Walking Shadows. Narrelle M Harris
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Instead I looked at Magdalene, who was glaring up at the window of her burning club with disgust, probably calculating how much it was going to cost to set it all right again.
"You insured?" I asked, unwilling to bear the quiet and unable bring myself to ask her what was going to happen to Thomas.
Her acid gaze shifted to me. "Of course," she said, then looked up at the window again, her head cocked as though she was listening to something besides me and the burning of her livelihood.
When vampires hear something you can't, it's best to pay attention. I peered around the space. At only four or five metres square and surrounded by tall buildings, you wouldn't think someone could sneak up, but the area was studded with little alcoves and stumpy insets of alleys that had been built over. Any number of shadows to skulk in there. Then I noticed that Magdalene's head was angled upward and I raised my eyes to the roofline.
A shape lurched within a line of deepening shadow and I tried to define it. Someone was climbing down a ladder embedded in the bricks in one of the longer truncated alleys. Another fire escape. That made better sense than Smith and those girls having shinnied up Gary's drain pipe. None of them had a vampire's innate shinnying skills. Which meant that Gary could have left an easier way if Magdalene had bothered to inform him of it.
The ladder rattled. The figure steadied itself then resumed the descent, still moving awkwardly. After a moment I analysed where the lop-sided gait came from, and my fist closed over the esky bag's handle. With luck it wasn't too late for the contents to be of use to its owner.
Mundy reached the ground and spent a moment smoothing down his coat and trousers. I'd never really noticed before how slightly he was built. His crown of curly dark blond hair made him look vaguely fragile as well, but when he raised his head to glare a challenge at us I recalled that however much he looked like a pale Byronic poet, he was a bastard of the first water.
I know he saw me. Ignoring me as thoroughly as he did took some effort. Instead, his gaze raked over Thomas's huddled figure and then he nodded at Magdalene.
"You appear to have been visited by the same vexing trouble that has disrupted me today," he said impassively.
"And that idiot brought them here," Magdalene said, nodding curtly at Thomas.
"Naahh, aaaahh," protested Thomas, wagging his head. At least, I thought it was a protest. It wasn't clear that he really understood what was being said.
Magdalene kicked Thomas's broken leg, making it bend horribly. White bone protruded from the shin, surrounded by bloodless meat. Thomas groaned this time and grabbed at the limb with his one good arm. The one with the fingers fused together. "Naaaoooohhh," he groaned.
She gathered up her smoke-ruined skirts and kicked his broken arm. The limb flopped and twisted and he fell sideways trying to catch it. She drew her foot back for another go.
"Don't!"
"Feeling sympathetic, are you?" she asked me in her sweet nanna voice.
"Just don't," I said, wishing I could keep the tremor out of my speech, wishing I was not here, or, at any rate, not alone.
"Do ignore Thomas, my dear." I started violently at the voice in my ear. I hadn't even heard Mundy move that close to me, "There are better uses for you."
Compulsively, I stepped away from him, saying defiantly: "I hear you could use a hand." A cheap shot, but it wiped that mocking smile off his face. Unfortunately, the snarl that replaced it displayed his pointed teeth. My throat tingled in another ghost scar, where Mundy had tried to eat me. My second bite. He looked ready to try again.
Way to go Lissa. Piss off the bad-ass vampire. I didn't dare look away from him, as though staying eyeball-to-eyeball was the only way to stop him from lunging for my throat. Feverishly, I tried to think of a ploy to change the subject from 'let's eat the irritating girl' to, well, anything else at all.
Mundy and Magdalene both tensed, hearing something. I kept my gaze on Mundy's, not game to take the risk of breaking eye contact. Next there was a thump and the sound of someone walking over the crackling ground cover.
"Oh. Um. Hi." Gary appeared to have missed all the vital signs and wandered into our midst, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He looked around, as though surprised and stuck for words. "Did I miss something?"
"Only the usual," My breath hitched halfway through the last word. I wished snappy comebacks were half as easy as they look in the movies.
"Mundy." Gary nodded at him, casual as you please, as though Mundy showing up now was expected and right. For all that, Gary made a point of walking up to me, standing between me and Mundy.
Mundy regarded him speculatively and relaxed slightly. Switching from hunter-mode back to watcher. Deciding that, for now, biting me was more trouble than he could be bothered with, if Gary was going to make a fuss about it.
"Your little friend is being terribly sweet," said Magdalene, "She thinks we should help Thomas." She nodded at the wreckage. Gary's eyes widened at the sight.
"You should help him," I said, heartily sick of these foul people.
"Why?" Magdalene sounded genuinely puzzled.
"Because he's your..." What? Friend, colleague, partner? It was oh so clear he was none of those.
"He's one of you," I tried, and Mundy actually laughed.
"What do you suggest we do then?" asked Magdalene.
"You could take him somewhere; let his bones mend."
"Yes. We could do that," she said reasonably. "What do you think, Mundy?"
"Oh yes. I believe that would be satisfactory for all concerned."
"Shall I?"
"This isn't a bloody joke." Bad enough that they were cruel without them trying to be funny about it.
"There's nothing we can do," Gary muttered beside me. "He's... His mind is not, um, there."
I thought I could detect fear in him.
"I suppose he's what you'd call a zombie now. He's just a body that won't die. Bits of his brain have gone. Literally. Even if the bones mend," Gary continued quietly, "all those memories and functions are gone. There's no coming back from it."
"What's going to happen to him?"
Magdalene gave me an indecipherable look before stepping up to Thomas. I thought she was going to kick him again. He obviously thought so too - he cringed.
He was right to.
She shoved him hard, sending him sprawling in the dirt and detritus, then punched down into his torso with all her considerable strength, through the burnt tatters of his clothes and the blistered skin and muscle.
Thomas tried to get away but he had no purchase and the second strike broke bone. Thomas moaned in pain and fear and confusion.
"Shut up, Thomas." She squeezed her hand into his chest and