Discount Armageddon
Page 23
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Dominic hesitated. I could almost read the conflict on his face. I was, after all, the granddaughter of Alice Healy and Thomas Price, two of the Covenant’s greatest traitors. If he pulled the trigger, he could probably kill me before I had time to draw again. He could go home a hero, secure in the knowledge that any door in the Covenant would be open to him. All he had to do was twitch his index finger, and the world was his. All he had to do was kill a woman who had already surrendered.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than a few seconds, he lowered his crossbow.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What took you so long?” I replied. “I’ve been looking for you for days. It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.”
Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, confusion replacing conflict. “Waiting? Looking for me? I thought this was just another unfortunate encounter. I knew you hadn’t left the city, but I’d rather hoped your rabble-rousing would keep you too busy to come back up here.”
“What do you mean, rabble-rousing? I was looking for you to find out what the hell you think you’re doing. I told you to go home.”
The confusion deepened. “What I’m doing? I’m not the one protecting inhuman monsters by telling them to evacuate.”
I blinked. “Evacuate? Are you kidding? Sure, people are leaving, but it’s nothing like an evacuation.”
“The population here is nothing like what I was told to expect.”
A slow, disturbing certainty was creeping through my veins, bringing a whole host of new questions with it. “Hold on.”
He gave me a politely enquiring look. “Yes?”
“How many cryptids have you killed since the last time I saw you?”
“Not enough of them, and nothing that could speak.” He shook his head, frustration clear in the set of his jaw. “A few more of those giant bats. A vast reptile living beneath a dumpster. Beyond that, there’s been nothing.”
The rest of the ahool’s flock and a lindworm. That definitely didn’t match up with my list of the missing, and both species were nonsapient predators that fed on humans. “Right.” I reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting the near-irresistible urge to scream. “We need to talk. How do you feel about coffee?”
Dominic turned out to feel good about coffee and not so good about coffee shops, even ones that didn’t belong to massive national chains. He’d started glancing anxiously around before we’d even placed our order, and his surprise when I collected the mugs and muffins and turned toward a table was almost comic. Only almost. If he wasn’t responsible for my missing cryptids, and I hadn’t been running the underground evacuation he accused me of, well…
There were several alternatives, and none of them were good.
Breaking off a chunk of muffin, I leaned back in my chair, studying Dominic. He had potential now that I was seeing him in decent light. The good bones I’d noticed on the rooftop were complemented by an even, olive-skinned complexion, and while his hands were covered in small scars, you don’t grow up in a family of cryptozoologists without learning to respect the beauty of a good scar. Scarring means you survived. It was too bad he was a murdering bastard, really. Apart from that, he was pretty darn cute.
Dominic was too distracted to notice my appraisal. His attention was split in twenty directions as he tried to watch all the coffee shop’s patrons and keep a wary eye on me at the same time. It was an impossible task, and he was failing. I could have told him it couldn’t be done and given him some suggestions on filtering the harmless from the potentially dangerous, but it was more interesting to watch him do his own assessment.
Every time his gaze shifted, I learned a little more about the Covenant’s training methods. I can’t say I was impressed. Maybe it was just the difference between American and European crowds throwing him off, but if he was that unsettled by your standard after-midnight coffee freaks, I couldn’t imagine him following a ghoul through a crowded train station. Plus—and this was a big one—he was trying to watch me, too, and I could have poisoned his coffee six times while his attention was directed elsewhere. Shoddy work.
“So,” I said. He jumped in his seat, twisting to face me. I swallowed the urge to smile, and continued, “If you’re not responsible for most of the cryptids who’ve been disappearing, and I’m not responsible for the cryptids who’ve been disappearing, who is? I’m assuming you’re the only one working this city. You would have tried too hard not to say something if you weren’t.”
He blanched, going as pale as was possible for someone with his particular skin tone. “Quiet,” he hissed, in that low whisper that people think is subtle but is actually more likely to attract attention than speaking in a conversational tone. “Do you want people to hear you?”
“Um … not particularly, but I wouldn’t be upset if they did. Why do you ask?”
“The ears of the general populace must be shielded from such blasphemous words.”
“What, ‘are you working alone’ is blasphemy now? No offense, but you need to get out more.”
“Not that.” His voice dropped even lower, a stunt I wouldn’t have believed possible. “They mustn’t know about the … monsters.”
“Wow.”
He blinked. “Wow?”
“Yeah, wow. I didn’t know people actually paused portentously in common conversation. Look, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t know what brand of training you may have had, but I assure you, my caution is more well-deserved than your offhanded dismissal.” He leaned back in his seat and eyed me disdainfully. “It’s clear that you have little experience in these matters.”
I don’t know which annoyed me more; the assumption that my training had somehow been less thorough than his, or the easy dismissal of my field experience. I stiffened, the muscles in my jaw tightening until it felt like I was forcing my next words out through concrete. “Is that so,” I said, making it less a question than a statement.
“I understand that things may be different here. Please believe me when I say that the need for caution is universal.”
“Right.” I raised a hand. “Hold that thought.”
I was standing before he had a chance to react, kicking my chair out from behind me. I grabbed it with my right hand, keeping it from going toppling over, and flipped it around to form a makeshift platform before stepping onto the seat and striking a dramatic pose. Several other patrons turned to look toward the commotion. One wolf-whistled appreciatively. When looking to attract attention in a hurry, there are worse strategies than being female and wearing skintight gray spandex in a coffee shop packed with college-age males.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than a few seconds, he lowered his crossbow.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What took you so long?” I replied. “I’ve been looking for you for days. It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.”
Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, confusion replacing conflict. “Waiting? Looking for me? I thought this was just another unfortunate encounter. I knew you hadn’t left the city, but I’d rather hoped your rabble-rousing would keep you too busy to come back up here.”
“What do you mean, rabble-rousing? I was looking for you to find out what the hell you think you’re doing. I told you to go home.”
The confusion deepened. “What I’m doing? I’m not the one protecting inhuman monsters by telling them to evacuate.”
I blinked. “Evacuate? Are you kidding? Sure, people are leaving, but it’s nothing like an evacuation.”
“The population here is nothing like what I was told to expect.”
A slow, disturbing certainty was creeping through my veins, bringing a whole host of new questions with it. “Hold on.”
He gave me a politely enquiring look. “Yes?”
“How many cryptids have you killed since the last time I saw you?”
“Not enough of them, and nothing that could speak.” He shook his head, frustration clear in the set of his jaw. “A few more of those giant bats. A vast reptile living beneath a dumpster. Beyond that, there’s been nothing.”
The rest of the ahool’s flock and a lindworm. That definitely didn’t match up with my list of the missing, and both species were nonsapient predators that fed on humans. “Right.” I reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting the near-irresistible urge to scream. “We need to talk. How do you feel about coffee?”
Dominic turned out to feel good about coffee and not so good about coffee shops, even ones that didn’t belong to massive national chains. He’d started glancing anxiously around before we’d even placed our order, and his surprise when I collected the mugs and muffins and turned toward a table was almost comic. Only almost. If he wasn’t responsible for my missing cryptids, and I hadn’t been running the underground evacuation he accused me of, well…
There were several alternatives, and none of them were good.
Breaking off a chunk of muffin, I leaned back in my chair, studying Dominic. He had potential now that I was seeing him in decent light. The good bones I’d noticed on the rooftop were complemented by an even, olive-skinned complexion, and while his hands were covered in small scars, you don’t grow up in a family of cryptozoologists without learning to respect the beauty of a good scar. Scarring means you survived. It was too bad he was a murdering bastard, really. Apart from that, he was pretty darn cute.
Dominic was too distracted to notice my appraisal. His attention was split in twenty directions as he tried to watch all the coffee shop’s patrons and keep a wary eye on me at the same time. It was an impossible task, and he was failing. I could have told him it couldn’t be done and given him some suggestions on filtering the harmless from the potentially dangerous, but it was more interesting to watch him do his own assessment.
Every time his gaze shifted, I learned a little more about the Covenant’s training methods. I can’t say I was impressed. Maybe it was just the difference between American and European crowds throwing him off, but if he was that unsettled by your standard after-midnight coffee freaks, I couldn’t imagine him following a ghoul through a crowded train station. Plus—and this was a big one—he was trying to watch me, too, and I could have poisoned his coffee six times while his attention was directed elsewhere. Shoddy work.
“So,” I said. He jumped in his seat, twisting to face me. I swallowed the urge to smile, and continued, “If you’re not responsible for most of the cryptids who’ve been disappearing, and I’m not responsible for the cryptids who’ve been disappearing, who is? I’m assuming you’re the only one working this city. You would have tried too hard not to say something if you weren’t.”
He blanched, going as pale as was possible for someone with his particular skin tone. “Quiet,” he hissed, in that low whisper that people think is subtle but is actually more likely to attract attention than speaking in a conversational tone. “Do you want people to hear you?”
“Um … not particularly, but I wouldn’t be upset if they did. Why do you ask?”
“The ears of the general populace must be shielded from such blasphemous words.”
“What, ‘are you working alone’ is blasphemy now? No offense, but you need to get out more.”
“Not that.” His voice dropped even lower, a stunt I wouldn’t have believed possible. “They mustn’t know about the … monsters.”
“Wow.”
He blinked. “Wow?”
“Yeah, wow. I didn’t know people actually paused portentously in common conversation. Look, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t know what brand of training you may have had, but I assure you, my caution is more well-deserved than your offhanded dismissal.” He leaned back in his seat and eyed me disdainfully. “It’s clear that you have little experience in these matters.”
I don’t know which annoyed me more; the assumption that my training had somehow been less thorough than his, or the easy dismissal of my field experience. I stiffened, the muscles in my jaw tightening until it felt like I was forcing my next words out through concrete. “Is that so,” I said, making it less a question than a statement.
“I understand that things may be different here. Please believe me when I say that the need for caution is universal.”
“Right.” I raised a hand. “Hold that thought.”
I was standing before he had a chance to react, kicking my chair out from behind me. I grabbed it with my right hand, keeping it from going toppling over, and flipped it around to form a makeshift platform before stepping onto the seat and striking a dramatic pose. Several other patrons turned to look toward the commotion. One wolf-whistled appreciatively. When looking to attract attention in a hurry, there are worse strategies than being female and wearing skintight gray spandex in a coffee shop packed with college-age males.
