Deep Fire Rising - v4 Read Online Free PDF Page A

walking stick was still more of an ornament than a necessity. “Jesus, you look like the main course at a vampire convention. When was the last time you saw some sun?”
    “I knew I should have gone on another diving trip rather than stay home and take your abuse—” Mercer paused. He heard a strange sound that seemed to be climbing the spiral staircase. A sort of click, click, shuffle, wheeze.
    The clicking stopped while the wheezing continued. It sounded like something had reached the top of the wooden stairs and was moving slowly across the carpet in the library. Mercer looked to Harry. Harry swiveled to look through the French doors that separated the bar from the reading room.
    “Come on, boy,” he rasped. “It’s okay.”
    A moment later, Mercer’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”
    “A dog, for Christ’s sake. What do you think it is?”
    “If I had to guess I’d say an overstuffed sausage.”
    The basset hound seemed to understand he was the center of attention. His tail gave a feeble wag before drooping back to the floor. He was as long and round as an old canister vacuum cleaner and so bowlegged his belly rubbed the floor. His frayed ears dragged like neglected laundry as he tottered into the room. The old hound’s bloodshot eyes complemented the gray fur on his muzzle and the silver string of drool coming from his slack lips. Mercer put the dog’s age somewhere between fifteen and fifty. “They say that people look like their pets, Harry. That poor thing’s gonna have to get a lot uglier if you two are gonna be twins. Where did you get him?”
    “He was rooting in the Dumpster behind Tiny’s.” Tiny’s was a neighborhood bar run by a former jockey, Paul Gordon. Harry was as much a fixture there as the horse-racing pictures on the walls. “No tags, no collar. Tiny wanted to call the Humane Society, but I figured no one was going to adopt him so I took him home. That was just after you left for Canada.”
    “My God. A kind gesture. From you?”
    “Up yours,” Harry growled, but couldn’t hide his self-satisfaction.
    “Have you named him?” The dog heaved himself onto one of the leather sofas.
    “ ’Cause the damned thing never wants to go for a walk, I call him Drag.”
    The basset heard his name, let loose a long bawl and collapsed in exhaustion. He was snoring in an instant.
    Mercer smiled. Harry had spent a great many nights passed out on the very same couch. “You two are more alike than I first realized.”
    “At least I still have my balls.”
    “Even if you don’t need them,” Mercer teased.
    Harry downed the last of his drink and lit a fresh cigarette. “Viagra, baby. Viagra.”
    Shuddering at the image that conjured, Mercer mixed Harry another whiskey. Mercer had been awake for less than an hour, but with nothing to do for the next five days, he poured himself a vodka gimlet and turned on the commercial air purifier. The cigarette smoke was already becoming a noxious cloud.
    “You sure you don’t want to go diving or something?”
    “I’m sticking around,” Mercer replied cautiously. Harry’s tone put him on alert.
    “In that case, I guess I have to invite you to the party I’m throwing here on Saturday.”
    “Mighty nice of you.”
    “Don’t mention it,” Harry demurred. “Least I can do.”
    An hour later, Harry was on his fourth drink and Mercer his second when Harry hauled himself to his feet. “If I’ve got to pump ship, I’m sure Drag does too.” He had the dog’s leash in his jacket pocket. He clipped it to Drag’s collar and tugged gently to wake him. The basset snored on. “Come on, you mangy beast.”
    Drag’s skin twitched like a horse shooing flies and he woofed in annoyance. It took Harry a minute to coax him down the stairs. Mercer went to the library balcony to watch the tug-of-war. True to his name, Drag slid onto his belly when he reached the tiled foyer, forcing Harry to pull him by his leash until he realized stubbornness