Cal Leandros #03 - Madhouse by Rob Thurman

Author:Rob Thurman [Thurman, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-03-04T03:00:00+00:00

14

Delilah was a wolf of her word. She took the pay, and two days later she showed up in the tunnel as shown on the map of the Second Avenue subway project Niko had sketched on a bar napkin. She also brought four other wolves with her. Big ones, all half-and-halfs and wearing hooded sweatshirts to cover the fact. It didn’t stop an experienced eye from spotting the glitter of golden-brown irises, thickened black nails, and jagged teeth made for the ripping out of throats.

Niko, Promise, Robin, Boggle, Delilah with her wolves, and me, if we couldn’t take care of the problem, we might as well grab a walker, move south with the snowbirds, and let Sawney have New York.

“Did you leave the kiddies with a nanny?” Robin asked as he looked up at the boggle. He didn’t have any better memories from the fight with her mate than Niko or I did. It showed in the wary distance he kept from her.

From the contemptuous snap of her jaw and gale-force snort of rancid air, she managed to say without words that the boglets would do just fine on their own. I wasn’t sure where she’d gotten into the tunnel system to eventually meet us, but I doubted it had involved a MetroCard.

“This is quite the mix.” Promise’s hair was in a braid this time, one woven with black cord, then wrapped in a thick club at the base of her neck. She smiled to show the tips of pointed canines. “The very best parties always are.”

In contrast, Delilah was already frowning in impatience. “We go now. Skipped dinner. Mealtime is now.”

“You didn’t eat simply to work up an appetite for this?” Niko had brought his axe again and raised it slightly in respectful salute. “You are the warrior.”

“Devious and ravishing.” Robin sidled closer. He’d made the sacrifice called for by filthy tunnel water and wore jeans. My jeans. He didn’t own any. Hit men after his ass he had plenty of, but casual wear for revenant hunting-that he was lacking.

“Devious, ravishing.” She snuffled his hair, neck, and shoulder and it wasn’t in what I would call a sexual way. “Hungry.”

“All right, then. Moving along. Let us return Sawney to the hell from whence he came.” Goodfellow was in the lead and moving with alacrity. He was armed with a sword, as was Promise. I had my guns, and the wolves and the boggle had what nature gave them. As we moved, Boggle…if she had a name, she also wasn’t sharing…slid under the water with the slow grace of a crocodile. When she surfaced, the mud was gone, and her mottled scales held the pattern of an entire desert full of rattlesnakes. Then she went under again. The water here had been thigh deep; now it was almost waist high. It didn’t cover her completely. You could still see the ridge of her spine and the glow of her eyes in the dim light, but she moved fast. So fast that within seconds she had disappeared-past Goodfellow and gone.

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