My foot found an imperfection in the pavement. I slid, and almost landed on my ass. Pain bit my leg. I bent forward, waiting for it to pass and growling wordless curses under my breath.

“Do you need me to carry you?” a voice whispered into my ear. “Again?”

I spun and hammered an uppercut into the speaker’s midsection. My fist met a wall of solid muscle.

“Good punch,” Curran said. “For a human.”

Yeah yeah. I heard you exhale when I hit you. You felt it. “What do you want?”

“Where is your pretty date?”

“Where is yours?”

I started toward the building again. The only way to get away from him was to climb up the stairs and shut the ward in his face.

“Home,” he said. “Waiting for me.”

“Well, do me a fucking favor and go see her.”

I reached the stairs and sat down. My leg demanded a break.

“Hurts?”

“No, I like sitting on filthy steps in an expensive evening dress.”

“You’re a bit surly tonight,” he observed. “Not getting laid will do that.”

I looked at the night sky, at the tiny dots of stars. “I’m tired, my leg hurts, and there’s shit that needs answers and I can’t find any.”

“Like what?”

I sighed. “One, I don’t know who killed Greg and why. Two, we found no evidence of the necro-tainted animals that killed your people. Three, Greg’s file mentioned women. Why did Olathe take them and what did she do with them?”

He bent low toward me. “It’s over,” he said. “And you’ve got a bad case of spotlight deprivation.”

“A bad case of what?”

“You’re a no-name merc and all of a sudden everyone wants to talk to you. The power brokers of the city know your phone number. Makes you feel important. And now the dance is done. I sympathize.” His voice dripped derision. “But it’s over.”

“You’re wrong.”

Curran walked away.

“She called you a half-breed,” I told his back. “Why?”

He ignored me.

I forced myself to my feet and went upstairs. I got into the apartment, changed clothes, threw together a bag of stuff I didn’t want to be without, took Slayer, and went downstairs again. I started Karmelion, biting off the words of the chant like a snapping dog, and pulled out of the parking lot. I’ve had it with this whole bloody city. I was going home. To my real home.

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8