The Sons of Adam: The sequel of The Immortal Collection (A Saga of the Ancient Family Book 2) by Eva García Sáenz Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eva García Sáenz
that I am sorry about the way this morning's conversation went. Look, I don't know if this is our umpteenth first great crisis, but we work it out together, ok? What I'm asking you is that you please give me a sign that you're alive, that you're breathing or walking around this world that we still dwell on. I promise to be patient."
11pm. I was mad, I admit it, but would she really behave like this, not come home at night without letting me know? And leave her car at the museum? I absentmindedly stirred the soup I was having for dinner.
But what are you doing, Urko? She's not like that and you know it.
I left the Swiss spoon in my soup, I left the soup in the bowl, I left the bowl on the table. I put a warm parka on, preparing myself for the cold I would face that night, and once again, drove to the museum.
I had a spare set of keys to Dana's car, and after parked my car alongside it, I got in, expecting to find something out of the ordinary, but I didn't. I crossed over to the building, which at that time was deserted and quiet. I had an uneasiness in my stomach that wouldn't allow me to digest the damn soup, and I was about to throw up as I walked into my office, searching for some comfort on my couch to think calmly.
And that's when I saw it: the dagger, the engraved runes, the piece of paper.
Carved on my desk were a few words in the old runic alphabet, the Younger Futhark, which was the variation used by the Danish.
I quickly translated the message that my son had left:
DOES IT HURT, FATHER?
BECAUSE I WANT IT TO HURT.
Next to the last rune, Gunnarr had rammed an old Viking dagger into my desk. It might not have been a thousand year old original, but it was worn and it was obvious that it had had frequent use. The small piece of paper that had been run throught with the knife contained the continuation of the message in the carving, but in a crude Castilian Spanish written in the Roman alphabet:
"I need it to hurt in order to be able to consider you as my father once more.
It will be quick, start looking for us.
You will reach her by air or water.
Will there be thousands, will they be beautiful?
It won't be big, you will find Massacres and Cathedrals."
I stifled a scream and bent over. Gunnarr The Trickster , son of Kolbrun, son of Nestor, had taken Dana to God knows what remote place and he had had the nerve to leave me a clue.
I pulled the dagger out of the desk and jabbed it into his words, beside myself. Splinters of wood were flying about, some embedding themselves in my hand. I didn't feel anything, other than the warm splash of blood that hit my sweater, just above my wrist.
I turned the light off and walked over to the window. Mother Moon had a dangerous look to her. Both of us knew what we had to do. I covered up the mess on the table with several heavy copies of catalogs and returned to our home with just the piece of paper and the dagger sticking out of my pocket.
Two hours later, unable to sleep, I wandered the deserted streets of a dark, cold, hostile Santander.
I looked at the city in bewilderment, as if an earthquake had destroyed our landmarks, the Paseo Pereda, the Eastern Market, the Stone Crane, the Monument to the Santander Fire...
We had boiled Dana's existence down to its mere exchange value.
I'm on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces and the universe won't even notice, I thought. It's going to ignore me again. It will turn its back and tomorrow a new Sun will rise in this part of the world .
I couldn't breathe properly, as if I had to breathe through a keyhole. My senses were numb and I hadn't felt the cold or heat for a while. I couldn't smell the salty sea breeze, I couldn't hear the crashing of the waves against the promenade, the buildings all looked the same, so impersonal that they could have been built during any period I had lived through. Or maybe it was the fact that every human being looked the same to me that night. A beast
11pm. I was mad, I admit it, but would she really behave like this, not come home at night without letting me know? And leave her car at the museum? I absentmindedly stirred the soup I was having for dinner.
But what are you doing, Urko? She's not like that and you know it.
I left the Swiss spoon in my soup, I left the soup in the bowl, I left the bowl on the table. I put a warm parka on, preparing myself for the cold I would face that night, and once again, drove to the museum.
I had a spare set of keys to Dana's car, and after parked my car alongside it, I got in, expecting to find something out of the ordinary, but I didn't. I crossed over to the building, which at that time was deserted and quiet. I had an uneasiness in my stomach that wouldn't allow me to digest the damn soup, and I was about to throw up as I walked into my office, searching for some comfort on my couch to think calmly.
And that's when I saw it: the dagger, the engraved runes, the piece of paper.
Carved on my desk were a few words in the old runic alphabet, the Younger Futhark, which was the variation used by the Danish.
I quickly translated the message that my son had left:
DOES IT HURT, FATHER?
BECAUSE I WANT IT TO HURT.
Next to the last rune, Gunnarr had rammed an old Viking dagger into my desk. It might not have been a thousand year old original, but it was worn and it was obvious that it had had frequent use. The small piece of paper that had been run throught with the knife contained the continuation of the message in the carving, but in a crude Castilian Spanish written in the Roman alphabet:
"I need it to hurt in order to be able to consider you as my father once more.
It will be quick, start looking for us.
You will reach her by air or water.
Will there be thousands, will they be beautiful?
It won't be big, you will find Massacres and Cathedrals."
I stifled a scream and bent over. Gunnarr The Trickster , son of Kolbrun, son of Nestor, had taken Dana to God knows what remote place and he had had the nerve to leave me a clue.
I pulled the dagger out of the desk and jabbed it into his words, beside myself. Splinters of wood were flying about, some embedding themselves in my hand. I didn't feel anything, other than the warm splash of blood that hit my sweater, just above my wrist.
I turned the light off and walked over to the window. Mother Moon had a dangerous look to her. Both of us knew what we had to do. I covered up the mess on the table with several heavy copies of catalogs and returned to our home with just the piece of paper and the dagger sticking out of my pocket.
Two hours later, unable to sleep, I wandered the deserted streets of a dark, cold, hostile Santander.
I looked at the city in bewilderment, as if an earthquake had destroyed our landmarks, the Paseo Pereda, the Eastern Market, the Stone Crane, the Monument to the Santander Fire...
We had boiled Dana's existence down to its mere exchange value.
I'm on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces and the universe won't even notice, I thought. It's going to ignore me again. It will turn its back and tomorrow a new Sun will rise in this part of the world .
I couldn't breathe properly, as if I had to breathe through a keyhole. My senses were numb and I hadn't felt the cold or heat for a while. I couldn't smell the salty sea breeze, I couldn't hear the crashing of the waves against the promenade, the buildings all looked the same, so impersonal that they could have been built during any period I had lived through. Or maybe it was the fact that every human being looked the same to me that night. A beast
Similar Books
Like This And Like That
Nia Stephens
Earth Angel
Linda Cajio
Sudden Recall
Lisa Phillips
The Disappearing Friend Mystery
Gertrude Chandler Warner
The Middle Kingdom
David Wingrove
Tug
K. J. Bell
Half Blood
Lauren Dawes
Honor Crowned
Michael G. Southwick
Shallow Graves - Jeremiah Healy
Jeremiah Healy
Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 2)
Melinda Leigh