Titan Song by Dan Stout (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📕

His eyes were wide and his mandibles hung limply. Behind me came a sickly thump, as the dead teenager lost whatever unnatural animation had motivated him, and toppled over. Jax racked the slide, ejected the round, and set the shotgun back into the trunk of the patrol car. Then he leaned against the rear bumper and stared at the boy’s corpse.

I didn’t drop my weapon. We’d already witnessed corpses striking out at the living, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. I was still standing at the ready when wailing sirens drew closer and flashing lights bathed our profiles in alternating shades of red and blue as Klare circled the scene, her camera click-clicking like beetle legs on cobblestone streets.

18

THE FRESHLY ARRIVED PATROL OFFICERS cordoned off the scene, and before long an ARC team was circling Brandon’s transformed body, waving their hands and muttering to themselves. Across the street, Klare was working the crowd, getting more snapshots. Her partner was nowhere to be found. That made me worry that Glouchester was skulking around my crime scene.

I chewed my lip and scanned the crowd. A slim Mollenkampi man in slacks and a dress shirt stood near the kid’s corpse. He looked familiar, and the way the ARC teams deferred to him made it clear that he was someone important. I realized that I didn’t see Ajax, either. I started for the hardware store entrance, hoping to find him inside, when someone called my name.

Harris, the DO from the Bobby Kearn case, waved an arm in my direction. The black fabric of his cloak rippled, its glyphs shimmering in and out of sight and making him seem more mirage than man. I considered ignoring him and going about my business, but he called again.

“Captain wants to see you.” And he beckoned for me to follow.

I sighed and followed Harris past other black-robed figures. Some of them acknowledged me, others turned frosty shoulders my way. It was hard to say what I’d done to piss them off. Not for a lack of reasons, but for the wide variety to choose from.

“This is quite the mess,” Harris said, indicating the now-motionless jaws exposed in the belly of the teenager. Brandon had been as unnaturally transformed as Saul Petrevisch’s and Bobby Kearn’s bodies had been. I squinted, wondering at the similarity between the newly emerged jaws and the vertical separation that had appeared on Saul’s head. Why had Saul attacked me, but Brandon chased down Alto in the patrol car?

“This way.” Harris guided me to the far side of the beetle, where another tech team crawled through the crunched panels of the patrol car, documenting the death of the man who’d killed the teen inside, before being killed by the same teen outside. I paused, leaning past a tech to swing a hand near Alto’s body. My fingers caught in the air near his face, threads of manna acting like an invisible fly strip. I swallowed with some difficulty. The old man said Brandon had some kind of ointment cure-all. It must’ve been cut with a little black-market manna to give the liquid a bite and boost the price. It must’ve been on his handkerchief, the one I hadn’t wanted to touch. If I’d only gotten over myself and touched the thing, I’d have sensed the threads and kept it from him. If I had, maybe he’d still be alive.

“Don’t let’s dawdle, now,” said Harris. “Shouldn’t keep the big man waiting.”

I eyed Harris’s cloak, and the black biker boots peeking out beneath the hem. “You’ve got a strong accent, from pretty far south. How’d you end up here?”

His grin flashed wide. “Romance! It’s the edge of the world, hey? Besides, if you grow up where I did, you can head to one of the coastal cities, or north. And nothing’s more north than Titanshade.”

“You didn’t opt for the coast?”

“Scared of sharks.” Harris’s toothy grin widened, then he let loose with a full-throated howl of amusement, a disturbing sound at a murder scene.

We came to a stop in front of the small Mollenkampi in civilian dress. Up close, I spotted the badge riding on his belt. His slacks were strangely bunched around the hips, and his shirt was slightly puffed out. I also realized why he was familiar—he was the plainclothes sorcerer who’d shown up at the Saul Petrevisch crime scene.

“Detective Carter,” said Harris, “meet Captain Auberjois.” The smaller Mollenkampi nodded a greeting, fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on his lower tusks. We stood there for a moment, Harris and I staring at the captain, the captain staring at the corpse.

The Arcane Regulation and Containment teams were a new creation, which meant Auberjois had unexpectedly shot to the rank of captain. I wondered if he’d obtained the position by brownnosing, hard work, or having an influential relative. Whatever the secret of his success, I had better things to do than stand around in silence.

“Okay then,” I said. “I’m going back to work. There’s a cop named Stevens around here somewhere. If you need me, just let him know.”

Auberjois finally turned his attention to me.

“You seem to show up at the most interesting events,” he said.

“Comes with the town,” I said. “Titanshade’s the kind of place where interesting things get you killed.”

His eyes crinkled. “My job is to examine exceptionally interesting events in order to identify patterns. And you are a pattern.” He regarded me with careful consideration, the kind of look he’d probably give a puzzle piece that didn’t quite match the shapes or sizes of the gaps he was trying to fill. “Some people say you’re in tight with Paulus.”

“Is that a fact?”

“They say you fought with her at that Titan’s Day fiasco. They say you took down her political enemies.” He spoke leisurely, watching my body language like a card player. “And take her employees out to dinner.”

My gut clenched like I’d just been sucker-punched. Someone must have seen Gellica and me out together. That put both of us