Prowlers: Wild Things by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

offended that Bill had not been there to serve him within seconds of his bellying up to the bar.
    The scent of him, the way he swaggered without even having to move, just set Bill off. He clacked the other customers' beers on the counter and stalked down the bar at the newcomer. Bill bared his teeth, a growl starting up from his throat that had been building in his chest since Wednesday night.
    "Patience is a virtue, my friend," he snarled.
    Most people would have sensed it right off, the threat of violence, the warning of danger that Bill knew must be coming off him in waves. Not this moron. He stood a little taller, righteous and offended.
    "Do you have some kind of problem?"
    Bill grinned. There was nothing friendly or amusing about it. "I don't like your tone."
    The guy actually snickered. "I don't much care if you like my tone. Now, what I'd like is a Crown Royal on the rocks. And if you have a problem, why don't you take it up with your employer before I do."
    Bill narrowed his eyes. Though he had spent years containing the beast, he could feel it straining to be free, the fur threatening to tear through his skin. His upper lip quivered. He was an eyeblink away from tearing the smarmy little man's face off.
    Then he caught the scent.
    Furrowed his brow.
    Lao .
    People in the pub turned to stare at the huge Asian as he walked through the front door and then across to the bar. But they stared because of his size and the tiger tattooed on the side of his bald head, not because they knew what he truly was. Lao stepped up to an empty stool but did not sit, merely stood behind it, waiting patiently, silently.
    Bill focused again on the arrogant fool in front of him. He seemed to have faltered some when he realized he no longer had the bartender's full attention.
    "Go away," Bill told him softly.
    The guy still didn't understand that he was tempting fate. "You know what? I think, instead, I'll go talk to the manager."
    "You do that." Bill spotted Courtney coming down the stairs from the apartment and he pointed her out to the guy. "See that woman on the stairs? That's her. Go on. See if she'll fire me to keep you happy."
    At last, the guy looked unsettled. Bill's dismissal had thrown him off. He glanced over at Courtney and clearly was about to say something more, but Bill was done with him. He left the guy standing there and moved down to speak to Lao.
    None of the humans would notice, or if they did it would be nothing they could put words to, but the air in the pub now was charged with a kind of dark electricity. These two beasts, two old hunters, had never been friends, nor even really friendly. They were wary of one another, and yet the underground — and their acquaintance with Winter — made them unlikely allies. Lao seemed incredibly out of place to Bill, almost surreal as he stood there in the midst of middle-class tourists and local businessmen.
    "Winter sent you?" Bill asked.
    Lao nodded. "He has been unable to find any further information about your niece's whereabouts. As such, he has asked me to accompany you to New York and to introduce you to people there who might be able to aid you."
    With a small chuckle, Bill scratched at his beard and studied the other Prowler. "I hadn't expected to have company. You're sure a phone call wouldn't do for introductions?"
    The throat of the tiger on Lao's skull — where the tattoo covered his temple — pulsed with his heartbeat, as if it were about to spring.
    "Winter has asked me to accompany you. There are places you will not be welcome otherwise." Lao stared a moment longer, then nodded once. "We depart at midnight from the Lotus. You will drive."
    Bill ground his teeth together. Here was another guy whose tone he did not like. But his mind went to Olivia, his only living family, and he knew that putting up with Lao was a small price to pay if he could get her back.
    He nodded in return. "I'll see you there."
    As Lao left the pub, once again drawing the stares of the