Magic Bites by Ilona Andrews Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ilona Andrews
everyone can afford it, so twice a week I do it here pro bono."
I nodded.
"It's kids mostly," he said. "Torn up and mauled. Not a pretty sight. Such a waste."
We reached the upper floor. He waited while I checked out with the clerk and wrote down Julianne's Page 26
number, and then walked me to the door.
"So I'll see you again sometime?" he said.
"Hopefully not on the operating table," I said and left the building. As I walked away to where Karmelion waited for me, I could feel Crest watching my back.
A man was leaning against my truck. He wore a dark' gray shirt, black jeans, tucked in soft boots, and a black cloak that wanted very much to be a cape. While I was in the morgue, the sun had broken through the clouds, flooding the streets with sunshine. He seemed to shrug off the sun's rays—not a man, but a rectangle of darkness cut in the shroud of sunlight.
The human current streaming up the street bent away from him. People didn't eye him; in fact, they concentrated so hard on ignoring his presence, one could have dropped a twenty dollar bill on the ground and it might have gone unnoticed.
The man's eyes tracked my movement. I stopped a few feet away and looked at him.
He reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and flicked what looked like a long yellow ribbon at me. I caught it in midflight. The smooth, cold body coiled about my wrist, and the serpentine head reared to strike at my face. I clamped its neck with fingers of my left hand and stopped it three inches from my cheek. The snake's tongue danced between the scaly lips. Blood red membranes tinged with brilliant purple flared on both sides of the head, spreading like the wings of an enormous butterfly. The baby winged snake shuddered, trying to take flight, but I held it in check.
"I'm sorry, Jim."
He held up his arms, indicating something about three feet wide. The cloak parted enough to show muscle roll across his chest under the fabric of his shirt. "The nest was this big, Kate." His voice had the smooth, almost melodious tone of a less dangerous, much prettier man. It clashed badly with his bulldog-ugly mug. "You owe me and you stood me up. I had to do the gig single-handed."
The snake twisted in a feeble attempt to sink its fangs into my arm. The long triangular teeth contained no poison but the bite hurt like hell.
"Greg's dead," I said.
There was a tiny pause before he asked, "When?"
"Two days ago. He was murdered."
"You on it?"
"Yeah."
We stood for a while, caught in a painful silence. He peeled himself from my truck, moving with the liquid, animal grace that only a master shapechanger could achieve.
"You need anything, you know where to find me."
I nodded and watched him walk up the stairs to the morgue.
Page 27
"Jim?"
He scowled at me over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing at the morgue?"
"Pack business," he said and moved on.
Everyone had business in the morgue these days. Even Jim. I still owed him for this winter when he pulled me out of a mud pit full of melted snow and hydra. He was the closest thing to a partner I had.
Once in a while we shared merc jobs from the Guild. This time I had stood him up. I'd have to make it up to him. But first, I'd have to find out who killed Greg. To do that I would have to figure out what Ghastek's vampire was doing at the murder scene.
I eased the pressure on the snake's neck and gently tossed it into the air. The serpent plummeted and suddenly took flight. It soared higher and higher, far above the rooftops into the sunshine, until it finally disappeared from sight.
WHEN IN DOUBT AND IN NEED OF INFORMATION, find a snitch and squeeze him. That was one of the very few investigative techniques I was aware of. As a matter of fact, that and the "annoy principals involved until the guilty party decides to kill you" pretty much summed it up for me. Move over, Sherlock.
I was definitely in doubt and in need of information concerning Ghastek's dead vampire, and I knew just the person
I nodded.
"It's kids mostly," he said. "Torn up and mauled. Not a pretty sight. Such a waste."
We reached the upper floor. He waited while I checked out with the clerk and wrote down Julianne's Page 26
number, and then walked me to the door.
"So I'll see you again sometime?" he said.
"Hopefully not on the operating table," I said and left the building. As I walked away to where Karmelion waited for me, I could feel Crest watching my back.
A man was leaning against my truck. He wore a dark' gray shirt, black jeans, tucked in soft boots, and a black cloak that wanted very much to be a cape. While I was in the morgue, the sun had broken through the clouds, flooding the streets with sunshine. He seemed to shrug off the sun's rays—not a man, but a rectangle of darkness cut in the shroud of sunlight.
The human current streaming up the street bent away from him. People didn't eye him; in fact, they concentrated so hard on ignoring his presence, one could have dropped a twenty dollar bill on the ground and it might have gone unnoticed.
The man's eyes tracked my movement. I stopped a few feet away and looked at him.
He reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and flicked what looked like a long yellow ribbon at me. I caught it in midflight. The smooth, cold body coiled about my wrist, and the serpentine head reared to strike at my face. I clamped its neck with fingers of my left hand and stopped it three inches from my cheek. The snake's tongue danced between the scaly lips. Blood red membranes tinged with brilliant purple flared on both sides of the head, spreading like the wings of an enormous butterfly. The baby winged snake shuddered, trying to take flight, but I held it in check.
"I'm sorry, Jim."
He held up his arms, indicating something about three feet wide. The cloak parted enough to show muscle roll across his chest under the fabric of his shirt. "The nest was this big, Kate." His voice had the smooth, almost melodious tone of a less dangerous, much prettier man. It clashed badly with his bulldog-ugly mug. "You owe me and you stood me up. I had to do the gig single-handed."
The snake twisted in a feeble attempt to sink its fangs into my arm. The long triangular teeth contained no poison but the bite hurt like hell.
"Greg's dead," I said.
There was a tiny pause before he asked, "When?"
"Two days ago. He was murdered."
"You on it?"
"Yeah."
We stood for a while, caught in a painful silence. He peeled himself from my truck, moving with the liquid, animal grace that only a master shapechanger could achieve.
"You need anything, you know where to find me."
I nodded and watched him walk up the stairs to the morgue.
Page 27
"Jim?"
He scowled at me over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing at the morgue?"
"Pack business," he said and moved on.
Everyone had business in the morgue these days. Even Jim. I still owed him for this winter when he pulled me out of a mud pit full of melted snow and hydra. He was the closest thing to a partner I had.
Once in a while we shared merc jobs from the Guild. This time I had stood him up. I'd have to make it up to him. But first, I'd have to find out who killed Greg. To do that I would have to figure out what Ghastek's vampire was doing at the murder scene.
I eased the pressure on the snake's neck and gently tossed it into the air. The serpent plummeted and suddenly took flight. It soared higher and higher, far above the rooftops into the sunshine, until it finally disappeared from sight.
WHEN IN DOUBT AND IN NEED OF INFORMATION, find a snitch and squeeze him. That was one of the very few investigative techniques I was aware of. As a matter of fact, that and the "annoy principals involved until the guilty party decides to kill you" pretty much summed it up for me. Move over, Sherlock.
I was definitely in doubt and in need of information concerning Ghastek's dead vampire, and I knew just the person
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