Fall of the Nephilim by Marcus James

Author:Marcus James [James, Marcus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Candiano Books
Published: 2017-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

XIII

Kathryn made her way up Devlin Drive, trying to steady her nerves and ignore the twisting knots in her stomach. The neighborhood was quiet and the mid-century homes were pristine in the bright sun. She had tried to listen to music on the way, but instead of distracting her from her apprehension, it only seemed to make her thoughts all the more erratic.

She wasn’t certain of what it was she was hoping to find when she got there. Did she want Angelina to be there, lost in some erotic haze or was she hoping Angelina was nowhere to be found? Did she want them to be home or was she hoping to find the place to be empty?

And if one of them was home, what would happen? The fear was eating away at her, and yet the desire-that lust for Kuri and the rest of the band-tinged that fear with a need she could not shake.

Of all of them, Kuri had been inside of her. he had been there down in the basement of Scream, and Kathryn was certain now, that he had somehow known that she was there-that he had been waiting for her, and everything about him-from the feel of his body to that fragrant and exotic smell that lingered on his skin-had clouded her judgment and entrapped her in her hunger for him.

When she made the turn onto North Devlin Place, everything inside of her was screaming at her to turn around. To just pull into the nearest driveway and make her way back to the Sunset Marquis and wait for Sheffield to wake up.

She had a job to do. The weight of responsibility was heavy, and this was all about her. It had been confirmed, and whatever had or hadn’t happened to Angelina Ramos, it was on her shoulders.

Am I heading to my death? She wondered as she pulled up along the curb in front of the mid-century ranch with its windows covered by thick drapes. The van was nowhere in sight, and she felt only a momentary wave of calm as she opened the door and took her first steps towards the house.

It was eerily quiet. Not a bird in a tree or a dog barking. Just an unsettling silence and a warm and oppressive breeze.

Kathryn summoned all of the courage she could muster and crossed herself. It was a reflexive and old Catholic habit, but it was the only prayer of protection she could bring herself to make.

It was like walking to the gallows, and she thought of all of those men and women who found their heads in a noose, or their hands tied around a pillar of wood at the top of the pyre. Her heart raced as she walked gingerly towards the front door, her heels tapping on the concrete and providing the only sound around her.

With each step her heart quickened and her palms began to sweat. As soon as she reached the large white double entry doors with their

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