Supernatural: War of the Sons by Rebecca Dessertine, David Reed Read Free Book Online

Astoria, Barney’s mother believed it was a sign from Heaven. She was Catholic, of course, and she took her brother’s news as an answer to her prayers.
    Although he normally hated his job, Barney had been looking forward to today. He and his uncle had taken one of the hotel’s trucks and were on their way over to Red Hook to pick up a box that had been shipped over from Israel, or someplace equally exotic.
    Barney hadn’t paid much attention while he was still in school, so he wasn’t quite sure where Israel even was. He knew that it was a new country, and was somehow controversial, especially with his mother. Barney wished he had been better about his studies, not that it mattered now. He was stuck in this job and as far as he could see you didn’t need much learning to be a security guard.
    When James and Barney arrived at the Red Hook Docks, a worker signaled for them to park at dock thirty-six. The truck bumped its way over the pier. They waited. The diesel engine was spewing exhaust almost directly into the cab, but Barney didn’t mind. This was a nice change from the boredom of the hotel.
    A large burly guy in a white T-shirt banged his fist on the front of the truck.
    “You guys from the Waldorf?”
    James pulled his heft out of the truck to answer the guy face-to-face.
    “Sure are.”
    “Sign here,” the burly guy said as he shoved a clipboard at James. He signed without reading the form.
    Handing it back, he asked, “Where is it?”
    The burly guy motioned behind him.
    “Carton five. Says it’s extremely fragile.” he replied, then walked away.
    Barney leapt out of the truck to help his uncle with the carton. It was about four feet by two feet wide, made of fresh pine. The pungent tar smell tickled Barney’s nose as he bent down to inspect the roughly hewn container.
    “Stop dicking around and help me get it into the truck,” James growled as he attempted to get his short arms around the base. Barney complied, hastily grabbing hold of his end. “Lift up your side more,” his uncle said.
    “I am lifting,” Barney replied, watching as his uncle struggled to negotiate the carton over his stomach. His side was already much higher than James’s on account of his height, plus he wasn’t nearly as tubby.
    Holding the container awkwardly between them, they managed to crab walk around to the back of the truck and the closed back doors.
    “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Why didn’t you open the doors beforehand?” James demanded, breathing heavily.
    “’Cause you didn’t tell me to,” Barney said, staring at his uncle.
    “Well, put your side down first and open the door.”
    Barney squatted, holding his side of the carton. As he got it to knee height, his uncle’s grip faltered. The shift in weight distribution caused Barney to lose his hold, and the corner of the wooden crate hit the ground with a heavy thud.
    Barney looked up in shock as his uncle swore at the top of his lungs. As he made the sign of the cross over his chest, James simultaneously cursed Barney to Hell.
    Barney blushed a deep scarlet. “It’s fine, Uncle James. Let’s check it. I’m sure it’s fine.”
    They pried a corner of the carton up, and Barney saw that the contents were packed densely with hay. James pushed Barney out of the way and with one hand pulled the rest of the top off. Stuffing his pudgy hand into the hay, he revealed a clay pot. It was tall, burnt orange in color, with a good bit of dirt on it. James wiped away more of the hay, and revealed three more jars.
    As James inspected the first jar, its cover slid off the top and onto the ground, landing with a heavy crack . A strange, putrid smell emanated from the urn, which reminded Barney of the stench when the pilot light on their gas oven went out.
    When his uncle opened his mouth, Barney readied himself, sure that his uncle was going to berate him, despite the accident being his fault. However, before James could start yelling, the oddest thing happened—he