God Touched - 01 by John Conroe Read Free Book Online Page B

consolation prize.  Here Gordon , you’re gonna live a short, brutal, loveless life, but at least dogs will always like you.
    The Shepherd pulled his handler right up to me, sniffed my hand, licked it and sprawled at my feet.  Deckert snorted in disgust and held up his hand to wave his guys back, nodding to me.  “My employer indicated that we were not to harm you or restrain you in any way.  Vadim made that point particularly clear.” He gave me a curious look.   I shrugged.
    “Probably want to save me for dinner.”
    None of them thought that was very funny.  Tough audience.
    Turning, Deckert led me through the first floor of the house, which was tastefully decorated with antiques that probably cost more than my whole Precinct ’ s annual budget.  When we got to the front door, he paused. 
    “Vadim was adamant about keeping my guys from harming you.  Seemed to think it would be bad for our health if anything happened to you.  Any thoughts as to why that would be?” 
    I could see that Deckert didn’t like mysteries, particularly those that posed a threat to his men.  I just shrugged, not able to answer his question, although the image of Tatiana facing down the hulking Arkady came to mind.  
    “I helped the black haired one last night.  Tatiana.  Maybe she told him not to hurt me.”
“She doesn’t talk,” he said, frowning.
    “She did last night.” I said, staring right back.
    Our little stare down went for about ten seconds before he finally sighed.
      “Gordon, you’re leaving me with nothing to tell Ms. Demidova,” he said mildly. 
    “Well I’m sure she’ll track me down if she is interested, but you could tell her that I have to help a kid with a problem .  Of the demonic type ,” I replied and then trotted down the steps and out into the warm October day.
     
    The encounter with the Helbourne had left me drained.  I’m not sure what my power is or where it comes from, but sometimes I use up a lot of it.  Getting away from Demidova’s house was the first step in recharging before tonight’s house cleansing party.  My stomach was demanding attention again so I stopped at an Italian deli and got a Pannini sandwich, cup of pasta fagioli and an ice-cold diet Pepsi.  I eat a lot, but my metabolism seemed a little overboard even for me.  The deli had a few tables and chairs outside and I decided to sit and indulge two of my favorite past times, eating and people watching.  My life is hunting, work, working out and hunting.  There is a certain satisfaction in helping people with unholy problems, but that has wo r n thin over time.  It would be appropriate to consider the tapestry of my life to be woven from chain mail.  Hard and unyielding, protective and coldly pragmatic.  But I really wished to have some cotton and wool interwoven with the steel links to soften the feel and warm my soul.  Family, friends, relationships and emotional bonds all seem normal and commonplace, unless you don’t have them.  I had Gramps, five hundred miles away.   Other than him, I had no one.   I liked music, to listen to and try to play on my guitar; I liked reading; I loved New York’s museums (mostly of science and natural history), and bad sci fi movies are fun.  At home I had the woods, a place where very few Hellbourne ever go, not because they can’t but because they thrive on the despair and agony of people.  The woods are relatively empty of people and are therefore a wasteland for the demon kind.  So to try to fill the empty spots in my chainmail tapestry, I like to watch people.  Couples, families, joggers, kids on bikes, gangs, street performers, bums, the old, the young and the busy.  All fascinating, all potential stories that I could imagine and try to understand.  High school had been hell, but it had taught me to go relatively unnoticed and I was able to observe fairly discreetly.  It isn’t much of a hobby, but it keeps the dark clouds that hang over my life at