Phoenix Contract: Part One (Fallen Angel Watchers Book 1) Read Free

Troy agreed. “Now shut up.”
    The minutes ticked by. Steve continued his agitated pacing, and Jesus finished his beer and smoke, then tossed both into the gutter beside the car. Katsue grew restless and opened her mouth to demand to know what they were waiting for when Steve spoke again.
    “Two past,” he announced. “Now they’re late.”
    “Figures.” Jesus stuck a finger in his ear, wriggling it in circles in order to get to the wax. He shifted his rear end uncomfortably on the hot metal hood. “Can you call your friends and find out what’s the holdup?
    “They’re not my friends,” Steve corrected automatically. He stopped pacing. “They’re Thrash’s. You’ve met one of them. Remember that big blonde surfer dude with Silk and Cindy? We met them three weeks ago?”
    Jesus flicked the tip of his index finger toward the ground. “At Stringers?”
    Steve’s face worked in disgust. “No, Postmortem.”
    Jesus sneered. “The guy with all of the piercings?”
    “Nah, the other one. Blond, blue eyes with the muscles and the scar on his cheek.” Steve gestured toward the left side of his face. “His name was Troy something or other...”
    “I remember him,” Jesus said. He hesitated, and the strain of hard thought showed on his face. “Why did you call him anyway if you don’t know him?”
    Steve’s lips parted, and his tongue pushed past. Rivulets of sweat trickled down the sides of his face. “Cause, these guys, Thrash and his friends, they’re... You know—”
    “Weird?”
    “They know stuff,” Steve finished weakly.
    Silence reigned for a minute.
    “It’s too damn hot!” Jesus complained.
    “As soon as they show, we can be rid of that thing .” Steve made a wild gesture toward the Charger’s trunk. His jerky agitation revealed raw fear.
    “If I was you, I’d keep it,” Jesus said, suddenly sly.
    “Well, you’re not me. Jesus, you’re an idiot!” Steve exploded. “What part of me not having been home for the last three days did you not understand? I haven’t slept or showered, and my gut tells me that this thing is the reason that Thrash is missing.”
    “Let’s go,” Troy grated, his suspicion apparently satisfied. He stepped out of the store’s recessed alcove and onto the sidewalk.
    Katsue followed on his heels.
    “Hey, guys,” Troy greeted, managing to convey the impression that they’d only just arrived. He expressed a calm and relaxed outward demeanor, but Katsue felt his tension as acutely as if it were her own. Both teens whirled aggressively, surprise etched onto their faces.
    Steve forced a warm welcome. “Hey, Troy, buddy, don’t do that.” He gestured toward his friend. “You remember Jesus?”
    Introductions made the rounds, and then Troy cut right to the chase, bypassing social pleasantries. “What’s up?” he asked. “What’s so important that you couldn’t tell me on the phone?”
    Eyes haunted, Steve swallowed, and his jaw worked. “You heard Thrash took off?”
    “Yeah, we heard,” Troy said tersely.
    “I called you ‘cause Thrash left something with me, and I don’t know what else to do with it. I sure as hell don’t want it.” Steve fished his keys from his pocket and moved toward the trunk of his car.
    Curious, Troy and Katsue followed while Jesus remained seated. Steve opened the trunk and removed a black leather duffel bag. His hands shook as he extracted a rectangular box, the kind used to store bladed weapons, from the duffle. Based on the dimensions, Katsue assumed it to be a katana case.
    The air crackled with the power of the thing , stinging her skin and burning her nerves. The mystical presence, a palpable force, provoked a visceral reaction. Her emotions skewed: dark and consuming, terror, desire, greed. The claw hooked her gut and wrenched, twisting an excruciating knot.
    “What is it?” Katsue asked in breathless wonder. Eyes riveted on the case, she was overcome with a nearly uncontrollable impulse to smack away