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directions. She would have bet her last nickel that he was
absolutely aware of everything and everyone in the room,
including her. Pay attention to me when I m talking to you,
Milt.
Milton shivered again. A thin thread of saliva bubbled up
at the corner of his skinny mouth and leaked down his chin.
Sorry, he said. She smells like fresh meat.
Hanson grinned. It was a chillingly good-natured smile. I
didn t ask for your comment on my witch, Milt.
Fine, okay, whatteva. Milton shifted in his chair, the wood
squeaking underneath him. Mari tore her eyes away from his
teeth and looked at Hanson. Oddly enough, she felt safe. He
wouldn t let anything happen to her. He d promised.
If I can believe that, then I can believe that he won t hurt
Theo. Her conscience didn t even twinge.
Of course, if you re not interested& Hanson let the
sentence dangle like a cigarette.
There s something on the streets. Milt leaned over the
table, his voice dropping. It s going through the population
here like a hot knife through butter. It ain t Watcher, either. We d
know if any more of your Black Knife Brigade came through.
It s somethin else, and it s wearing a castoff skin.
A castoff skin? Hanson s eyebrows drew together. That s
odd.
It s fucking scary. The only thing I know that can wear a
skin is a kalak, but this is something else. It don t fly, don t take
a territory, don t talk to anyone. It just sneaks around and eats.
Smells like acid and ink, I ve been told. Word on the street is
it s taking humans and Others.
That s one hell of a menu, Hanson said. His fingers rested
on the Scotch bottle, and his eyes flicked over Milton, scanned
the inside of the bar, and then came back to rest on the thin
man. What else you got? Anyone asking about my witch here?
Not a whisper. We know she s yours, Black-knife. We ain t
about to go after a Lightfall doll. Only the jobbers too stupid to
know otherwise do that. None of us are hungry enough. Besides,
there s plenty of other prey, especially with the way things are
now.
Storm Watcher 157
Hanson shrugged. What about the earthquakes?
Something s drained the power from that damn native
binding, the thin man spat. Lotsa disaster coming. His teeth
gleamed in a broad, razor smile. Lotsa good eatin .
Hanson took his hand away from the neck of the bottle.
Power sparked, flared, and Mari leaned back, unable to help
herself. There you go, Milt. Take it.
The thin man grabbed at the bottle, making a saw-edged
whining sound. He lifted it to his lips and then looked pleadingly
over the glass rim at Hanson.
The Watcher snapped his fingers and flame blossomed. Mari
let out a sharp breath. The Scotch in the bottle ignited, but the
thin man wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and
sucked in. The flame vanished, his pale face blooming with a
red, healthy flush for a moment. Gar, tha s good, he whispered,
then belched resoundingly.
Now get away, Hanson said calmly. I ll be back later.
Don t, Milton said. I hate meetin you like this. Point of
fact, I hate meetin you at all.
That s your misfortune, isn t it. Hanson s voice was cold
enough to freeze the air. Put the word out. Anyone caught
stalking my witch won t even get a warning. Clear?
We already know that, Black-knife. Milton gained his
feet in one lurching movement, the chair legs scraping against
the dirty floor. Mari winced. Hope I never see ya again.
Don t bet on it. Hanson remained stock-still while the
thin man backed up. Mari noticed that his knees under their
tight jeans pointed in opposite directions, off to either side. It
looked painful, and she shivered again as Milton backed away.
Hanson glanced at her. Easy, Lightbringer, he said. I m
here.
Don t call me that, she said, just loud enough to be heard
over the screeching thumps coming from the jukebox. What
do we do now?
We wait a little bit. What do you want me to call you?
How about my name? Hanson, you re acting like
This isn t the time or place for this discussion, he said,
tight-lipped. His eyes flamed blue.
Hanson.
Something cold and sharp touched Mari s cheek. She didn t
even see Hanson move. The flurry of motion ended with him
on his feet, the gun steady and pointed at someone standing
158 Lilith Saintcrow
right behind her. Mari froze, her eyes fixed on Hanson s face.
He looked absolutely calm, his mouth a thin straight line, eyes
level, his cheeks shadowed with dark blond stubble.
Don t make me kill you. He sounded bored.
Just playing, a thin, reedy voice said from behind Mari s
ear. She s a cute one. Why s she hanging out with a bastard
like you?
She s got excellent taste, Hanson returned. Now.
The cold, sharp thing retreated and slid around, dropping
into the chair Milton had just vacated. Mari had to swallow
hard. It had red eyes and a lipless mouth full of razor teeth, and
the hands were twisted, wicked claws. But worst of all was the
way one eye remained fixed on her while the other scanned the
smoky room. You re no fun, it said, sniffing through its nose
holes. See what a spoilsport he is, sweetie? Now me, I m a lot
of fun.
Mari found her voice. I don t date outside my species,
she said, her words cutting through smoke and jukebox noise.
How strange, I sound like Elise.
The thing made a hissing, snarling noise. Mari realized it
was laughing, and chills raced up her spine. Gods, she thought,
and glanced at Hanson. He had settled back into his chair,
apparently relaxed. That made her feel better. So the little doll
has a voice, huh? Talk to me some more, sweets.
Now, why would she want to waste words on you?
Hanson sounded dismissive. His eyes locked with Mari s. What
have you got?
Something s walking the streets, but Millie the Squeaker
told you all about that. I hear there s a gargoyle trailing Blondie,
and I also hear she slipped the leash and went out walking. Pity
you found her. She smells tender.
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