Blood of Night – The Thorne Hill Series Read Online Emily Goodwin

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Vampires Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
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The boy comes out, pausing for just half a second to look out at the warehouse and then rushes back into the office. I close my eyes and project myself right outside the office door. A TV is on, but the volume is turned down low.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” someone says.

“This place creeps me out.”

“You better not let Carl hear you say that. He’ll never send you out on an assignment.”

“It’s different,” the other counters. “I can fight a monster. The shit in here is here because it couldn’t be fought.” He has a point, actually, though if stored properly, everything in here should be neutralized. “I need some fresh air anyway,” he goes on. “The constant smell of burned sage is giving me a headache.”

In astral form, I don’t notice any smells. Burning sage makes sense and is a smart thing to do when you’re trying to suppress dark energy.

“Fine. It’s just down the block and then we have to come right back. ETA is about five minutes.”

“Thank god. I’m fucking starving.”

“Same. At least it’s nice out. I hate having to walk down the block for food when the weather is shit.”

I take a few steps back, guessing that the Order members aren’t allowed to have anything delivered right to the warehouse but instead have to give a different address to have takeout delivered.

“Five minutes,” I echo and go back to slowly walking up and down the aisle. According to the emails, this oracle was acquired by the Order several months ago. I cut through several shelves but go too far. I stop, eyes landing on a gold ring with a large green stone across the aisle, displayed in an open red ring box. It’s too dim and I’m too far to read the little notecard, but I can tell I’m past the cursed objects.

Mentally counting the minutes tick by in my head, I hurry down another aisle, slowly when the item tags start with “C” again. I almost miss it since it’s so unassuming. It’s just a dark, oval-shaped rock inside a glass box. It’s not flashy or inlaid with gold. Instead, it’s a gray rock in the shape of a scarab and the etched details are almost worn off.

“Bingo,” I say, a smile coming to my face. The office door opens again, and I sneak up as close as I can get without being seen. If I am seen, my plan is to act like a ghost. One of these two are already freaked out.

“Do we need to lock down?” the boy who I saw run to the bathroom asks. He’s dressed in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He can’t be a day over fourteen. Poor kid.

“Nah,” the other boy tells him. He’s dressed similarly but appears to be a few years older. “We’ll be gone less than five minutes. Just arm the doors.”

“Okay.”

I risk blowing my cover as I move forward, getting close enough to see him punch in the numbers. As soon as he steps out of the door, I project back into my body.

“Seven-five-two-four-nine,” I say and sit up, holding onto Binx.

“What?” Easton’s eyes widen, leaning away from me.

“Seven-five-two-four-nine,” I repeat. “Remember that.”

“Did projecting scramble your brain or something?”

“No.” I get up, my butt feeling a little numb from laying on the uncomfortable bed liner. “It’s the code to get in. The two guys keeping watch left to grab a takeout order. We have like three minutes to get in and get out.”

“What are you waiting for?” Easton jumps down and holds out his hand for me to take. I jump down next to him, not needing any help. He drops the sage stick, steps on it to put out the flames and then gives me a curt nod.

Binx shadows up ahead as we silently run across the street, slowing only so we don’t attract attention. My heart is in my throat as we round the corner and come up to the warehouse.

“Can he block out that camera?” Easton whispers, using his eyes to point to a camera that I hadn’t noticed. It’s pointed right at the sidewalk leading to the front door.

“On it,” I say when Binx shadows over. Familiars aren’t corporeal in their spirit form, and shadowing in front of a camera like that will make the footage too dark and fuzzy to see anything clearly.

Easton and I sprint down the sidewalk to the door. It’s locked of course, and I use magic to undo the locks.

“I could have gotten that, you know,” Easton huff. “Picking locks is easy.”

“So is using magic. We don’t have time.”

“Right,” he grumbles and steps in, punching in the code. The alarm goes silent and we close the door behind us. “Holy shit.” Easton’s eyes widen as he looks around. “There has to be decades worth of stuff in here.”



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