Game of Cages: A Twenty Palaces Novel by Harry Connolly

Author:Harry Connolly
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Magicians, Magic, Fantasy fiction, Secret societies, Contemporary, General, Urban Life, Fantasy, Fiction, Paranormal
ISBN: 9780345508904
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2010-08-31T00:21:59+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I scanned the parking lot. Pratt was already gone, dammit. "Do you know where the stable is?" I asked.

"I know how to find it." She took out a cellphone, dialed 411, and got the address from the operator. "There's only one in the area," she said. "Shit. I wish they hadn't stolen my cell."

"What's that in your hand?"

"The bartender's. He loaned it to me, without realizing he was loaning it to me. But I can't use it to file a supplemental report. The number would turn up on his phone bill."

I was feeling keyed up. "I'm sorry," I said. "The answer we needed was sitting right next to me, and I didn't realize it."

"Don't worry about it. That's my job, not yours. Not that I found out a damn thing. All those boys wanted to talk about was the festival tomorrow. They're worried that it may be canceled after 'what happened today.' I wasn't sure how much they really knew, but they were being careful."

I wondered what the festival would be like. If we destroyed the predator tonight--and did it quickly and cleanly--the town could have Christmas in peace: no more killings, no more people going crazy, no more burning buildings. Maybe there would be something nice I could pick up for Aunt Theresa and Uncle Karl. And maybe I could find a gift for Catherine, if--

"God, I hope we can finish this tonight," she said. "I want to spend Christmas with my family. Was that man in the tan coat who I think?"

"That's Pratt. He didn't want to talk to you at all."

She seemed to understand right away. "They're like that. A lot of them. They live a couple of hundred years, and everything they knew about the world gets turned on its head. They see a black woman alone at a bar, talking to men she doesn't know, and they immediately think prostitute. They're old-fashioned, squared. Some of them even talk about the good old days before the Terror."

I didn't know what "the Terror" was, but I got the point. "Do you know anything about him?"

"One of the other investigators said Pratt likes killing people, which doesn't exactly set him apart from the crowd. He should have talked to me. Now I can't even get a new report to him." She sighed. "So, we're going to check out the stables, right?"

"Oh, yeah."

She started the car and we rode through the dark town. I wondered how late the stables would be open, and if we'd have to break in.

We headed toward the fairgrounds but reached the turnoff well before the festival banner appeared. There was a split-rail fence, a gate, and a sign that said CONNER STABLES. The gate was bolted and padlocked. I cut the padlock, opened the gate, let Catherine drive through, and closed it again.

She drove down the long path with the headlights off. Our plan was simple: Sneak in as close as we could without being spotted, just like the Wilbur estate. Locate the sapphire dog.

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