Ilona Andrews - The Edge 03 by Fate's Edge

Author:Fate's Edge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-12-03T22:50:49+00:00

TEN

KALDAR lay on a low ridge, wearing one of the Mirror’s night suits. The fabric, painted with swirls in a dozen shades of gray, hugged his body, formfitting but too elastic to hinder his movements. With the hood hiding his hair and his face painted gray and black, he supposed he resembled a ninja.

It was good that nobody could see him because he looked completely ridiculous.

Although, come to think of it, the suits did have their advantages. For example, if one had decent night vision, he could admire the way the stretchy fabric clung to Audrey’s incredibly shapely ass …

“Kaldar,” Audrey hissed. “Stop looking at my butt.” Behind them, Gaston made some choked-up noises that might have been coughing but really resembled chortling.

She had a sixth sense. That had to be it. He would never again take woman’s intuition lightly.

She leaned closer, her whisper so quiet he had to strain to hear it. “Do you ever take anything seriously?” “No.”

Audrey shook her head and raised her binoculars to her eyes, looking down on the house three miles below. Kaldar picked up his binoculars and looked, too. The full moon ducked in and out of torn clouds, dappling the building with patches of silvery light and deep shadow. The house sat in the middle of the shallow valley, surrounded by palms and greenery. The building rose two stories high, with white arches sheltering a long front porch under a bright orange roof. Five thousand square feet, at least. A tennis court stretched in front of the house. To the left, a fenced-in field contained a horse course with white gates. Farther back, a barn loomed, and next to it a caretaker’s house. To the right, a picturesque pool gleamed in the weak moonlight. Except for a gun tower behind the house and the ring of metal spikes circling the house, which served as anchors for the defensive spells, the place looked like a tropical resort built by a Spanish family with unlimited funds.

The humble abode of Arturo Pena. Kaldar gritted his teeth. If houses could tell stories, this one would bleed.

According to Gaston, Arturo Pena prayed on coyotes, the human traffickers who ferried illegals from Mexico into the embrace of the State of California. Arturo and his band of hired lowlifes ambushed the coyote vehicles, extracted the cargo, and sold the people in the Democracy of California’s slave markets. Half of the people died making the crossing into the Weird. The other half followed shortly thereafter. There was a reason why the robber barons always needed fresh bodies to till the fields, build their castles, and fight in their armies.

Nobody ever missed Pena’s victims. The Broken’s California didn’t know they existed; the Broken’s Mexico lost jurisdiction once they left its borders, and the victims themselves had no idea where they were taken. Those who ran away never found their way back across the boundary.

Pena was a sonovabitch of the first order. His name was spoken in whispers. The local Edgers feared

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