the desiccated corpses daintily, and sprawled onto
the bed.
"I don't have time for games,"
Cane said firmly. "You might have seduced my grandfather with these
games, but they won't work on me. I called you here to fix a
problem, nothing else."
Grace smiled. It was a
barracuda's smile, all sharp teeth and cunning. "And what makes you
think that it's my kind of problem?"
"Because the guy's a freaking ghost," said Cane scornfully,
hating the words even as they came from his mouth. "Because he does
things that no - one should be able
to do. And... because of Adam."
Grace laughed. Cane tried to
ignore that the mirrors in the room glazed with ice as she did so,
or that the hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck were
standing on end. Some part of him, some very old part of his brain
that understood what a predator was, the part that woke up in the
middle of the night sometimes, was telling him to run.
"Ah yes, your brother. Your
poor, dead, brother. Well, you're not the first King to think that
he could solve all of his problems by killing their brothers and
sisters."
"I don't want a history
lesson," said King.
Grace sat up on the bed. "But
that's what this is all about Cane, that's what you have to grasp.
This is bigger than you and Adam. What's happening here started
generations ago. You're just the next in line."
Cane turned away. "No. Adam
bought into all this occult nonsense, that was his thing. The
family, the bloodline. He was obsessed with it. That's not me."
"So why did you kill him?"
"Because of that fucking
woman!" Cane snapped, smashing his fist into one of the frosted
mirrors. "Her and her fucking kid! Do you know what that could have
done to us? To the business, to our future, to... to..."
"To the bloodline?"
Grace raised an eyebrow and
another icy smile spread across her face like a frost. Spirals of
strange symbols danced up her neck and flourished on her face,
making her look even more unreal than normal. She watched as King
nursed his bloodied knuckles. The fire was there, she thought, the
fire that made a real King. It just needed to be fuelled. He needed
to burn.
"I'm not taking this family
back to the dark ages," King said firmly. "I don't deny what you
can do, but I want no part of it. I'm dragging this family into the
21st century by its balls. Just do this one thing for me, take care
of this guy, and then we are done. Name your price, whatever it
takes, but then we are done."
"You know my price, Cane,"
Grace said seductively, "And you're not getting any younger. It's
past time you fathered an heir."
Grace's hands slid across
Cane's shoulders, moving like ice cold worms on his flesh. He
shuddered involuntarily.
"How do we catch him?" he
asked, his voice hushed.
"With bait," whispered Grace in
Cane's ear. "With something he can't resist."
ASHES
There should have been rain.
That was the only thought that Rosa Blind could muster as she
watched the coffin slowly descend into the ground. Instead, there
was an unseasonable heat that made everyone uncomfortable in their
dress uniforms, that scorched the grass and made the ground hard
underfoot. She was sweating, she hated sweating. There were no
tears behind her sunglasses as her fellow officers lined up one by
one to scatter dry earth on the coffin, just inexorable
calculations of her machine-like mind. The result? There definitely
should have been rain.
Rosa hated the cemetery, jammed
in behind one of the city's remaining churches. She had thought
they were lucky to find a plot, until she found out that the church
kept a special allocation for police. What the hell kind of town
was this, she'd wondered, where even in death the police needed to
keep a low profile?
Low profile, that was the exact opposite of what they were
supposed to be. The incorruptible super - cops, dropped
into failing police departments all over the country, all part of
the presidents "Clean up America" campaign. It was ridiculous. A
cowboy policy for a cowboy
the bed.
"I don't have time for games,"
Cane said firmly. "You might have seduced my grandfather with these
games, but they won't work on me. I called you here to fix a
problem, nothing else."
Grace smiled. It was a
barracuda's smile, all sharp teeth and cunning. "And what makes you
think that it's my kind of problem?"
"Because the guy's a freaking ghost," said Cane scornfully,
hating the words even as they came from his mouth. "Because he does
things that no - one should be able
to do. And... because of Adam."
Grace laughed. Cane tried to
ignore that the mirrors in the room glazed with ice as she did so,
or that the hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck were
standing on end. Some part of him, some very old part of his brain
that understood what a predator was, the part that woke up in the
middle of the night sometimes, was telling him to run.
"Ah yes, your brother. Your
poor, dead, brother. Well, you're not the first King to think that
he could solve all of his problems by killing their brothers and
sisters."
"I don't want a history
lesson," said King.
Grace sat up on the bed. "But
that's what this is all about Cane, that's what you have to grasp.
This is bigger than you and Adam. What's happening here started
generations ago. You're just the next in line."
Cane turned away. "No. Adam
bought into all this occult nonsense, that was his thing. The
family, the bloodline. He was obsessed with it. That's not me."
"So why did you kill him?"
"Because of that fucking
woman!" Cane snapped, smashing his fist into one of the frosted
mirrors. "Her and her fucking kid! Do you know what that could have
done to us? To the business, to our future, to... to..."
"To the bloodline?"
Grace raised an eyebrow and
another icy smile spread across her face like a frost. Spirals of
strange symbols danced up her neck and flourished on her face,
making her look even more unreal than normal. She watched as King
nursed his bloodied knuckles. The fire was there, she thought, the
fire that made a real King. It just needed to be fuelled. He needed
to burn.
"I'm not taking this family
back to the dark ages," King said firmly. "I don't deny what you
can do, but I want no part of it. I'm dragging this family into the
21st century by its balls. Just do this one thing for me, take care
of this guy, and then we are done. Name your price, whatever it
takes, but then we are done."
"You know my price, Cane,"
Grace said seductively, "And you're not getting any younger. It's
past time you fathered an heir."
Grace's hands slid across
Cane's shoulders, moving like ice cold worms on his flesh. He
shuddered involuntarily.
"How do we catch him?" he
asked, his voice hushed.
"With bait," whispered Grace in
Cane's ear. "With something he can't resist."
ASHES
There should have been rain.
That was the only thought that Rosa Blind could muster as she
watched the coffin slowly descend into the ground. Instead, there
was an unseasonable heat that made everyone uncomfortable in their
dress uniforms, that scorched the grass and made the ground hard
underfoot. She was sweating, she hated sweating. There were no
tears behind her sunglasses as her fellow officers lined up one by
one to scatter dry earth on the coffin, just inexorable
calculations of her machine-like mind. The result? There definitely
should have been rain.
Rosa hated the cemetery, jammed
in behind one of the city's remaining churches. She had thought
they were lucky to find a plot, until she found out that the church
kept a special allocation for police. What the hell kind of town
was this, she'd wondered, where even in death the police needed to
keep a low profile?
Low profile, that was the exact opposite of what they were
supposed to be. The incorruptible super - cops, dropped
into failing police departments all over the country, all part of
the presidents "Clean up America" campaign. It was ridiculous. A
cowboy policy for a cowboy
Similar Books
