Darkness Calls by Marjorie M. Liu Read Free Book Online Page B

could teach me—”
    Grant stopped, a tremor running through him. “It’s in me, Maxine. The possibility of becoming what I hate. I don’t . . . want to hurt people. I don’t want to be the man who justifies hurting people. I don’t want to be that man who believes in his own righteousness, without question.”
    I did not want that, either, though I had more faith in Grant than that. The boys liked him. That said a lot. If Grant did go sour, I had a feeling it would not be the end of the world. Not that I could tell him that. My own brand of callous realism was not something he particularly needed, not now. His urgency was painful—which pained me, too, because Grant was a good man. Driven, in that same spirit, never to do harm. But when you could influence, with nothing but the sound of your voice, the very integrity of a person’s soul—
    Well.
    I reached between us, sliding my hand up his thigh. “How’s your leg?”
    He gave me a wry look. “Don’t distract me. We still have a bullet to discuss.”
    “Bullet done gone and rebounded into a building,” I replied, with more ease than I felt. “And it was an honest question, about your leg.”
    “Then it’s honestly sore. Crushed bone never does heal right.” He leaned in, brushing his lips over my cheek. “I need a heating pad, baby. A lawn chair on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.”
    “It’s probably snowing there, you know.”
    “With you in nothing but your tattoos.”
    “Because looking at demons on my breasts is such a turn-on.”
    “And no one,” he breathed, kissing my ear, “no one for miles around.”
    I turned my head and kissed his mouth. Warmth slid through my heart, down to my toes. I felt catalyzed by his heat: turned over, mixed, becoming something new. His strong hands—already beneath my sweater—moved a fraction higher, his thumbs caressing me, just so; and my breath caught. I tilted back my head, arching into his touch. Aware, keenly, that feeling anything at all was due to the good graces of Zee and the others.
    Bothered me, sometimes. I had never had privacy in my life. But a person could get used to anything. Almost.
    I wanted him to forget. I wanted to forget. I wanted something better to remember than bullets and zombies and dead girls. I wanted to be free and warm, and human.
    I brushed my lips over his cheek, and reached for the zipper of his jeans.

CHAPTER 4
    I could not fly in an airplane; that much was clear. Not a commercial aircraft, and probably not even a private one. Airplanes were dangerous territory. Short flights, I suspected, would be all right—but long international travel, the kind that crossed date lines where the sun rose and set while you were in the air, might prove disastrous. The boys woke when the sun went down. Peeled straight off my body, hungry and ready for trouble. Simple as that. No matter where, or how inconvenient it might be.
    Nor did I have time to arrange the proper documentation for a visit to China. A quick search on Google made that perfectly clear. I had a passport, but no visa. Grant’s luck was better, if more dubious. Due to whatever influence Father Cribari had brought to bear on his contact in the local Chinese embassy, Grant would have his visa within hours as opposed to days. He was scheduled to fly to Shanghai late that morning. Which meant I had less than the wink of an eye to come up with a solution.
    Luckily, I had one. If I could find him.
    But first, that bullet. I needed some answers. Confirmation, if nothing else. Which led me on a circuitous path through the homeless shelter, searching for a zombie.
    I found Rex in the basement. Years ago the warehouses that made up the Coop had been used in the manufacture of furniture. Most of the old equipment had been cleared away, but the lower levels—off-limits to everyone but a handful—still housed an array of mysterious and elaborate iron machines whose purpose, I was sure, could not be nearly as remarkable as what I