Matt Archer: Bloodlines (Matt Archer #4) Read Online Free Page B

Four
     
     
    The sun had turned the inside of my eyelids pink when
Captain Johnson shook me awake. “Will’s up and going on and on about drinking
our blood for breakfast. What’s the plan?”
    “Good morning to you, too, sir.” I rubbed the crust of sleep
out of my eyes and sat up. I’d crashed out on a rocky piece of ground near one
of the Humvees. Despite the poor choice of bed, I’d slept like the dead.
“Plan’s simple. We pull Will into the sunlight, I cut him, he bleeds and the
blade-spirits yank the demon out of him.”
    “Like they did with that lady in Canada?” he asked. I nodded
and he frowned. “But we tried that with him yesterday morning and it didn’t
work.”
    “The spirits were separated from us yesterday.” I was going
to have to ask Tink about that at some point, to see if she knew how it
happened. “I think it’ll work this time.”
    “You think ,” Johnson said. He sighed. “Well, I’m
going to hope it works.”
    He strode off, looking for Uncle Mike, while I staggered to
the latrine. My stomach gurgled pitifully when I came back to camp, but food
would have to wait. I was on a mission. Especially once I heard not-Will’s
shouts.
    “You will drown in a sea of tears and blood,” he screamed.
His voice was raspy, like he’d screamed his throat raw. “Then I will find your
families and--”
    “Hey, that’s enough,” I said, crossing over to him. I drew
my knife and let the early morning sun glint on the dull copper blade. “Time
for a little operation.”
    His eyes went wide and he thrashed around. “No!”
    He hadn’t been scared yesterday—maybe having the spirits
back online made the threat more potent. I reached for his arm and he jerked
away from me.
    “I could use a hand,” I called.
    Johnson and Lieutenant Lanningham hurried over. Lanningham
was the biggest guy on our team, bigger even that Johnson, and built of solid
muscle. They were joined by Lieutenant Nguyen, second in command for Will’s
wielder support team. He wasn’t the biggest guy on the team, but crazy strong
for his size. If these three couldn’t hold not-Will down for this, we were
screwed.
    Johnson and Nguyen each took one of his arms and forced him
onto his back. Lanningham got the crap job of holding his legs still. Not-Will
screeched and spit and kicked like we were killing him slowly.
    “Scoot him over, so he’s in the sun,” I said. We’d been
keeping him in the shade, since the sunlight seemed to burn his skin much
faster than normal.
    Once not-Will was in the sunlight, he went quiet, his eyes
open wide.
    He looked terrified.
    “Okay, Tink, now what? I give him a little cut somewhere and
you two draw out the demon?”
    She and Coach Shaw had a whispered conversation in the back
of my head, speaking in their own language. That wasn’t a good sign.
    Finally, she said, Remove the boy’s shirt and make sure
you have his knife ready.
    Worried now, I sheathed my own blade and drew the
bronze-handled one. “Okay.”
    It was a struggle to get his t-shirt off, and I tried not to
feel like a perv when I had to cut it free.
    Once we had him ready, Johnson asked, “So what, exactly, are
we doing?”
    I just shook my head, waiting for more instructions.
    Tell the others to hold on to him, Tink whispered. With
all their strength.
    That didn’t sound good. “Uh, Tink says to hold on tight.”
    Johnson raised an eyebrow, but clamped his hands around Will’s
left arm. Nguyen did the same with the right, and Lanningham hugged his legs in
a boa-constrictor grip.
    Camp had gotten really quiet. I knew everyone was standing
behind us, watching. Not like this wasn’t already uncomfortable enough—we had
to have fifteen more witnesses. Uncle Mike knelt next to me, looking concerned.
Yeah, we needed to get on with this.
     “Tink, what next?” I asked.
    Be strong, she said.
    Before I could ask why that was a requirement, Coach Shaw
added, Stab him in the right shoulder, just above the collarbone.