The Business Of Death, Death Works Trilogy by Trent Jamieson Read Free Book Online

am going to lose it right here in the middle of the city.
    We’re on George Street, heading to Roma Street and the train station, stumbling through late-morning crowds: all the business and government types up this end of the city, heading out for their coffees, oblivious to what’s going on. People are being killed. My people. It can’t be happening. Part of me refuses to believe it, even now, but those violent, painful pomps tell me otherwise.
    I could feel resentful, but that’s going to serve no useful purpose. The further I get away from Number Four though, the better.
    To the left are the council chambers, reaching up into the sky, looking like a Lego tower of Babel constructed by a not particularly talented giant infant who nonetheless had
big
ideas. Just to my right is Queen Street Mall where, only yesterday, I was running for my life. Who’d have thought it would become something of a habit? Behind me, the state government building looms shabbily, a testament to, or rather an indictment of, eighties’ architecture.
    Tim works in that building.
    “Where are you going?”
    I turn around heading toward Tim’s building, hardly realizing I’m doing it.
    Lissa’s in my face, hands waving, sliding backward to keep out of my reach. “Are you stupid? This is the wrong way.”
    I stop and stare at Lissa. How do I even know I can trust her? But there’s something there, surely. Something in her gaze that tells me I can.
    “No, it isn’t.”
    “I don’t want you to die.”
    “I know,” I snap. “That much I get.” And I don’t want to die either, not with her around.
    Her face creases with irritation. “You’re making the concept easier for me, though.” She slides to my right. Turns her back on me. I’m almost relieved; the fire in that gaze would consume me. She passes into a patch of light and is almost completely devoured by it. But then she’s out and staring at me.
    “Well? Aren’t you going to keep moving?”
    We cross George Street, pass the stately sandstone edifice of the Treasury Casino. The street’s not as crowded on this side, away from the shops. There are a few buses coming and going and people are heading toward the government building, or office towers; suits and skirts of the power variety. The Riverside Expressway is a block away, and a cool breeze blowing up from the river carries all that traffic noise toward me. Traffic, not the creaking of the One Tree.
    I get to the glass doors which front the government building and stop. A couple of blocks down, the door to Number Four is waiting. My skin crawls—that sense of being watched again. Still, I hesitate. I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone.
    No, I can’t draw him into this. Not yet. I put the phone away.
    I have to figure this out. On my own, or with the help of my kind. This isn’t Tim’s problem, he’s a Black Sheep—government liaison or not—and my best friend, and there’s no way I’m going to drag him into whatever this is. He made his choice not to be involved in thebusiness years ago, and I’m going to honor that. Besides, I doubt there is anything he can do.
    I turn around, walk back down the street in the direction of Roma Street Station, keeping to as much cover as I can. Lissa’s presence makes me stand out in a crowd—to those who know how to look, anyway.
    I think about that damn disconcerting door, and whoever it was I pomped. The pomps had been too fast for a visual, but the souls seemed familiar somehow. Perhaps Morrigan, or Derek? I can’t imagine either of them dead.
    The day’s warm but I’m shivering in my suit.
    Lissa looks at me. “It’s going to be all right. Take some deep breaths. Try and calm yourself down, Steven.”
    “You really think this is going to be all right?” I growl. She looks away. “How the fuck is this going to end well?”
    “You have to believe it will, or you might as well just sit down now, and do nothing. Wait for whoever it is to find you, if you want. Let