Mongrel -Mongrel 1 by K. Z. Snow

Author:K. Z. Snow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: M/M SciFi/Futuristic, Vampires, Source: Amazon
ISBN: 9781615816934
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2010-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

“What the hell is he doing here?” Fanule turned from the window. The sight of Simon Bentcross tapping cigar ashes onto his hydrangea bush helped shake him out of his torpor.

“He gave me a ride,” Will said. “His aeropod is in the field behind your barn.”

“If I can trust him,” added Marrowbone, “surely you can.”

Fanule stared at the vampire, who sat with careless elegance in a corner of the sofa. He recalled the sounds that had come from beneath Will’s wagon last night, the mingled voices he’d heard when he’d slipped outside.

Well, well. There could be no stranger bedfellows than a hunter and his potential prey.

“I thought you’d embraced celibacy.”

Marrowbone lifted and dropped his fingers on the sofa arm. “I’m apparently not immune to persuasion.”

After an uncertain glance at the shutters, Fanule lowered his gaze to the floor. Hands on hips, he weighed the advantages and disadvantages of allowing Bentcross into his home. True, the man didn’t seem to be an irredeemable jackass. And he could provide some valuable information.

Fanule went to the door and opened it. Bentcross turned.

“You’re free to come in,” Fanule said. “Just be aware you’ll have to answer to me and Clancy if you betray us in any way.”

Sheepishly, Bentcross ground out his cigar and approached the stoop. “Facing twin barrels always makes me behave.”

Once they were all inside, Fanule was suddenly struck by Will’s quiet determination. He didn’t have to get involved. Without shame, Fanule walked to the chair where Will sat and knelt at his feet. He took Will’s hand and looked into his eyes.

“Thank you for coming here. It means more to me than I can say.”

Will blushed and smiled. After returning his smile, Fanule turned and sat before the chair. He linked his arms around his upraised legs.

Bentcross cleared his throat. “I think, gentlemen, we need to start putting pieces together. I’m getting some damned bad feelings about my job.”

“Simon’s right,” said Marrowbone. “We all have insights and suspicions to bring to the table.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you think is going on?” Will said, touching Fanule’s shoulder.

So Fanule told them. Maybe sharing his concerns with three other concerned men would invigorate his sense of purpose. Countless people depended on him. He couldn’t founder under the weight of this task.

He began with the historical evidence of Purintonian contempt for Branded Mongrels, something Marrowbone verified. The stories actually made Bentcross wince. From all indications, this contempt had led to an escalation in disappearances and questionable arrests that coincided with other developments: courtroom and institutional secrecy; Hunzinger’s planned opening of the Demimen exhibits; the banning of Mongrels from the Circus.

Fanule told his companions about the petition drive and his meeting with Pushbin. And then, with a spring of bitterness, he spoke of Twigby Hartshorn’s injury and the beggar’s murder.

He rose and grabbed the newspaper so he could show the item to the other three men.

“You’d given him your cloak?” Will asked as Fanule stood before him.

“Yes.”

Apprehension crossed Will’s face. “It’s a unique piece of clothing.

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