Dexter 3 - Dexter in the Dark by Jeff Lindsay Read Free Book Online Page B

had
just occurred to me, and probably it meant nothing at all, but here I was in
mid-sentence already, so I went on with it. "Have you ever heard of a
santero using ceramics? And
     
    bulls-don't they have a thing for goat heads?"
    She looked at me very hard for a minute, then shook
her head. “That's it? That's what you got?”
    “I told you, Debs, I don't got anything. It was
only a thought, something that just now came to me.”
    “Well,” she said. “If you're telling me
the truth-”
    “Of course I am,” I protested.
    “Then, you've got doodly-squat,” she said and looked away,
back to where Captain Matthews was answering questions with his solemn, manly
jaw jutting out. “Which is only slightly less than the horsepucky I
got,” she said.
    I had never before grasped that doodly-squat was less
than horsepucky, but it's always nice to learn something new. And yet even this
startling revelation did very little to answer the real question here: Why had
the Dark Passenger pulled a duck and cover? In the course of my job and my
hobby I have seen some things that most people can't even imagine, unless they
have watched several of those movies they show at traffic school for driving
drunk. And in every case I had ever encountered, no matter how grisly, my
shadow companion had some kind of pithy comment on the proceedings, even if it
was only a yawn.
    But now, confronted by nothing more sinister than two charred bodies
and some amateur pottery, the Dark Passenger chose to scuttle away like a scared
spider and leave me without guidance-a brand-new feeling for me, and I
discovered I did not like it at all.
    Still, what was I to do? I knew of no one I could talk
to about something like the Dark Passenger; at least, not if I wanted to stay at
liberty, which I very much did. As far as I was aware, there were no experts on
the subject, other than me. But what did I really know about my boon companion?
Was I really that knowledgeable, merely because I had shared space with it for
so long? The fact that it had chosen to scuttle into the cellar was making me
very edgy, as if I found myself walking through my office with no pants on.
When it came down to the nub of things, I had no idea what the Dark Passenger
was or where it came from, and that had never seemed all that important.
    For some reason, now it did.
    image
    A modest crowd had gathered by the yellow tape barrier
the police had put up. Enough people so that the Watcher could stand in the
middle of the group without sticking out in any way.
    He watched with a cold hunger that did not show on his
face-nothing showed on his face; it was merely a mask he wore for the time
being, a way to hide the coiled power stored inside. Yet somehow the people
around him seemed to sense it, glancing his way nervously from time to time, as
if they had heard a tiger growling nearby.
    The Watcher enjoyed their discomfort, enjoyed the way they stared in
stupid fear at what he had done. It was all part of the joy of this power, and
part of the reason he liked to watch.
    But he watched with a
purpose right now, carefully and deliberately, even as he watched them scrabble
around like ants and felt the power surge and flex inside him. Walking meat, he
thought. Less than sheep,
     
    and we are the shepherd.
    As he gloated at their
pathetic reaction to his display he felt another presence tickle at the edge of
his predator's senses. He turned his head slowly along the line of yellow
tape-There. That was him, the one in the bright Hawaiian shirt. He really was
with the police. The Watcher reached a careful tendril out toward the other,
and as it touched he watched the other stop
    cold in his tracks and close his eyes, as if asking a silent
question-yes. It all made sense now. The other had felt the subtle reach of
senses; he was powerful, that was certain.
    But what was his purpose? He watched as the other
straightened up, looked around, and then seemingly shrugged it off and crossed
the police