‘An ice-gun!’ February spat. ‘Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing, though not much.’
Even Kitty knew about the ice-gun. She had seen a network special on it and that, of course, was part of the problem. It was a pretty useless Herbaht invention. A freezer in the gun froze small droplets of water into deadly spikes of ice that could actually kill without a trace. At least, that was the intent. The freezer caused the gun to jam if it wasn’t defrosted regularly, and that meant daily. The needles of ice were so weak that you needed to be standing right next to your victim with the ice-gun touching his or her body for a needle to even have a chance of penetrating. A knife was more reliable and had the same range. Its main value had been as a terror weapon, because it was exotic and appeared to be a lot more dangerous than it was. However, thanks to the network special, even the herd were now well aware that these weapons were as good as useless.
February looked spitefully at the thing before pocketing it. ‘Thank you,’ she told Stenhas, ‘perhaps I can even get it to work properly.’
Stenhas laughed and then pulled out his wallet. ‘How much do you think you need?’ He seemed to struggle to open his wallet properly, but his one hand moved quite dexterously, considering. It held the wallet and counted the notes before pulling them out and handing them to February. He had definitely compensated for his lost arm. ‘I hope that’ll be enough.’
February thought it would be more than enough.
‘I feel your warning is worth a lot more,’ Stenhas piped in suddenly. ‘Besides, you were always one of my favorites. Remember that spray stuff I said I had in my office? Before you leave I’ll make sure you have a couple of cans with you. I warn you, it’s not perfect. You’ll have to cover yourself with it, and it only lasts for about a day, if that. The next version should require a lot less spraying for longer effect, but we work with what we have.’
‘The anti-sniffer dog spray?’ February commented redundantly. ‘That’d be nice, but I’d prefer the better stuff.’
‘Wouldn’t we all, dear,’ Stenhas replied, shrugging, ‘but we have what we have. Perhaps the new stuff will be available next month. That’s if we’re still here.’
Kitty missed the next part of the conversation as her attention was pulled back to the setup in the center of the room. She really didn’t want to be here when the food was brought out. How long would it take to get everything they had come for? How long was February going to talk to this tom?
Her attention was caught by February shortly after. ‘If we can be out of here by seven, we will have time to get you some clothing tonight. It seems silly to come back tomorrow if we can do it all tonight.’
‘Shops close at eight to eight thirty. The mall is open until ten, though,’ Stenhas put in.
‘Ten?’ said February, turning back to him. ‘They made it later? Well, we have plenty of time then; most of the good clothes shops are in the mall.’
‘The mall closes at ten because of the big department store in there. Most of the little shops are forced to close earlier than that. It seems the mall security doesn’t want to pay enough officers for the whole mall, but they aren’t big enough to tell the department store what to do. Last I heard, many of the smaller stores would like to stay open that late but the mall won’t let them.’
‘That’s silly,’ February said.
‘Don’t tell me,’ Stenhas agreed.
‘We’re losing time,’ Kitty insisted suddenly; she wanted to be away before the food was brought out. She wondered how long it took to cook a man. Well, they hadn’t gotten the meat all that long ago, so surely it had to be a while yet.
‘I’m sorry,’ February said to Stenhas, ‘but she’s right; we need to get a move on if we’re going to get out of here by seven.’
He simply nodded and waved them away. ‘Go, have fun, and if I see you again before we’re both with the Goddess let’s hope it’ll be in better days.’
‘Absolutely,’ February replied, and she and Kitty headed away from him toward the small stall near the back of the theater, whose owner was currently sizing up another member for a wig.
10
Stalking Prey
Unlike many of the public houses in the area, the one Jhosatl was currently a customer of actually had staff: a barman and two serving maids. There was also the server machine that most public houses had in one form or another, but it was rarely used here. A server was little more than a glorified vending machine.
Because bar staff in a public house were considered archaic, the public house had turned itself into a theme pub of olde worlde charm. Of course, they had mixed things up a bit. Wagon wheels were stuck on the front of the bar, and on a lip above the bar were nailed a number of authentic-looking beer-mats advertising every beer the owners had been able to think of, and from every period throughout history. There were also posters all around the walls that seemed to cover the history of beer from the Middle Ages to the present day.
The place was crowded. There were a lot of tables, but more people than chairs. The saloon bar alone must have been making a roaring trade, and that was only one of three different bars in the place. Jhosatl, wearing the same makeup disguise that he wore on the stage, had been lucky to have gotten a stool by the bar itself. Especially lucky because it was more or less where he wanted to be.
He was lucky, but he wasn’t happy. The place stank, both of the masses of herd that had gathered there and of the smoke that some of the patrons were pouring into the atmosphere. The room was noisy. It seemed that everyone was talking, and there were simply too many people. He could hardly hear himself think and had had to shout just to make his order heard. No wonder a few people were still willing to use the server. Part of him wanted to leave and forget all about it. But Amba meant the world to him and over in the opposite corner of the saloon were four soldiers, the only trail he could follow to her: the four trainee Elite Guards who had called at their performance last night and taken her away with them. They were off duty and out of uniform, but he’d recognize those scents anywhere.
The four had chosen their table because it was slightly hidden behind the rail of a flight of steps leading to a higher floor. Those stairs actually led to a fourth bar that occupied the entire upper half of the public house. It was closed for now and was only opened up for special occasions, Christmas parties, marriage receptions and the like. You could get a drink up there at any time, but only from another server machine, and most people would rather wait in the queue to be served by a human.
‘I’ll have another, mate.’ He spoke the words deliberately to the barman. He’d only had one so far, but already he could feel his words slurring a little. He wasn’t used to alcohol. He emphasized each word in an attempt to show that he wasn’t slurring, but only made it more obvious that he was.
The fact that smoking was allowed in one small part of the public house had been a shock. They might be far enough away for the herd, secluded as they were in a small section of the saloon bar. To Jhosatl, though, they might as well have been sitting next to him. The smoke stank, and he was sure not everything being smoked was legal.
The barman looked at him uncertainly, weighing how drunk he was. Then he started pouring him a fresh beer, placing it on the counter in front of him. Jhosatl thanked the man and pulled some money out of his pocket; he didn’t bother to count it before handing it over. The barman sorted out the amount he wanted and placed the rest on the counter in front of Jhosatl. Jhosatl didn’t look drunk, though his eyes did seem a little glazed, but they had looked like that when he had first entered the saloon bar, before he had even ordered his first pint. No, he didn’t look drunk; well, not too drunk; he looked more like a man who was brooding about something.
Jhosatl took the money and put it back in his pocket, not bothering to count what was left, or even looking at it. He sipped on his pint and then swung his stool round to look at the rest of the public house. At least, he intended to, but his eyes became fixed on the four in the corn
er again.
Every time he looked towards the four soldiers, they seemed to be laughing. He couldn’t help but wonder what they might be saying. Then someone put some money into the jukebox and the racket in the saloon bar increased tenfold. Suddenly five holographic figures appeared in the room. They filled the few empty spaces between the customers and stayed put for the duration of the song, ignoring anyone who walked through them. The five figures were singing and playing instruments: a famous band of musicians, a group that had managed to hit the big time. They were a lot better known than Jhosatl and his group. In a less crowded pub they might easily have been the center of attention, but now they were more a nuisance than anything, as the noise was so great that even the most ardent conversationalists had to stop while the song played through.
When the song reached the last few notes, one of the soldiers looked in his direction and saw him and waved. Jhosatl muttered to himself. He must’ve been recognized from last night. He raised his pint in a sort of salute to the soldier and then took another sip. So much for staying out of sight!
Actually he wanted to spit at them, but he couldn’t believe the barman would allow that. The soldiers definitely wouldn’t be happy about it. Instead he turned back to the counter and buried his head in his beer. He then seemed surprised when he found he had emptied it.
Just one night away from his wife had been agony enough. One night away and he was ready to tear his hair out. Now he was ready to kill anyone who got in his way of getting her back. Or was that the beer talking? Just three pints—no, he had lost count; it was only two pints—and he was already feeling the effects.
Part of him wanted to order another, but he thought better of it. He couldn’t afford to get even more drunk, especially as he knew he had been slurring after just one. There was no telling what another might do to him. He sighed and turned once more to see what the four soldiers were doing. They still sat there in the corner, chatting away and making no signs that they were finished yet. Indeed, in the time he had been in the saloon bar himself he hadn’t once seen them reorder drinks. The four were probably all as sober as when they had first entered.
Slowly a plan came to his slightly addled mind. He would wait outside where the air was that much freer of smoke and nowhere near as noisy. He would wait for the soldiers to leave and then follow them. Sooner or later they would split up, and when he was following just the one, he would pounce. There were a couple of small details that didn’t really occur to him as he thought out his plan. Firstly, virtually every visitor to the bar would leave by means other than walking, and secondly, he wasn’t really a match for even one Elite Guard, especially when he wanted to keep that Guard alive.
Getting off the stool was the first task. It appeared that someone had replaced the floor with something that looked identical to the original, but seemed to be made of foam rubber. It wasn’t really too bad. It was more a shock than anything, an effect of the beer he hadn’t been ready for. His legs apparently had slightly different ideas of where to step than he did.
The barman saw him start to leave and noticed that he was staggering. ‘You shouldn’t drive like that; would you like me to call a taxi for you?’
Jhosatl turned around, a little unsure the barman had called to him. He looked squarely at the barman through a light haze. He kept his voice as clear of slurring as he could manage. ‘It’s okay, mate. I’m walking.’
‘Oh no,’ the barman said, ‘you shouldn’t walk at this time of night. The cats like to watch places like this for anyone doing just that. I can supply you with a link if you’d prefer to call a friend to pick you up.’
Jhosatl pointed through the windows. ‘I’m just going to get some air. I’ll remain in view of these windows at all times. If I’m attacked you can do something about it. But I need to clear my head and get away from the noise.’
The barman looked where Jhosatl was pointing and nodded. Jhosatl had pointed at the forecourt of the public house, clearly visible through the windows that lined the wall adjacent to the exit. The forecourt was very well lit. People didn’t like parking in dark areas where cats might be lurking in wait for them; it was bad for business. So long as people felt safe getting to their car, then they would feel safe until they got home and had to make the dash from the car to their front door.
He wandered out of the public house, excusing himself to a couple chatting near the doorway. Here on the paving before the car park were two round, black metal tables, each large enough for six drinkers, but they weren’t being used at this time of night and the umbrellas that would usually grace the center of each had been taken down until morning.
He walked slowly across to the far side of the forecourt, weaving between a few parked cars, and sat on the concrete slope that marked the car park’s border. There was a black metal railing growing from the concrete, but he paid that no mind. From here he could clearly see his quarry.
He hadn’t bothered to look when he’d arrived, but with the four soldiers making no move to go anywhere, he had time to see a little of where he was. The public house was on the corner of two streets. Both streets were lit with high-powered streetlights and lined with shops, though all the shops were closed at this time of night. The public house itself was well illuminated, the light seeming to attract all manner of insects that buzzed about him in the most irritating way they could. The herd always felt safer when there were lights around them, especially when they were in large groups. It was most likely that those who left the public house would do so in groups for mutual protection, even though the car park was lit as clear as day.
Time passed; the night got darker and the music from the bar seemed to be getting louder. People entered and others left, always in groups. But the four soldiers remained. Occasionally one of the soldiers did get up to get another order or to use the facilities.
Jhosatl himself was in need of the facilities after a couple of hours. The fresh air had cleared his head a little, but more alcohol had worked its way into his system. The net result was that he felt a little more sober but still had to focus as he reentered the public house.
The smoke hit him hard as he re-entered; there was definitely something illegal being puffed on somewhere, and that might’ve made him a little groggier than just the beer. The fresh air had obviously done a world of good, but now he was back in the midst of all that smoke. He decided not to stay long. He’d just do what he had come to do and get back out on that concrete slope where he could keep his eye on the four soldiers.
The saloon bar of the public house seemed to get busier and busier as the night wore on. Jhosatl continued his vigil from the slope. The air was feeling a little chilly. Still, he’d rather watch from out here than suffer the smoke or the noise, especially if it was the smoke that was affecting his reasoning.
The smell of something familiar caught his attention. He looked around for the source and caught sight of another Herbaht resting on the unlit roof of the public house. She was very young, possibly no older than ten, and she was staring right at him. After a minute she put a hushing finger to her mouth and concentrated on someone who had just left the public house.
Jhosatl shook his head. There were too many people about to hunt here. She was obviously too young and couldn’t have had the experience to know better. Why was she alone? It was unusual for someone so young not to be supervised on her first hunt. Then again, it was unusual for a Herbaht to be found even slightly drunk on a concrete slope outside a public house.
She watched her prey carefully and Jhosatl watched her. Perhaps she did know what she was doing, because she didn’t pounce. Instead she headed across the rooftop, keeping pace with her prey. Evidently she wanted to get clear of the lights and the crowds before she struck. And the prey was walking away from the public house, across the lit forecourt, ignoring all the parked vehicles and heading out of the safety of the lit area.
She timed that well, he thought to himself as he watched both prey and predator, almost too well.
As she left the roof of the public house, two more figures appeared on it. They both looked at him as if thinking he was mad before they followed the first across the rooftops. One was male and one female, probably the parents out keeping an eye on their child during her first hunt. It seemed the little predator hadn’t been out alone after all.
Perhaps the whole thing was all a setup; it was too nicely timed. The prey was another Herbaht helping in training the young female. Maybe this hadn’t been her first hunt after all but just part of her training. Jhosatl had no daughters. He had no children, and he really didn’t feel like spending further brainpower on something that seemed so irrelevant to his own hunt.
He yawned. He was beginning to feel thirsty again; how long would he have to wait for the soldiers to finish?
Another half an hour or more later he caught another familiar scent on the air. This time it wasn’t Herbaht; it was herd, but it was a herd he knew. He couldn’t worry about it though, because it was at that moment that the soldiers got up from their table and started heading out of the building. In fact, they weren’t the only ones. The entire public house seemed to be emptying. The barman must have been closing up for the night.
He left the concrete slope, staggered a little at first and then started to follow the soldiers. The familiar scent seemed to be following him.
He turned to look for the source. ‘Judith,’ he whispered, louder than he had intended.
‘You saw me?’ Judith emerged from where she had been hiding, a small alley between the shop next to the public house and the shop next to that.
‘It’s dangerous to be out at this time of night, mate, especially hiding in the dark. What were you thinking?’ He noticed that he didn’t seem to be slurring much anymore. Well, he had been waiting for hours, and he hadn’t really drunk that many.
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