URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) by Aaron Patterson, Chris White Read Free Book Online
Authors: Aaron Patterson, Chris White
anguish and shock. He became a motionless target.
The demon Brother seized the opportunity and took the angel’s head off.
Uriel stepped forward to the headless corpse. Leaving the dagger behind, she removed Zedkiel’s sword from his hand and took it as her own. Now she would finish Yamanu.
CHAPTER IX
Boise, Idaho, Present Day
THE SHOTGUN BLAST SHOULD have killed the thing. 12-gauge, point-blank to the face. But it seemed like all it did was make it angry. John let off a little emotional steam with a blasphemous curse. He pumped the slide, jacking another shell into the chamber.
The beast hissed, “I know your name. But do you?” It roared, slamming a fist the size of a football through the wall. “Do you, Derackson?”
John squeezed off another shot in the darkness at where he supposed its face to be and then backed away. It had little effect, so he pumped the slide again and took aim. “Wrong house, idiot. Who is Derackson? What are you?”
Laughter. “You are afraid. Good,” it said. Its voice was like listening to swine rooting through rotting scraps. Each time the tail of the thing collided with the walls or the ceiling, the frame of the house shook.
Then another, smaller, slithered from the darkness and flapped its wings, hissing. “We are not lost. We know what we were sent here to do.”
John lowered the muzzle, jabbed forward with it as if it were a sword, and unloaded the chamber into the beast’s midsection.
Now this produced a result.
It fell away from him but only for an instant. It made a grab for the gun as it fell backward, but John managed to hang on to it.
He backed away again, racking the slide once more. He wasn’t sure how many shells remained in the mag; he had lost count. He was down to his last one—maybe two—shells. The beast was gathering itself together for a lunge; it was renewing the attack. John decided he’d better burn another one, even if it was his last. I’ll go down fighting you, whatever in hell you are. And when I’m out of ammo, I’m going to bash your ugly fangs in with the butt stock.
The fountain of fire that issued forth from the Mossberg, illuminating the scene, now only served to compound John’s fears. He really was not hallucinating. He was actually battling with what looked like a freaking carnivorous dinosaur, and there were two of them, real-life black dragons in his own house, for crying out loud.
But he had injured the bigger one, and it went down hard this time. He racked the slide once more and heard his last shell slide into the chamber. He stepped toward the small one and shot it in the face. With a shriek, it flopped down like a fish and John barely managed to get out of the way of its tail. And than it was gone, crashing down the stairs, screeching like a wounded cat.
The big one languished on the floor, a dark shape that writhed in agony, hissing and spitting at him in rage.
John couldn’t see much of anything, but he aimed for dead center mass because of how effective the shots he had taken there had been. “What are you? What do you want from me?”
The beast’s laughter broke him from his reverie. Its movements began to slow. “You do not know, Derackson? How can you not know?” It growled out a curse and dug its claws into the floor.
“You die now!” John yelled. He thrust the muzzle forward, angry that this thing could find anything to laugh about at this moment. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“It is in your blood.” It gagged in the dark, probably choking on its own bodily fluids. “You were thinking right. It’s in your blood.”
John was horrified. Did this thing read my mind? He clamped his jaw shut in rage and, furious, yanked on the trigger one last time.
In the aftermath of the explosion, all was finally still. He had overcome the monster. His ears were ringing and he was drenched in his own sweat. As his system dumped excess adrenaline into his bloodstream, he began to shake violently.
There in the
The demon Brother seized the opportunity and took the angel’s head off.
Uriel stepped forward to the headless corpse. Leaving the dagger behind, she removed Zedkiel’s sword from his hand and took it as her own. Now she would finish Yamanu.
CHAPTER IX
Boise, Idaho, Present Day
THE SHOTGUN BLAST SHOULD have killed the thing. 12-gauge, point-blank to the face. But it seemed like all it did was make it angry. John let off a little emotional steam with a blasphemous curse. He pumped the slide, jacking another shell into the chamber.
The beast hissed, “I know your name. But do you?” It roared, slamming a fist the size of a football through the wall. “Do you, Derackson?”
John squeezed off another shot in the darkness at where he supposed its face to be and then backed away. It had little effect, so he pumped the slide again and took aim. “Wrong house, idiot. Who is Derackson? What are you?”
Laughter. “You are afraid. Good,” it said. Its voice was like listening to swine rooting through rotting scraps. Each time the tail of the thing collided with the walls or the ceiling, the frame of the house shook.
Then another, smaller, slithered from the darkness and flapped its wings, hissing. “We are not lost. We know what we were sent here to do.”
John lowered the muzzle, jabbed forward with it as if it were a sword, and unloaded the chamber into the beast’s midsection.
Now this produced a result.
It fell away from him but only for an instant. It made a grab for the gun as it fell backward, but John managed to hang on to it.
He backed away again, racking the slide once more. He wasn’t sure how many shells remained in the mag; he had lost count. He was down to his last one—maybe two—shells. The beast was gathering itself together for a lunge; it was renewing the attack. John decided he’d better burn another one, even if it was his last. I’ll go down fighting you, whatever in hell you are. And when I’m out of ammo, I’m going to bash your ugly fangs in with the butt stock.
The fountain of fire that issued forth from the Mossberg, illuminating the scene, now only served to compound John’s fears. He really was not hallucinating. He was actually battling with what looked like a freaking carnivorous dinosaur, and there were two of them, real-life black dragons in his own house, for crying out loud.
But he had injured the bigger one, and it went down hard this time. He racked the slide once more and heard his last shell slide into the chamber. He stepped toward the small one and shot it in the face. With a shriek, it flopped down like a fish and John barely managed to get out of the way of its tail. And than it was gone, crashing down the stairs, screeching like a wounded cat.
The big one languished on the floor, a dark shape that writhed in agony, hissing and spitting at him in rage.
John couldn’t see much of anything, but he aimed for dead center mass because of how effective the shots he had taken there had been. “What are you? What do you want from me?”
The beast’s laughter broke him from his reverie. Its movements began to slow. “You do not know, Derackson? How can you not know?” It growled out a curse and dug its claws into the floor.
“You die now!” John yelled. He thrust the muzzle forward, angry that this thing could find anything to laugh about at this moment. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“It is in your blood.” It gagged in the dark, probably choking on its own bodily fluids. “You were thinking right. It’s in your blood.”
John was horrified. Did this thing read my mind? He clamped his jaw shut in rage and, furious, yanked on the trigger one last time.
In the aftermath of the explosion, all was finally still. He had overcome the monster. His ears were ringing and he was drenched in his own sweat. As his system dumped excess adrenaline into his bloodstream, he began to shake violently.
There in the
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