The Hunter and the Hunted: Two Stories of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page B

moved on. And the Erinys moved in.
    “Do you have what I need?” she whispered to Stranz.
    His voice quavered as he said he did. He passed her what sounded like a piece of paper. I managed to clear a peephole through the porch, but there was no way in hell I could see what was written on the paper the Erinys was now reading.
    When she finished, she crushed the paper. Light flashed. She opened her hand, and fine ash drifted to the floor. Great.
    “That’s what you needed, isn’t it?” Stranz asked.
    “It is. I will do as we discussed.”
    Which is . . . ? Come on, guys. Give me something..
    Light footsteps crossed the porch, heading back inside. One set of footprints, as the Erinys walked away.
    Shit!
    I hurried around the building under the cover of a blur spell. I reached the entrance just in time to see the Erinys striding across the main room. She passed behind the three Sumerians, still discussing lunch. I saw her walk behind them . . . and I didn’t see her come out again. She’d crossed over to another dimension. Which one? I had no idea.
    •  •  •
    I followed Stranz instead, though I didn’t know what good that would do. Clearly the Erinys was the one to stalk now. Her mission of revenge was almost certainly what Kristof was looking for.
    As Stranz crossed back into the museum, I tailed him on autopilot as I flipped through my mental Rolodex. There were two Erinyes I could speak to—one was a contact, one owed me a favor. Neither would inform on her sister, but I might be able to get some information about this particular Erinys. I could also dig deeper into Stranz’s afterlife and figure out why he’d need one of the Furies..
    Yet in the afterlife, it’s hard to wrong someone so grievously that they could invoke an Erinys. Murder is out of the question, obviously. Possessions are easy enough to come by, and Erinyes don’t avenge mere theft. And what could the demi-demon inflict on a ghost anyway?
    Damn. It had to be a wrong committed in the mortal realm. But I couldn’t imagine Stranz had waited thirty years to take revenge for something from his lifetime. Maybe he’d just discovered that someone he cared about had been hurt or killed. But why would that interest an afterlife prosecutor?
    My brain was still spinning when I realized that Stranz wasn’t heading for the exit. I probably should have figured that out as soon as I found myself climbing stairs to the second floor, but as a celestial bounty hunter, I’m so accustomed to following people that I don’t need to engage much of my brain to do it. Once up there, Stranz didn’t seem to be sightseeing or heading to a specific destination. He was just wandering—quickly.
    Had he spotted me? I saw no evidence of that. He didn’t glance back or duck down rear hallways or try to lose himself in a crowd. He just kept walking. Through Egypt, then over to Iran and Mesopotamia and across Europe.
    Between Europe and Ancient Greece, there was a space for temporary exhibits. Today, it was empty. Well, empty of exhibits. Filled with people. A massive tour group milled about like a herd of lost sheep. Stranz could have gone through them or turned back. Instead he veered into a back hall, moving faster now. He turned, then turned again, getting deeper into the warren of halls. Another turn and . . .
    Silence. One second his shoes had been tap-tapping along. Then nothing. I cast a quick cover spell. Had he heard me? Was he lurking around that corner, waiting for his stalker to pass?
    Shoes squeaked on linoleum. Stranz stumbled around the corner, as if he’d been shoved out. He glanced back, face tight with annoyance, and muttered something under his breath as he resumed walking.
    I let him round the next corner, then hurried down that side aisle. It was a short one, maybe ten feet long, ending at a door marked “Private” and “Please use other entrance.”
    I tried the door. It was locked, and an unlock spell didn’t fix that. When I