Read Online Matt Archer: Bloodlines (Matt Archer #4) by Kendra C. Highley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kendra C. Highley
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watched everything with detachment, like they were
merely targets to be hit. Dad passed him and bolted inside.
I glanced over at Blakeney, who stood guard at the edge of
the compound. In the light of the flare, his face was drawn and he stared into
the distance like he didn’t see us at all.
“What’s in there?” I asked. When Uncle Mike didn’t answer, I
gripped his bicep. “Mike, look at me.”
Calling him Mike snapped him out of his angry simmer. “I’m
going to hate myself forever for putting you through this, Chief.”
I took a step away from him. “You ordered me to stay out.
Whatever I do now is my own fault.”
He didn’t stop me as I crossed the compound. Dorland sat
slumped against the wall of one of the outer buildings. He looked up when I
passed and shook his head. I heard voices when I reached the door. Dad and
Lanningham must be inside.
Taking a shaking breath, I pushed open the door. A few battery-operated
lanterns had been set up along a long hallway running along the back wall of
the building. To the right, an open doorway led to a kitchen. The next was a
small storage room that smelled of strange spices and a faint musky odor,
almost like skunk.
But none of it overpowered the stench of rot coming from the
doorway at the end of the hall. I crept slowly that way. There was still time
to leave. To avoid seeing whatever was in that room. But my feet had a mind of
their own, dragging me toward that final door.
Three steps away, my dad’s voice became distinct. “…digital
camera and specimen containers. We’re not going to want to transport any of the
rest.”
His voice was cold, unemotional. The super spy had come to
work while others flinched.
“Will do,” Lanningham answered. Unlike the rest of Uncle
Mike’s team, he didn’t sound like he was freaking out. Instead he sounded
incredibly sad. And that was worse.
He came into the hall and jerked to a stop when he saw me.
“Officer Archer? Matt’s out here. Should I take him back to the major?”
The pause went on so long, I wondered if my dad was debating
himself or ignoring us. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid he needs to see this.
He’ll probably understand it better than I do.”
Lanningham squeezed my shoulder, then stepped aside.
Wondering what I’d find, I went through the doorway.
Chapter Eight
The room was square, without windows, but someone had turned
on another lantern hanging from the ceiling. It didn’t do much to cut through
the gloom. Dad stood in the far corner, rubbing his chin. He looked like a guy
trying to figure out how to pull a truck out a muddy ditch, not someone
analyzing a shop of horrors.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
In the center of the room, four bodies—two men and two women
wearing white pants and shirts—lay in a circle around a heavy wooden table.
Each one of them held a knife.
Each one of them had a slit throat.
Blood had spread in a large pool around them, but no flies
were buzzing around. I could see why; no living creature would want any part of
this. Just like Dr. Burton-Hughes, there was something totally unnatural about
these corpses.
If it were just the bodies, I might’ve been okay, but it was
the table that glued me in place as bile scalded my throat. Its edge had been
carved with symbols similar to those on Dr. Burton-Hughes’s body. At the center
of the line was an upside-down pentagram—it was an altar, to the Dark. Tink
banged around in my skull, crying out in her own language. Her reaction was
nothing compared to how I felt when I finally noticed the little boy lying dead
on the altar’s top.
He looked like he might be sleeping. His dark brown skin and
dark hair were clean, as was his outfit of white shorts and a plain T-shirt.
Based on his size, the kid was probably six or seven, and he held a sprig of
green leaves against his chest with folded hands. Other than that, there wasn’t
a mark on him.
But he wasn’t asleep. He was dead, and
merely targets to be hit. Dad passed him and bolted inside.
I glanced over at Blakeney, who stood guard at the edge of
the compound. In the light of the flare, his face was drawn and he stared into
the distance like he didn’t see us at all.
“What’s in there?” I asked. When Uncle Mike didn’t answer, I
gripped his bicep. “Mike, look at me.”
Calling him Mike snapped him out of his angry simmer. “I’m
going to hate myself forever for putting you through this, Chief.”
I took a step away from him. “You ordered me to stay out.
Whatever I do now is my own fault.”
He didn’t stop me as I crossed the compound. Dorland sat
slumped against the wall of one of the outer buildings. He looked up when I
passed and shook his head. I heard voices when I reached the door. Dad and
Lanningham must be inside.
Taking a shaking breath, I pushed open the door. A few battery-operated
lanterns had been set up along a long hallway running along the back wall of
the building. To the right, an open doorway led to a kitchen. The next was a
small storage room that smelled of strange spices and a faint musky odor,
almost like skunk.
But none of it overpowered the stench of rot coming from the
doorway at the end of the hall. I crept slowly that way. There was still time
to leave. To avoid seeing whatever was in that room. But my feet had a mind of
their own, dragging me toward that final door.
Three steps away, my dad’s voice became distinct. “…digital
camera and specimen containers. We’re not going to want to transport any of the
rest.”
His voice was cold, unemotional. The super spy had come to
work while others flinched.
“Will do,” Lanningham answered. Unlike the rest of Uncle
Mike’s team, he didn’t sound like he was freaking out. Instead he sounded
incredibly sad. And that was worse.
He came into the hall and jerked to a stop when he saw me.
“Officer Archer? Matt’s out here. Should I take him back to the major?”
The pause went on so long, I wondered if my dad was debating
himself or ignoring us. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid he needs to see this.
He’ll probably understand it better than I do.”
Lanningham squeezed my shoulder, then stepped aside.
Wondering what I’d find, I went through the doorway.
Chapter Eight
The room was square, without windows, but someone had turned
on another lantern hanging from the ceiling. It didn’t do much to cut through
the gloom. Dad stood in the far corner, rubbing his chin. He looked like a guy
trying to figure out how to pull a truck out a muddy ditch, not someone
analyzing a shop of horrors.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
In the center of the room, four bodies—two men and two women
wearing white pants and shirts—lay in a circle around a heavy wooden table.
Each one of them held a knife.
Each one of them had a slit throat.
Blood had spread in a large pool around them, but no flies
were buzzing around. I could see why; no living creature would want any part of
this. Just like Dr. Burton-Hughes, there was something totally unnatural about
these corpses.
If it were just the bodies, I might’ve been okay, but it was
the table that glued me in place as bile scalded my throat. Its edge had been
carved with symbols similar to those on Dr. Burton-Hughes’s body. At the center
of the line was an upside-down pentagram—it was an altar, to the Dark. Tink
banged around in my skull, crying out in her own language. Her reaction was
nothing compared to how I felt when I finally noticed the little boy lying dead
on the altar’s top.
He looked like he might be sleeping. His dark brown skin and
dark hair were clean, as was his outfit of white shorts and a plain T-shirt.
Based on his size, the kid was probably six or seven, and he held a sprig of
green leaves against his chest with folded hands. Other than that, there wasn’t
a mark on him.
But he wasn’t asleep. He was dead, and
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