Nomad Mortis: Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 04
Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8
by Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
The Forsaken looked at the dirt covering his brethren’s clothes. The other had traveled hard, running through the night, finding cover for the daytime, then doing it all over again.
He brought news of life and death.
“The hellspawn known as Terry Henry Walton descended on Los Angeles using Kurtherian technology. Only I escaped because I was in the city, enjoying a late-night snack. I was returning when I saw it all go down. They hunted our people like animals! How could they? Are we not superior?” the Forsaken asked.
“We have heard of this one. He isn’t completely human. He’s surrounded by Weres and the true hellspawn, the Queen’s Bitch. Alone, we can’t fight them and this is why they are successful,” the Forsaken replied, stroking his chin in thought. He sat on a heavily padded recliner, leaning back, looking relaxed.
The newly arrived was agitated. He’d just lost his friends and traveled hundreds of miles to deliver the information to one who only seemed intent on his own power.
He should not have been surprised.
“Mr. Smith! I came to you because you are the most powerful of our kind that I know of. What can you do about Walton?” the Forsaken pleaded.
“I am doing what needs to be done, collecting information and building a plan. When the plan is complete and the time is right, we’ll take care of this pseudo-human and his pets. You really should put your fear in a dark closet somewhere and lock it away. It is not a good look on you,” Mr. Smith replied.
“But what do we do?” the Forsaken cried, his voice an octave higher than it should have been. He’d left the remnants of his world behind, only to find that his new situation was no better.
Something would have to change before he could get back to an acceptable status quo. He had been someone back in LA, but here, he was back to being nobody.
He sighed heavily as he tried to tolerate his new role, hoping to be given the opportunity to work his way up.
“What can I do to help?” the Forsaken asked of Mr. Smith, putting proper deference in his tone.
Mr. Smith smiled at the groveling, fawning refugee. The Forsaken would find something for his newest addition to do.
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