Laws of Nature -2 by Christopher Golden (i can read books txt) 📕

sure isn't this guy's. I told him that, too. Asked him if he was such a good bud of yours why didn't he just go on in the front door. You're in there tendin' bar, right? I mean, what? He takes a look at me and thinks 'here's some bum from Southie with a peanut brain'? I'm not stupid, right? Guy's nosin' around about you. Thought you'd want to know."

"How long ago?"

Tim shrugged. "Five minutes, maybe."

With a frown, Bill glanced at the door to the alley. "Thanks, Tim. Don't mention this to Courtney, all right?"

"Yeah, all right. What are you gonna do?" Bill blinked in surprise and looked at him. "If the guy's still out there, I'm gonna toss his salad."

The cook rotated his head around a bit, stretching and popping the muscles in his neck and shoulders. "You want me to watch your back?"

"Thanks," Bill told him. "But I got it." He held out a hand to Tim. "I owe you, kid."

Tim shook his hand once, firmly, then let it go. "Naw, man. That's how we operate, that's all." Then he turned and forged his way back into the cooking area, shouting instructions, snapping at cooks who had slowed.

Bill strode to the back door, hesitated only a heartbeat, then slammed it open. It clanged against the brick wall and the sound echoed out into the darkened alley. There was a commotion off to his left. Grunting, someone hustled up a fire escape a couple of buildings down and across the alley.

The hot summer breeze brought the scent to him, the same one he had caught that morning. The narrow slice of sky visible between the buildings was filled with stars, but not enough to more than dimly illuminate the dark alley. All three of the lights that normally burned back there among the Dumpsters and garbage cans had burned out. Or been shattered.

Bill sprinted soundlessly down the alley. He reached the fire escape in seconds and leaped to grab hold of the iron grate of the first-floor landing. Effortlessly, he scrambled up onto the web of black iron. Bill did not bother with the stairs, but climbed hand over hand, scaling the outside of the three-story metal structure in seconds.

He leaped to the roof and landed in a crouch, sniffing the air. His heart pounded in his chest, eyes darting about for any sign of his prey in the deep shadows of the night.

His prey.

A tiny smile flickered at the edges of Bill's mouth and he began to change. The flesh all over his massive body rippled and stretched as hair spiked through it from beneath. He stretched with it, as though he had been cramped in his human skin, and at last Bill stood on the rooftop in his true form. A snarl escaped from him, and his black lips curled back from a snoutful of needle teeth. As a human, Bill was a big man, broad-shouldered and imposing.

As a Prowler, he knew he was monstrous.

The entire roof was drenched in the scent of the Prowlers who had been hanging around, watching for him, asking about him. Him and Courtney. The thought of her in danger galvanized him into action. His ears perked, and he heard movement off to the right, a couple of rooftops away.

He rushed across the roof, silent as a whisper.

Hunting. It felt good.

But at the end of the block, when he ran out of rooftop, he realized that they had eluded him. Quickly, he backtracked to the nearest fire escape and found the scent heavy there as well. They were gone. He could track them by their scent. Could change back and pursue them almost anywhere in the city.

He trotted back to the fire escape he had originally come up. There would be a confrontation soon enough. For now, Courtney was his first and only priority. If they wanted her, they might try to draw him away like this to get at her. Bill was not going to allow that.

Dubrowski sat in the driver's seat of the ancient Mercedes and ran a hand over the stubble on his shaved hand. Beside him, Braun kept trying to lean over and look out Dubrowski's window to get a view of the roof. Dubrowski smacked Braun for the fifth time, but knew the moron wouldn't get the message.

"Aw, Doobie, what the hell'd you do that for?"

Braun rubbed his cheek where Dubrowski had struck him and glared. But Dubrowski knew he would do nothing. Though the two of them were among a small handful of survivors from Tanzer's pack, Braun had been very low in the hierarchy - Dubrowski much higher. Braun knew who among them was the superior warrior.

But that knowledge did not make Braun any smarter. Once again, he leaned over. Dubrowski sighed and rolled his eyes, a low growl building in his throat. This time, that warning was enough to get Braun's attention.

"Did you see him up there, Doobie?" Braun asked. "I mean, I'm glad we got to the car before he hit the edge of the roof. If he'd seen us, I think he woulda just jumped on us. Cantwell's pretty pissed off, huh? He's a big one, too."

Dubrowski laughed. "He's rather large, yes, but don't concern yourself, Braun. Cantwell's a lap dog. Little more than a house pet. Dwyer and his sister probably paper-trained him. Whatever wild Cantwell had in him, I'd say it's been bred out. He's big, but he'll fall easy enough. We'll destroy him."

Braun laughed. "Exactly. That's exactly right, Doobie. Destroy him."

With a growl, Dubrowski backhanded Braun hard enough so that his head cracked the side window.

"Don't call me that."

CHAPTER 7

Saturday mornings at Travis Drug were usually pretty quiet. Truth be told, most mornings were pretty quiet. It was afternoons when Aaron Travis did most of his business.

Every Saturday morning he spent a couple of hours straightening up and putting his new shipment of periodicals on display. Usually he did so with constant chatter from