.  But the immediate one is about demons… and gateways to Hell,” she said, eyes watching my face intently.
     
    “Demons?” I asked.  “What are you talking about?”
     
    She smiled a sly little smile.  She didn’t smell as afraid, and I could almost see her mind shifting to tackle the conversation.
     
    “Mr. Gordon,” she started, but I held up a hand.
     
    “Chris.  My grandfather is Mr. Gordon.