Call the Dark by J Todd Scott EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: J Todd Scott
- Language: English
- Genre: Vampire Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Ekker knows he makes people nervous.
It’s the eyes.
Not that there’s anything strange or unusual about them. There isn’t.
They are plainly, purposefully normal. It’s the stare, though. Most people
aren’t used to being really looked at, really stared at, and it was
Shakespeare who said the eyes are the windows to the soul.
Ekker doesn’t care much for Shakespeare. And although he didn’t
believe in the existence of souls, either, until recently, the Bible does have
something to say on the matter—
The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is good, your
whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will
be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in you is darkness, how great
is that darkness . . .
So, maybe when Ekker looks at someone, really gives them a chance
to gaze into his windows, all they see is . . . darkness. His darkness. Black,
bottomless, impenetrable. Or maybe when he stares at them in that cool,
unflinching way of his—stares until they succumb to the urge to blink and
turn away—it’s because they’re afraid he’ll truly see theirs.
“Theroux once said—”
Ekker cuts Brooking off with his eyes, and Jon Alexander Brooking’s
clearly not accustomed to anyone cutting him off. His overly tanned face
goes white, like he’s been slapped. “Do you want to talk about me,
Mr. Brooking?” Ekker asks, his accent plainly, purposefully impossible to
place as well. “Repeat for me all these things and stories Theroux once told
you. Or do you want to talk to me?”
Brooking only flashes Ekker a shark smile, all perfect, expensive
teeth. Still trying to hide his anger, his frustration, still searching how to
regain the upper hand.
They’re sitting in Brooking’s office, carved out of glass, as high up as
anyone is willing to build in this city. Ekker knows Brooking is used to
looking down on people no matter who they are; knows, too, that Brooking
is surprised Ekker even agreed to meet him here. A man like Brooking
dictates time and place for one reason only—to remind men like Ekker of
life’s center of gravity. But Ekker’s weightless; there’s nothing Brooking
can do to him, nothing Brooking can bring to bear to hold him down;
Brooking has no hold over him at all. Ekker can get up and walk out at any
time, and if Theroux really told Brooking anything about him, he absolutely
would’ve warned Brooking about that.
Ekker takes a long sip of Moroccan water from a crystal tumbler.
More glass. Everything and the whole office itself cut from it, a hundred
sharp angles and hues, all designed to make a statement. It’s like a movie
set, a child’s idea of wealth and power. Ekker doesn’t need to look into
Brooking’s eyes to look through him. He’s as transparent as his ostentatious
office.
Brooking turns a Breitling on his wrist with a hand that is big, solid,
and delicately manicured. He plays tennis, plenty of tennis. Golf, too, at
least twice a week. In that one small movement, Ekker sees all that and so
much more.
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