“Since there are several different species, we usually go withothers.Like other than human.”
“Right, so is Regge? Is he another? He could have killed me with that sword.”
Abraham smirked. “He could have. Regge is as human as you are. But I wouldn’t say you’re totally out of the woods with him either.”
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. My guys are a little trigger happy. I should have just gone on my own.” Julian felt almost comfortable now in this man’s, no,other’spresence. Weird as that was. He felt less alone now, dealing with weird stuff. “I am sorry if the kid’s friend was hurt.”
Abraham said nothing. Julian studied the neighborhood in the lowlight of sunset. It was nice, affluent but not as much as the gated community three streets over. That was deliberate. Ramon didn’t want security guards and HOA busybodies keeping track of his movements.
“Werewolves in Philly, who knew? And where’s the other… Lyncus? I’d like to be on the lookout.” Julian talked when he was nervous, but he also needed this guy to trust him a little.
Abraham sighed. “Pery is what you said, though they prefer the term wolves. They mostly stay under the radar and are not a threat to humans unless crossed.”
Eventually the conversation waned and they sat in a reasonably comfortable silence. Julian had even dozed off when Abraham asked him if there was another entrance into the house.
He drove around the block, turning onto a utility side road and parking. Abraham pulled Ramon from the trunk and hoisted the body over his shoulder. They moved quietly through the trees to Ramon’s back door. Julian punched in the lock code and they were in.
The overhead can lights flicked on, and the distinct sound of a bullet being chambered stopped Julian at the doorway. Abraham crouched to set Ramon’s body on the floor.
Cesar Castenada sat on other side of the kitchen counter, a glass of amber liquid in front of him. Dressed in his usual Saville Row bespoke suit, pristine white shirt and silk tie, he looked like a well-dressed version of Salvador Dali, right down to the thin mustache. Just behind him, his lieutenant hovered with a silenced Glock 17.
“Cesar,” Julian breathed out.
“It’s about time,” Cesar said. “Who is—” His eyes moved to Abraham standing just in front of Ramon’s body. “He’s not needed.” With a flick of Cesar’s hand, the gunman took aim at Abraham.
Abraham blurred into motion, transforming on the fly—claws out and tail swishing. The gun went off. Julian acted on instinct, leaping ahead—not as fast as Abraham but somehow lining himself up in front of him. A firebrand sting searedthrough Julian’s chest, dropping him to the ground. He felt himself hit the tile floor. Heard himself curse.
The gunman fell to the floor beside him, his mouth gaping open. Blood seeped toward Julian from the man’s flayed-open neck. Things happened fast but felt like slow motion. Julian reached for the gun in the man’s hand. From outside the house, he heard thepfftof silenced guns and gasps of dying men.
Cesar didn’t even blink as he pulled a snub-nosed pistol. It was rare that the old man used a weapon, preferring his henchman do the dirty work. But now, Cesar fired, the bullet digging into the floor beside Julian. Ignoring the pain in his side, Julian twisted and fired back. He’d always thought Castenada trusted him, liked him even. But the determination in the old man’s eyes couldn’t be ignored. Julian fired again.
The man he’d learned from, revered even, gave a last gasp before the light left his eyes and he slumped over the counter. Blood and whiskey mixed on the floor of Ramon’s living room.
Julian called out to Abraham, but his voice came out in a croak. He couldn’t get enough air. God, his body hurt. Crawling across the floor, he avoided Cesar’s dripping blood and leaned against the couch.
Abraham had disappeared. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Wounded and alone with two bodies in Ramon’s house. No. Make that three bodies. Ramon was still thawing on the kitchen floor. He closed his eyes for a moment.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Abraham came through with another body over his shoulder, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the first gunman. Looking around at the carnage, he turned to Julian. “Your question? About the other Lyncus? He was much harder to kill than these guys. What happened with the old man?”
“Gun,” Julian rasped out.
Abraham nodded appraisingly and went to grab a kitchen towel to press against Julian’s wound. “You jumped in front of a bullet for me? Are you an idiot?”
“Yes. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He was so tired. Abraham’s voice faded as the pain in his chest ebbed. Around him, Abraham talked as he worked over the bodies.
“We need to clean this up some and get going before the cops get here. I have friends in homicide but no need to make this more difficult.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
“Can you walk?”
Julian nodded, but it was a lie. His legs felt like someone else’s.
Abraham scoffed, picked him up, and carried him to the car. Sirens wailed a few blocks away. Abraham drove them out of the neighborhood.
“You have a choice now. I can drop you at the hospital, but they’ll report a gunshot wound. And with a shooting nearby, it won’t play well. Or you can come with me. I know a doctor who can stitch you up. Either way, you’re not getting out of this car until you give up the disk.”
Julian grunted. “Right pants pocket. Take me to your doc.” He passed out.
