Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

256 :: JOHN R. MABRY
He stewed in what was, after all, a petty disappointment.
He reminded himself that there would be other opportunities,
other children, other days of reckoning. Soon, he promised
himself, soon.
Just then the vibration of his cell phone interrupted his
musings. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.
“Dane,” he said curtly. The speaker was talking too fast—
he could barely understand him. “Slow down, I can’t...oh,
it’s you, Larch. I’m glad you called—very nicely done with
the dogs, sir. You are to be congratulated. So now we know
it can be done for a living creature of that size—”
Larch was screaming at him now. Dane squeezed his eyes
closed and struggled to maintain his composure. “I don’t
give a rat’s ass if your man is in a coma. You knew that
would happen...what? No, you idiots are the demon experts,
you find a way to reverse it or prevent it. That’s not my job.
My job is money. And power. And I have both, and you will
not forget it. You work for me—” He held the phone away
from his ear until Larch had finished his rant. “Larch, you
will speak to me calmly and respectfully or a hit squad of
demons will teach you how to show such respect. Am I
clear?”
The phone was silent as Larch apparently considered his
words. “Beat up? What do you mean you were beat up?”
Dane asked, amused by the notion. “What, all of you?
Baseball bats and chains? How did they...you didn’t have to
open the door for them, you numbskull.” With a lighter spirit,
Dane listened to the rest of the story of the Lodge’s
assault, more delighted at the surprising turn than concerned.
“Look, only one of you is in the hospital, so consider
yourself lucky. No, Larch, there you are wrong. One of you
will carry the final package. This is what we have all been
working toward. Yes, well, you have your agenda and I have