Death is a Welcome Guest: Plague Times Trilogy 2 Read Online Free PDF

fucked on the bonnet of a car parked in a deserted street, both of them reckless. Not so reckless he had not rubbered-up though. They had produced a condom at the same time, both of them laughing to see the other so prepared. ‘Quick draw, McGraw,’ she had whispered in exotic Ulster tones. And then she had kissed him.
    Magnus got unsteadily to his feet. His legs had died at some point during his sleep, and he felt as if he were fresh from a night’s fishing, feet and knees skinkling at the firmness of solid ground. He looked back at the couple. The girl’s head lolled to one side and he caught an impression of blonde hair shining. The cough that had woken him rasped again, harsh and fox-like. The man spat on the ground and then started to busy himself with his fly. He shoved a knee between hers, pinning the girl against the wall, sliding between her legs. There was no ‘both’ or ‘together’. The man was alone with a human doll.
    ‘Fuck.’
    Magnus cursed his conscience and stretched a hand beneath the bin, searching again for the battery of his phone, but it was useless. The battery was dead and lost in ratty darkness. He looked towards the mouth of the alley, but the road beyond was silent. He was on his own. He stepped into the middle of the alley and walked towards the couple.
    ‘Excuse me, mate.’
    The man froze. He looked up and Magnus was reminded of the expression on the face of a cat interrupted in the act of dispatching a kill. He stepped closer and saw that the man’s hand was not on the girl’s arm, as he had supposed, but at the base of her throat. The girl’s eyes were slits, open and unseeing.
    ‘Like to watch, do you?’ the man asked.
    He was older than Magnus had thought, a craggy business-suited fifty, his white shirt unfastened at the neck.
    ‘Only if both parties know what they’re doing.’
    ‘How fucking politically correct of you.’ The man coughed again, his throat grating, metal on un-oiled metal, but the girl did not wake up. ‘Don’t worry,’ the man said, ‘she knows what she’s doing, this is the way she likes it.’ His voice was low and so assured that Magnus almost hesitated, but then the man said, ‘You can have next go if you want. She won’t mind.’
    ‘You’re a fucking rapist.’ Magnus took another step towards him.
    ‘Piss off, son. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’
    The man’s arm must have been growing tired with the strain of holding the girl up, or perhaps he wanted to use her as a shield, because he let her fall against him, her face on his shoulder, his arms clasped around the small of her back. The girl’s short skirt had ridden up and Magnus saw that her tights were shredded around her thighs, her underwear pushed to one side. She was wearing high-heeled yellow sandals and had painted her nails the same sunny colour.
    Magnus said, ‘Put her down and walk away.’
    ‘So you can finish what I started?’
    He had been wrong to think the man was sober, Magnus realised. He was drunk enough to have lost his inhibitions and lucid enough to carry through.
    ‘So I don’t kick your fucking head in.’
    ‘Like someone did to you?’ The man had shouldered the girl’s weight again. He walked slowly towards Magnus, keeping as close to the far wall as possible. ‘Don’t worry. We’re out of here.’
    ‘Where are you taking her?’
    ‘A nice warm bed.’ The man’s voice took on an apologetic tone. ‘You were right to interrupt us. We’d been drinking. Things got out of hand. You know how it can be when you drink too much. Don’t worry, she’s safe with me.’
    The man smiled. He was level with Magnus now, the girl still wrapped in his arms. It was easier to take the stranger at his word and let them go.
    ‘Okay.’ Magnus let out a deep breath and leaned against the wall of the alley, allowing the man a clear exit. Close to, the man’s suit looked expensive, his shoes well polished beneath their scuffs. The girl’s skirt and top