Kinzer pulled it out.
“Veylo something. I don’t… I don’t know the guy myself. He came through a friend… guy by the name of Marc Branson.”
“Where do I find him?”
“He has a place that he runs down on Feinstein’s. It’s the kinda place you’d expect that kind of guy to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whores… they work for higher-end clients. Now, just stop. Just let me go.”
“And where’s this place?”
“Corner of Feinstein’s and Ray’s. Entrance is in the rear. Now, Jesus Christ, just leave me alone. They’re gonna kill me if they find out I told you.”
Jerry shivered, his face so white Maggie thought he was liable to pass out.
“That was kinda harsh,” Maggie said as they walked back to the parking garage, heading around the hospital.
“I don’t expect you to understand what I did back there, but I promise you, that guy deserves so much worse than what you saw.”
Maggie wanted to press, but decided she’d just take his word for it.
A scream filled the air.
Passersby clustered together and hurried alongside an alley beside the hospital.
Kinzer and Maggie tailed behind them. Maggie had a feeling she knew what they were about to find before they rounded the corner and saw the disfigured Jerry lying across the pavement, blood rushing out of his skull.
She gasped and looked at Kinzer, expecting him to show some guilt or shame.
Kinzer snarled and spun around, heading off.
“Fucking coward,” he muttered.
“He said they were going to torture him if they discovered what he’d told you.”
“Well, he should have faced it then. Humans are such cowards. I’ve endured eons of pain and suffering, and you pathetic mortals can’t stand what brief time you have here. It’s ridiculous.”
He stopped. Turned to Maggie. “Sorry. I know when I say mortals it’s a huge generalization. I’m just referring to the cowards like Jerry.”
But Kinzer didn’t realize that his words were directed at her, too, for in her past, she’d been guilty of a similar temptation—to end it all, to leave the darkness and pain behind. Would Kinzer have judged her as he judged Jerry? Surely, he would have.
“I know,” Maggie said, attempting to appease Kinzer’s rage and get off the subject.
***
“Just stay close to me,” Kinzer said. “And remember, we’re dating. You have two kids, and—”
“It’s a brothel, Kinzer. I don’t think there’s going to be a questionnaire.”
Though Kinzer understood Maggie’s criticism, she wasn’t aware of how underprepared they were to deal with any immortals they may have encountered. He’d insisted she stay back at the factory where they’d set up shop, but after a long-winded fight with her insisting all her training was for nothing if she couldn’t put it into practice, he’d finally caved.
On the way there, they’d discussed Kinzer’s plan. They would arrange a liaison with a prostitute, bind her in whatever room they were set up in, and track down this guy Marc, who presumably would tell Kinzer where he could find Veylo.
It wouldn't really be so easy, but it was the only plan they had.
He and Maggie had shoved small knives, made from immortal materials, into the heels of their shoes. Kinzer didn’t imagine any immortals would work at the joint. It would be like Jerry’s—a scummy mortal construct—but he wanted to be prepared just in case.
