“Tell them to fuck off, Nick,” one of the men called over. The only distinguishing feature of his heavy, doughy face was the mean around his mouth and bloodshot eyes. He laughed like he’d said something funny and slapped the man next to him on the shoulder. “We like our meat well done round here.”
His companion slouched from under the heavy hand and drank his beer. Took checked him out briefly—the jeans were battered Levis with work-worn cuffs, but they were clean and there was no wear on the knees or pockets. Unlike the others, he didn’t wear a stake at his hip or ankle, but he carried himself like he was armed. Took’s money was on a ceramic spike up his sleeve.
Hunter gear but not illegal.
Nick took a deep breath and let it out through tight lips. He rubbed the back of his neck again, his palm slick with sweat, and dropped his voice.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said. “But this is a small town. I’m still going to be here when you leave. You guys don’t even eat. Just go. Okay?”
Madoc shrugged and reached over to snag the menu from Took. He glanced briefly at it and tossed it back onto the table.
“We’ll have coffee,” he said. “Green tea and a slice of pie for my partner. She’s on her way.”
Partner.It startled Took how much it stung to hear someone else called that. He hadn’t even wanted to work with Madoc’s Biters when he was first assigned to them. Like the name suggested, they were mostly vampires. But Madoc had wanted a “daylight perspective,” and even though cardinal was a defunct honor, he still pretty much got what he wanted. Back then he’d resented being designated Madoc’s pet. Now he resented that Lawrence had the title.
He swallowed it. His field skills might have gotten rusty over the last year, but he’d only gotten better at not thinking about things.
“Run your mouth on the way back to the counter,” he told Nick. “We’ve heard worse. They’ll appreciate the show.”
Nick looked trapped.
“What….” He tugged absently at his beard. “What sort of pie.”
Madoc shrugged. “Surprise us,” he said. “And get on with it. I don’t feel this conversation needs an audience.”
There was something in Madoc’s voice, an edge that itched just above the upper range of Took’s hearing. It wasn’t exactly audible, but it vibrated in his sinuses. He worked his jaw from side to side as he tried to pop the airlock.
“What—”
“Fine!” Nick snatched the menu off the table. His fingers left wet smears on the laminated fabric. “I’ll get your goddamn pie. I’ll put my dick in it too. Tell VINE I’ve got some for them too.”
The locals laughed, slapped each other roughly on the back, and urged him on. “Go on, Nick. Let them have it. Think we’re just going to sit back and let them kill our kids?”
The quiet man was the only one who didn’t join in.
“Lawrence,” Took said as he dragged his attention back to Madoc. “I don’t remember her. Anything to do with the Director—”
“What are you here for, Bennett?” Madoc interrupted flatly. “And why are two deputies dead?”
“Do you really give a damn?” Took asked. He could have meant either question.
“Yes,” Madoc said. He could have too.
Fair enough, Took supposed. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the sharp edge of the table.
“I’m still the best preternatural behaviorist on the books,” he said. “So sometimes people ask me to… look into things.”
Madoc raised one heavy, dark eyebrow and smirked. “I always said you were a dick.”
“Not exactly,” Took said. “Usually I don’t need to find people, just mistakes—misinterpreted signatures, behavioral patterns that weren’t identified, the occasional Death Valley prisoner interview they want me to interpret. Most of the cases are dusty, no harm no foul.”
“If you wanted to keep your hand in,” Madoc said, “we’d have paid.”
“They pay,” Took said.
“So do we.”
“VINE doesn’t pay consultant fees to their own employees. I had some… expenses… to cover.”
