Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

see, the Sidhe don’t have souls, so they’re kind of . . . not really considered among the living, so . . . you may have some extra special powers over them, and they don’t like that.”
    Paul turned on him and demanded, “What kind of powers?”
    McGowan’s grimace remained. “We don’t know. Maybe none. But the Sidhe Courts, as a rule, don’t take any chances in such matters, so don’t assume anything.”
    “Well, at least the fucking Russians aren’t trying to kill me anymore.”
    McGowan added a frown to his grimace. “About that too. It’s really hard to bring a Primus caste over, even for me, but maybe not for a necromancer. So your very existence might make it possible.”
    Paul managed to get his voice down to a growl. “So everyone thinks I’m going to cause the destruction of civilization?”
    McGowan glanced at him apologetically. “I just wouldn’t assume there is anyone who isn’t out to kill you. Well . . . you can count on me and Colleen and Katherine and Clark. We’re on your side. That’s why we’re going to see Clark.”
    “Clark?”
    “Ya. Clark Devoe.”
    “Who?”
    “Gun shop owner. You met him when you came to his store. And then again the night you took out that Secundus. That was a nice piece of work, I might add. Earned you a few brownie points among my colleagues. That’s why some of them won’t . . . well . . . might not try to kill you.”
    McGowan pulled the car into a parking spot in front of South-Bay Guns and Ammo . Paul remembered the place from his one and only visit. It was still rather seedy, a simple, unassuming storefront with a neon sign. And it needed a coat of paint.
    McGowan pulled a briefcase out of the back seat, nodded toward Paul’s shopping bag containing his Sigs and said, “Grab your stuff, kid.”
    Paul followed him into the shop. It had only been a few months since he’d first wandered into the place and it hadn’t changed, a long row of glass display cases running down the right side with handguns displayed under glass, racks of rifles on the wall behind the cases. Along the left wall were racks of ammunition, clothing, holsters, cleaning kits, all sorts of paraphernalia.
    The plump female with frizzy, unkempt hair sat behind the counter toward the back. She wore another moo-moo, or maybe the same one, and was eating something out of a plastic refrigerator tub. “How ya doin’, Mr. McGowan,” she said around a mouth full of food. “Clark’s expecting you. Go on back.”
    Clark Devoe was waiting for them in the back room. He looked to be in his mid-sixties with shoulder length gray-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and three or four days of stubbly beard growth. Paul thought he might be wearing the same old army fatigue jacket and NRA cap he’d had on the first time Paul met him.
    “Mr. McGowan,” Devoe said, shaking McGowan’s hand.
    He turned to Paul, shook Paul’s hand in a hard grip and said, “Nice job you did on the vamp.” He looked down at Paul’s shopping bag. “Let’s see what you bought.”
    Paul upended the bag on a nearby workbench. Both Sigs were in their hinged, blue, plastic, factory cases. Devoe opened one, lifted the weapon, ratcheted the slide back, then quickly field stripped it, removing the slide and the barrel. He sighted carefully down the barrel. “This is good hardware, little expensive, but a good choice. And it looks like you’re cleaning it and oiling it properly.”
    Devoe went through the same process with the other Sig. Paul apparently passed muster on that one as well. The man questioned him a bit on his background as a child hunting with his father, was happy to hear he’d gone through a couple thousand rounds at a gun range to get the feel of the two weapons. Devoe wasn’t so pleased with the holster. “This is ok, but it could jam you up a little, slow you down in a pinch. Leave it with me for a few days and I’ll make some mods.”
    McGowan opened his briefcase,