Rogue Angel - 23 - Sacred Ground by Alex Archer

Author:Alex Archer
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780373621422
Publisher: Gold Eagle
Published: 2010-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

21

Annja watched as Derek gathered a bundle of thick branches, long dehydrated by the pervasive winter winds, into a stout pile over a small bundle of tinder and kindling. He stooped and set a lick of flame to the smallest pieces and then stood back as the fire ate at the dried wood. After a minute, a blaze illuminated the area, spreading only a moderate degree of warmth.

Derek gestured to Annja and Wishman. “You’re welcome to move closer to the fire, but Annja, don’t do anything to make Hansen put a bullet in you. Any move and he won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Annja said. She moved closer to the fire listening as the twigs and branches crackled. Wishman stayed back, however, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that the temperature hovered around minus thirty-five degrees.

Derek regarded him. “You’re not cold, old man?”

Wishman’s eyes flashed. “I’ll warm myself with the thought that your bones will soon be cooked off of your pathetic body.”

Derek shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Hansen checked his watch, but kept the gun trained on Annja. “About a half hour left.”

Derek nodded. “You brought it?”

“Of course.” Hansen shrugged. “Not much point in doing this otherwise, is there?”

“Brought what?” Annja asked. She saw Derek glance at Hansen and she sighed. “Come on, guys. Don’t you want to prove what big boys you are and let me witness your obvious superior intellect? What’s the big secret? Afraid I’ll rain on your parade?”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t much care what you think, Annja. If you’d rather have me kill you here and now, just tell me and I’ll spare you any further discomfort.”

Annja shrugged. “Like you’d kill me. You’d just have Hansen back there do it.”

“I’ll kill you myself,” Derek said.

“Right,” Annja said. “You don’t have the nerve.”

Derek stepped closer to her but kept the fire between them. In the firelight, his face looked somehow different as shadows leaped and twisted all over his molten visage.

“I assure you that I most certainly do have the nerve, as you put it. And I will gladly rip your heart out through your chest if you’d prefer it that way.” He sighed. “Or perhaps you think your god will come to your aid. Perhaps you believe that the sword grants you some type of invulnerability?”

Annja frowned. “Well, it didn’t work out that well for the original owner, now, did it?”

“Perhaps she found heaven through the fires of her death,” Derek said.

Hansen chuckled behind her. Annja felt herself growing angry at their obvious derision.

Wishman moved up closer to the fire suddenly. Derek smiled. “A little too cold for you back in the shadows, Wishman? Well, fine, warm yourself by our fire. Enjoy these last vestiges of humanity.”

Wishman stared at him, but Annja noticed that he didn’t look especially cold. He glanced at Annja. “What he says about this blade you carry. Is it true?”

Annja nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure why I was chosen to carry it, but I seem to have little to no choice in the matter.

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