Dead Harvest by Chris F. Holm Read Free Book Online

marked, you're collected – it's as simple as that."
      "Can't you talk to your boss or something – explain there's been some kind of mistake?"
      I shook my head. "Lilith's not exactly the understanding type, Kate, and even if she were, she's not the one calling the shots."
      "Then who is?"
      "The short answer is, I don't know. The longer answer is, I don't know 'cause they don't want me to. Lilith is my handler, and she's the only one I ever deal with – I couldn't go around her if I tried. But she's made it very clear that babysitting me is nothing but a chore to her, something passed down from on high – or on low, I guess you'd say. Besides, I doubt an end run around Lilith would even do us any good. These are the denizens of hell we're talking about, Kate – I've got no reason to believe her bosses would be any more receptive than she would. No, I think the best thing we can do is stay off the radar for a bit, while we figure out what's going on."
      "What happens if they find out that you're helping me?"
      "I don't know," I replied. "As far as I know, no Collector's ever willfully disobeyed an order before. But what we're talking about is mutiny – insubordination against the authority of hell. I'm pretty sure I don't want to find out."
      "Why not just take my soul, then? It's not like I have anything left to live for."
      "I can't. Whatever's going on here, your soul's not mine to take. My job is to collect the wicked, the corrupt. The taking of a pure soul is forbidden – the results would be catastrophic."
      "Catastrophic how?"
      "We're talking some serious End of Days shit here, Kate."
      "Oh," she said. Her eyes no longer met mine; she seemed suddenly fascinated with a spot between us on the floor. "OK, then. But if I'm marked for collection and you can't collect me, where does that leave us?"
      "I don't know. Being marked isn't something you can easily fake – whoever did this has got clout, to say the least. Which means this wasn't just some demon on a joyride – whoever did this had an agenda. The way I figure it, our best bet is to figure out who's behind this before they get wise to the fact that you're not in the ground and send someone to finish us both off. That is, if we can keep clear of the cops for long enough."
      She surprised me with a laugh, full and throaty and beautiful. "That's our best bet?"
      "Near as I can tell."
      "Well, shit," she said, and despite myself, I smiled.
      "Yeah," I replied. "Shit."

7.
     
 
    "So," Kate asked, "what now?"
      I shrugged, chasing a mouthful of pastrami sandwich with a long pull of Brooklyn Lager. It had been a few hours since Kate woke from her little chemical nap – she'd polished off her sandwich in record time, and I was pleased to see some color returning to her cheeks. I'd stuck around until I was pretty sure she wasn't going to make another go of it, but eventually hunger got the best of me. I swapped my scrubs for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and some battered Chuck Taylors, and hiked down to the bodega on the corner for a pack of smokes and a bite to eat. The cigarettes tasted like shit, but the sandwiches weren't half bad, and after a day of traipsing all over town barefoot, I was happy for the wardrobe upgrade. Friedlander might've lived in a dump, but at least I knew the clothes fit.
      "I don't know," I said, finishing my sandwich and tapping a cigarette from the pack. "I've got a contact in the demon-world who might have some idea who's behind this – I thought I'd pay him a visit, see what I can see. Only I'm not exactly relishing the idea."
      "Is he – I mean, do you have to go…" she stammered. "Is he in hell?"
      I laughed. "Near enough – he's in Staten Island."
      "Oh," she replied. "But you've been? To hell, I mean?"
      "Have I been? Sweetheart, I'm sitting in it."
      "I don't understand."
      "Hell isn't some faraway land, Kate. It's right here – in this world, in this