The Iron Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page B

something
more than just the murder. I could see it in his eyes. He knew.
    The
girl hit me again. I felt no pain, just the impact against my shoulder, which
sent me down, gloved palms slamming into wet cement. If I were only human, she
might have broken something with that blow. Rain ran into my mouth and eyes. I
licked my lips.
    “Stop
asking questions,” hissed the girl, leaning near. “Or you’ll stop breathing.”
    I
turned my head and looked into her eyes. Beyond the girl, at the alley mouth,
cars passed in the pounding rain, headlights shining. Men and women appeared
fleetingly, walking fast with hands full of backpacks and umbrellas, heads
bowed. See no evil. Suffer none at all. Such a thin veneer, between
there and here. So easy to cast illusions. Especially when people were afraid
to see the truth.
    I
could see the truth in the girl’s eyes. She was scared, but serious. She would
hurt me if I did not walk away. She would make life difficult. Made me wonder
if something similar had happened to Badelt. I wondered, too, what she would do
to the boy for talking. What someone else would do.
    I
blinked, and the girl flashed her teeth. Then her knife. It was very small, not
much longer than her palm. Hardly a toothpick. She saw me studying the weapon
and smiled, like she had won.
    Inside
me, the sun. Going, almost gone. No time. Not for niceties. No time to be kind.
    I
grabbed the knife. Snatched a fistful of blade and it punctured my leather
glove. Steel scraped my tattooed palm and made a terrible sound. The knife
snapped. Hit the cement between us, but the rain drowned the clatter, and the
alley was dark.
    The girl
saw, though. She saw and stared, and I grabbed the back of her jacket, moving
fast, marching her to the mouth of the alley. She tried to fight me. Slammed my
ribs with her brass knuckles. Made an impact like a baby’s kiss. I dragged her
to the sidewalk and rain ran down my face. My skin hissed. Sunset. The sun.
    “Why
are you doing this?” I asked the girl harshly. “Who has you scared?”
    “Fuck
off,” she snarled, and grabbed my breast, fingers digging in and twisting. I
felt no pain, but it shocked me. It was a surprisingly dirty tactic for a kid
so young. Maybe one that had been used on her. The possibility made me sick.
    “I
can help you,” I said, but she spat on me, a big, fat goober on my jacket, and
that was it. No more time. “Fine. Walk away. Don’t look back.”
    She
hesitated longer than she should have. Something to lose, something driving
her. I wished I had time to ask. I wished I had a choice, but I could not stay
here and keep an eye on the boy. I could not risk the girl continuing to engage
me. Not now.
    I
squeezed my fingers until she cried out, and forced myself to hold on, making
certain she got the message.
    Be
more afraid of me.
    She
was. I saw the shift when it happened: in her eyes, in her mouth. Her whole
demeanor, small like a kitten in the jaws of a Rottweiler. Bitterness filled
me. I hated this. I hated it all. Monster, me. Scaring little girls, little
broken girls. All of us, lost little girls.
    I
loosened my fingers. The teen broke away without a word. She turned, walked
fast, and did not look back. Neither did I. I ran like hell, furious at myself.
Sick at heart.
    I did
not go far. I had burned that bridge thirty minutes ago by not returning to the
Mustang and sitting in the parking garage, twiddling my thumbs over a book or
talking to Grant on the phone, digging up dirt, putting our heads together. I
pushed. I waited too long. Now I was in public.
    It
was dark for sunset, unusually so, which was all I had in my favor. I slid
between the bumpers of two parked cars—a battered Volkswagen and muscular
SUV—and slumped on my hands and knees, the ends of my hair dipped in rainwater.
No streetlights in this section. No windows full of light. Only shadows—and me,
just one more shuddering body collapsed on a street full of them. I heard
people walk past. No one