All Souls: A Gatehouse Thriller by Karin Kaufman

Author:Karin Kaufman [Kaufman, Karin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

As I made my way up the concrete walk to Hollow’s front door, I reminded myself that most of the partygoers were average people who lived outside the Sack world and that Hollow had no desire to blow his cover in their presence. That, along with my anonymity, would form my safety net.

Nathan had to admit that my plan could work. Although simple, it posed little risk for me and greatly lessened the chance that he’d find himself sitting in some basement alongside the Fort Collins porter. My task was to find Hollow and lure him—with the promise of cheap, high-grade bubble hash—out the back door, where Nathan would take him down hard and fast, before the bong-head could react. If we were lucky, Hollow would already have smoked something or other, dulling his judgment and slowing his reactions.

Just as I hit the porch, the front door swung wide. An overly bloodied zombie exited, I entered, and no one blinked an eye. I made my way through what I supposed was the living room—orange walls, green couch, cartoonish art posters—the words “fire marshal” coming to mind. There were fifty, sixty people knocking elbows and drinks in the small space, and more in the kitchen at the back of the house.

I began to worry that someone would hit my umbrella and accidentally release the pellet. Unlikely as that was, I now felt sharply the outline of the umbrella when someone bumped into my left side and it pressed against my ribs and hip. My gun was one of the smallest made, and it nestled perfectly just forward of my right hip, but I was now hyper-aware of it too, worried that some drunk would grab me or want to hug me with alcohol-fueled delight—and he’d feel the metal at my waist.

I went straight for the drinks table, grabbed a beer, and thumbed it open. Taking what I hoped would look like a long party-girl gulp—dry swallows, my tongue over the tab opening—I scanned the living room for Hollow. When I saw him, and who he was talking to, I forgot the fake gulps. Beer dribbled out the tab, down my chin, and onto my jacket. I wiped it away. If I looked like an idiot, good. A drunken idiot? Better. My God, I would need that cover. My hands started to tremble. I shoved my left hand in my jacket pocket and with my right gripped the beer can.

Manifest Manifest. He’d dyed his light brown hair a reddish brown, and his left eye had a freshly scabbed cut above it and a hint of discoloration in the skin below, but I’d recognized him right away—the cheekbones like Buick tail fins, the well-muscled chest. He was the Sack who had murdered Steven Lake and a tourist in New Mexico. What was he doing in Fort Collins talking to Hollow? Was he working with him?

I looked away, shifting my attention toward the kitchen door while keeping the Sacks in my peripheral vision.

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