Marjorie M. Liu - Hunter Kiss - 1 by The Iron Hunt

Author:The Iron Hunt [Hunt, The Iron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:32:47.716000+00:00

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“Thank you for coming back,” she said. “And for your understanding.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I replied. “Things are getting out of hand. I had an encounter this morning with a creature… a nonhuman creature… who knows you and Jack. Called you old friends.”

Saying that much to a stranger felt like an invitation to be called crazy, but Sarai remained silently thoughtful, with little reaction to judge. She turned her head, just so, and stared out the gallery window at the street. We were near Pike Place Market. I saw brick and flowerpots. The sky was blue, and the sun shot bars of white across the clean wood floor. I looked behind me and met the gaze of a unicorn in the sea, fighting for shore, against bullets and blood.

I waited for Sarai to say something, anything, but she never did. So I took a moment to get my bearings, rest my mind. Sarai was a hard woman to read, but there was enough steel in her eyes, in the way she moved, to erase any doubt that this was a woman who needed watching. Like a hawk.

“You’re talented,” I said. You are hiding something .

“I’m patient,” she replied. “I’ve had years to hone my craft.”

“Why unicorns?” Why do you know me?

“Do you find them childish?”

“Not the way you depict them.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s go find Jack.”

Compared to the bright sunlit interior of the gallery, Jack’s office felt like the cave of some mountain hermit, an intellectual scavenger hoarding words and paper and books as though preparing for the long starvation of an endless dreary winter. I loved it. Felt comfy, like having my mind and spirit cushioned by good strong things. I would have made an excellent recluse.

Jack was seated in the middle of the path, perched precariously on a wobbly stool far too small for a man his size. His knees pressed against stacks of books. He had books open in his lap. A book in his hands. He looked up when Sarai and I walked in, and his smile was warm. Despite all my questions—and fear—I felt a small thrill seeing him.

“My dear girl,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I replied. “But not good.”

I repeated again what I had told Sarai, though with more details. I was not entirely certain how much I could say without blowing their minds, but given the circumstances, I had a bad feeling that Jack Meddle and Sarai Soars knew a great deal more about the state of the supernatural than even I did.

Jack’s subdued reaction did nothing to change that opinion, which sent an unexpected pang through me.

My fantasy, stuck full of pins and needles. I had gone looking for a grandfather, an archaeologist, a regular man who loved books and clutter and digging in the dirt. And what I was getting instead, while perhaps all of those things still, was something… far more complicated. And, perhaps, not as pleasant.

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