Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

“Maybe now isn’t really the time to explain,” Charybdis
offered an olive branch.
“You think?” Terry spat. “Look, let’s concentrate on saving
your brothers’ asses, and then you can make tea for us
again and explain how we’ve got the demons all wrong.”
They rode in silence for a while as Terry made his way
west through the City.
“We’re going to have to be careful getting in,” Charybdis
said, finally breaking the silence after ten blocks or so. “Last
I heard, he’s got Howlers in place, ever since you guys broke
into his house last.”
“Are you shitting me?” Terry asked, whipping out his cell
phone. “Why didn’t you say so?” He speed dialed Richard,
whispering a prayer that he wasn’t too late.
:: 71 ::
THE KINGDOM :: 331
Richard parallel parked about a block from the Dane
mansion. In the dense, soupy San Francisco night its silhouette
loomed, enveloping the horizon, threatening to swallow
all.
I should wait for the others, he thought to himself, but the
urgency of the situation compelled him. As he got out of his
car, a bird shrieked, foreshadowing the grieving wails that
would engulf the planet if they did not succeed. Richard felt
bowed under the weight of it. His shoulders drooped and his
breathing came in heavy gasps, as if, in his anxiety, he gulped
at hope and, finding none, gulped all the more desperately.
Why had this fallen to him? To them? Who the fuck were
they?
There was no question of their worthiness. None of them
were worthy of forbearance, let alone this kind of trust.