The angel of Polh

Lydie Blaizot

Description

Emily, an angel of Polh, arrives in Chicago to find the murderer of a person for whom she was responsible. But the culprit is a vampire and the angel, young and inexperienced, can't lay hands on him.

Then, she gets into her head to seek help from Ladainian Abernaker, the most unlikely ally. The cantankerous old man would certainly never listen to her request without the unfortunate intervention of the leader of the vampires of Chicago.

Sujets

• Littérature
• Amérique
• Vampire
• Amérique du Nord
• Chicago
• Fiction
• Nouvelles
• États-Unis

Informations

• Publié par: Editions du Petit Caveau
• Date de parution: 17 janvier 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 3
• EAN13: 9782373420210
• Langue: English

Extrait

Ladainian Abernaker-Theangelof Polh Lydie Blaizot

É é ditions du Petit Caveau - Collection Sang%Num rique

Foreword

Greetings to all! I'm Van Crypting, mascot of Editions du Petit Caveau. The version of this epub was tested on most devices and popular software on the French market. However, our vampiric team found that the Firefox's Epub reader doesn't display custom fonts. With Kindle, you must activate fonts in the fonts panel. Although we are against this practice, some dealers add DRM to our files. We regret this, but you can find our ebooks without DRM elsewhere. If you encounter a problem, and you can not solve it, contact us by email (with the model of your device). We'll take care of finding the solution for you.

Many thanks to Brian Stableford for his rereading and corrections.

Oh I got a sweet black angel Oh and I love the way she spreads her wings I got a sweet black angel And I love the way she spreads her wings

Buddy Guy Sweet black angel

The angel ofPolh

Chicago, june 12, 2008

Leaning above his mixing deck, MattI.D blithely blended two pieces of rap with a sense of rhythm more than doubtful. Below, in the overheated atmosphere of the dance floor, a hundred young people swayed their hips to his music, impervious to the poor quality of his technique. The DJ could have played anything, and the public would have behaved in the same way, their attention solely be focused on the need for distraction. MattI.D couldn't care less. His pleasure consisted of misusing other people's songs, muddling with an obstinacy approaching sadism, until the result gives him the creeps. That's how he got his kicks. The rest didn't matter. His hands came and went on the vinyl at an infernal speed. Sometimes, a bead of sweat fell on one disk, causing an additional slippage that produced a sound that was rather nice. MattI.D wriggled madly, tapping his foot on the floor when the rhythm quickened. He bawled intermittently, euphoric, totally divorced from the realities of this world, shielded by his ecstasy bubble. Nothing could affect him. Except for a disaster. Appearing from nowhere, a raven fluttered around him in a chorus of frenzied flapping of wings before landing amid the tangle of electrical cables. Dutifully, it pulled up them away one by one. Angrily, MattI.D shouted insults, kicking his legs, hoping to scare it. In return, he had the unpleasant feeling that the bird, amused, was making fun of him. Helpless, he watched it continue its work, with application. In desperation, the DJ left his deck to rush the dangerous intruder. He never reached it. Half way there, a sharp pain radiated down his neck, quickly followed by an intense weariness. His legs gave way; he let himself fall backwards, and when his back hit the ground he caught a glimpse a wrinkled face, a big nose, severe lips and deep black eyes ... Before fainting, he thought he heard snippets of a song by Willie Dixon. Ladainian Abernaker sniggered. He hated DJs, guys only good for messing up other people's music. He greedily licked his victim’s wound, watched it disappears, and, unhurriedly, restored order to his old black suit. With his Borsalino jammed down hard on his ancient skull, he contemplated his raven, Ezequiel, finishing his chipping away. The speaker crackled, hesitated, and then produced a last twisted sound before ceasing all activity. In the room, angry cries burst forth in response to the unacceptable failure, demanding music, repayment or beer. The vampire waited for a moment, savoring the result of his intervention, before disappearing, his companion at his heels.

Emily wandered in the city for a good week. At first optimistic about her ability to achieve her mission, she nevertheless admitted her powerlessness and even incompetence, faced with the lack of result. In spite of her efforts, her objective remained out of reach, and time was against her. The stress of not achieving her goal was wearing her down. If she failed, the consequences would be terrible, no doubt about it. So, after much thought, she made a decision appropriate to the extent of her distress: to obtain the services of a powerful ally. And, of course, her choice fell on a powerful and formidable man she could

locate without too much difficulty. That’s how the girl ended up in the friendly neighborhood of Old Town. Taking refuge under a fire escape, Emily was waiting patiently, her gaze sweeping the area. She was in the right place. Even from a distance, even in the absence of the main man, she could distinguish his aura without difficulty - a dark red glow of the finest effect, which impregnated his home indelibly. The girl had already met several vampires, but this was the first time she had contemplated such a spectacle. Then man who lived here had powers beyond comprehension. The night was taking on the first light of dawn when a figure walked past the street corner. It was an elderly man with a shuffling gait, wearing a suit, Borsalino included, worthy of an old film of the sixties. However, the girl wasn't taken in by such a frail appearance and she smiled at the dark red halo around the vampire. Oh yes, he could help her in her task! Anxiously, she watched him surreptitiously, without leaving her hiding place, and saw him enter a white stone building with a dark wood window finely wrought. A blue neon sign announcedWillie's with beautiful lettering. Some sort of bar, for sure. Emily waited for a moment and then crossed the street to take a...