T.A. Pratt - Marla Mason 01 by Blood Engines

Author:Blood Engines
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-08T15:04:51+00:00

11

B hung back with Rondeau as they followed Marla out onto Market Street, his mind still well and truly reeling from the events in Dalton’s office. Despite all the outlandish things he’d seen, the oddest thing—in a way—was the look of human feeling on Marla’s face when she wished the Daltons a pleasant afterlife. “That was almost sweet of her,” B said. “What she just said to them.”

“Yeah,” Rondeau said. “It was.”

“If I hadn’t just seen her transform into a vicious, golden-eyed monster draped in purple shadows, I’d almost call it tenderness.”

“The thing about Marla is, you’ve got to embrace the contradictions,” Rondeau said. “The job she has to do, you have to be tough. I’m not saying she’s got a soft squishy center or anything, but there’s more to her than ass-whipping and blunt-force trauma. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be working for her.”

B nodded. In his dream, the first dream about Marla, he’d felt a sense of connection, a depth of feeling, even a degree of enchantment with her. Reality hadn’t done much to reflect the dream, however. B had the definite sense that Marla was trying him out to see if he was the kind of tool she could use. And if he turned out to be useless, she’d toss him aside. He had to make sure that didn’t happen. If he didn’t stay with her, the city would be destroyed. She probably needed him in ways that hadn’t even occurred to her yet. Unfortunately, they hadn’t occurred to him yet, either. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do. “So we’re going to the Tenderloin now?” he said, looking at Marla’s back, her steady stride down Market Street.

Rondeau nodded.

“Ah,” B said. “The fun just doesn’t stop. Does she even know how to get there?”

Rondeau shrugged. “She’s got a bus schedule. We’re probably heading for a bus stop.”

“I thought time was of the essence here? Shouldn’t we take a cab?”

Rondeau waved his hand in a be-my-guest gesture. “Go. Convince her. She doesn’t like taxis. Because the drivers could be taking you anywhere.”

“Like bus drivers can’t steer you wrong?”

“I do not claim to endorse her logic,” Rondeau said. “I am merely reporting it. She mostly travels on foot back home. We could have a limo driving us around here, but Marla likes to keep her feet on the ground.”

B sighed, steeled himself, and lengthened his stride. He fell into step beside Marla and said, “Would you like me to flag down a cab? They’re not too hard to get on Market.”

“We can get a bus, can’t we?” she said.

“It’ll take longer,” B said.

She frowned, then nodded. “Yeah, all right. But only since we’re in a hurry.”

B raised his hand to the next passing cab, which was, fortunately, dented, battered, and in need of a wash. He could tell Marla approved. B and Rondeau got in the backseat, and Marla rode in front. She told the driver the address, reading from the piece of paper.

He grunted and drove on without comment.

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