No Sorrow Like Separation (The Commander Book 5) by Randall Farmer Page B
Authors: Randall Farmer
Ads: Link
into immense long-term projects. Such a skill might prove useful as well.
Later, Keaton did take me out to work on my tagged Transform issues. Gilgamesh suggested one of the locals, Focus Gladchuck, as the target. She had humiliated him recently, I remembered from his stories. He too knew how to carry a grudge, which brought a big smile to my face. For his suggestion he got to go with us, Keaton using the situation to give him some real-world practice using his panic to improve the aiming of his sick-ups and rotten egg tricks. I, of course, got to play target.
I didn’t learn to keep control over myself while in range of a tagged Transform until just after sunrise. By then I had made enough mistakes and Keaton or Gilgamesh had stopped enough of my berserk charges on Gladchuck’s household that the place was a twitchy armed camp.
When we finished Keaton dumped a couple thousand in twenties into a satchel, wrote a note and tossed the whole mess inside Gladchuck’s perimeter. “Ma’am, may I ask why?” I said.
“Saves me the bother of writing yet another formal apology letter,” Keaton said.
I didn’t pretend to understand.
---
The next night we hunted, ‘we’ being all three of us. I expected some panic out of Gilgamesh, but he seemed fine with this. It took me nearly an hour to figure out Keaton had been using him to track down untagged Transforms during my recovery. Cheater! Cheater! After I figured out Keaton’s game I suffered through a long case of the giggles, which neither Gilgamesh nor Keaton appreciated.
“Turn left at the next light,” Gilgamesh said, hidden in the back seat. He was getting better at his hiding in plain sight trick. This wasn’t the same trick Officer Canon had used in our confrontation or that Rumor used when he hid from me in plain sight. This was more like Rumor’s normal state. Gilgamesh was growing up fast around us Arms.
“Your target’s in the third small house down at the end of the next left.”
I tagged myself for self-control, figuring I would need it. Keaton parked her car when Gilgamesh said we were just over a quarter mile away from the target. “Let’s go,” she said. To my shock, the kill appeared in my metasense after just a few steps. Magic.
Magic filled my life. Oh, and dogs running away. Ocean smells, too.
Gilgamesh stayed behind. “He’ll join us in a bit,” Keaton said.
My instincts told me this was about to be a disaster. Wasn’t there some kind of problem when Keaton came with me on my hunt? Or had she fixed that? She seemed confident enough and so I shrugged and let my worries go.
I led Keaton into the back yard of a suburban ranch house, sneaking along as best as possible. I wished Keaton would be quieter, though, a bad omen. When we got to the back door, I tapped on the handle and deadbolt with my fingernails. Locked, I heard. Keaton had supplied me with lock picks and I opened the locks without a problem. The prey sat alone in the living room, after a sleepless night. I smelled a woman and one child, but they weren’t home now. He wore shorts, slippers, and handgun. Normally, handguns weren’t a standard male fashion accessory, at least as far as I remembered. He studied the gun intently when I entered, perhaps wondering what might have been wrong with it. I could have told him his weapon was in perfect working order and recommended a holster, a more common male fashion accessory. Poor guy, so close to withdrawal. He had to be in pain. Keaton cleared her throat behind me, probably wondering what I was doing. The man raised his gun and fired at me, but I saw when he tightened his finger on the trigger and I made myself be somewhere else when the bullet went by. I took the gun from his hand. Weapons fire was a bad omen, my instincts said.
“I think you need to die, sir. Before withdrawal.”
He nodded, and then anger filled his eyes.
Later, Keaton did take me out to work on my tagged Transform issues. Gilgamesh suggested one of the locals, Focus Gladchuck, as the target. She had humiliated him recently, I remembered from his stories. He too knew how to carry a grudge, which brought a big smile to my face. For his suggestion he got to go with us, Keaton using the situation to give him some real-world practice using his panic to improve the aiming of his sick-ups and rotten egg tricks. I, of course, got to play target.
I didn’t learn to keep control over myself while in range of a tagged Transform until just after sunrise. By then I had made enough mistakes and Keaton or Gilgamesh had stopped enough of my berserk charges on Gladchuck’s household that the place was a twitchy armed camp.
When we finished Keaton dumped a couple thousand in twenties into a satchel, wrote a note and tossed the whole mess inside Gladchuck’s perimeter. “Ma’am, may I ask why?” I said.
“Saves me the bother of writing yet another formal apology letter,” Keaton said.
I didn’t pretend to understand.
---
The next night we hunted, ‘we’ being all three of us. I expected some panic out of Gilgamesh, but he seemed fine with this. It took me nearly an hour to figure out Keaton had been using him to track down untagged Transforms during my recovery. Cheater! Cheater! After I figured out Keaton’s game I suffered through a long case of the giggles, which neither Gilgamesh nor Keaton appreciated.
“Turn left at the next light,” Gilgamesh said, hidden in the back seat. He was getting better at his hiding in plain sight trick. This wasn’t the same trick Officer Canon had used in our confrontation or that Rumor used when he hid from me in plain sight. This was more like Rumor’s normal state. Gilgamesh was growing up fast around us Arms.
“Your target’s in the third small house down at the end of the next left.”
I tagged myself for self-control, figuring I would need it. Keaton parked her car when Gilgamesh said we were just over a quarter mile away from the target. “Let’s go,” she said. To my shock, the kill appeared in my metasense after just a few steps. Magic.
Magic filled my life. Oh, and dogs running away. Ocean smells, too.
Gilgamesh stayed behind. “He’ll join us in a bit,” Keaton said.
My instincts told me this was about to be a disaster. Wasn’t there some kind of problem when Keaton came with me on my hunt? Or had she fixed that? She seemed confident enough and so I shrugged and let my worries go.
I led Keaton into the back yard of a suburban ranch house, sneaking along as best as possible. I wished Keaton would be quieter, though, a bad omen. When we got to the back door, I tapped on the handle and deadbolt with my fingernails. Locked, I heard. Keaton had supplied me with lock picks and I opened the locks without a problem. The prey sat alone in the living room, after a sleepless night. I smelled a woman and one child, but they weren’t home now. He wore shorts, slippers, and handgun. Normally, handguns weren’t a standard male fashion accessory, at least as far as I remembered. He studied the gun intently when I entered, perhaps wondering what might have been wrong with it. I could have told him his weapon was in perfect working order and recommended a holster, a more common male fashion accessory. Poor guy, so close to withdrawal. He had to be in pain. Keaton cleared her throat behind me, probably wondering what I was doing. The man raised his gun and fired at me, but I saw when he tightened his finger on the trigger and I made myself be somewhere else when the bullet went by. I took the gun from his hand. Weapons fire was a bad omen, my instincts said.
“I think you need to die, sir. Before withdrawal.”
He nodded, and then anger filled his eyes.
Similar Books
