Angry Lead Skies Read Free Page A

There’re these dark, bruise-looking patches down here, practically on the neck. Maybe they do the same job.”
    That was weird. I couldn’t think of a race that didn’t have ears of some kind. In fact, most races have ears that make our human ones look like afterthoughts. Great hairy, pointy, or dangly things all covered with scales and warts.
    “Old Bones, you’ve got to help us out here. Why can’t Play draw what he really saw?”
    Grumpy atmospherics. Kip squeaked. The Dead Man observed, Mr. Playmate appears to be reproducing what was actually in front of him rather than what he believes he saw. It is possible he was gulled by some illusion. The illustration does resemble the boy’s recollections of his elven acquaintances.
    “Wonderful. Play, I’ll bet Colonel Block wishes he had somebody who could draw pictures like this of the villains he wants to catch.”
    “The Guard can go on wishing. You know I’m a simple man, Garrett. Not greedy at all. But I do have to point out that a second-rate stable operator like myself still makes a better living than the best-paid honest policeman.”
    “Most everything pays better than being honest. You want to work for Block and Relway, you’d better have a bone-deep law and order calling. Now what?”
    Kip was making noises. He wasn’t as impressed with the sketch as I was. “The eyes aren’t right, Play.”
    “They wouldn’t be, would they?” Playmate growled. “Since whenever they look straight at you they go all smoky. And they aren’t eyes like ours, anyway. They don’t have any eyelids.”
    “It’s not that. It’s their shape. They’re bulgier...”
    Garrett!
    The kid jumped, squealed, went paper pale in an instant, scattered the documents on my desk. He moaned, “They’re here! They’re trying to get into my head again!” He tried to jump past Playmate.
    “Hang on to him!” I said. “That’s just old Chuckles deciding to pick on me for a minute.”
    Old Chuckles demurred. He sent, The young man is entirely correct, Garrett. There is an unknown creature in the alleyway out back trying to look into the house. I am confusing it and blocking it but that is extremely difficult. The work requires most of the attention of most of my minds.
    The Dead Man belongs to a rare species known as Loghyr. They have that knack. Of having multiple minds capable of parallel and independent function. I’ve heard that some develop multiple personalities. I can’t imagine. Old Bones is a complete horror show being just one of himself.
    Simultaneous shrieks sounded upstairs and in the small front room. I don’t know what Katie’s problem was but it was audibly obvious that the Goddamn Parrot had decided to focus his powers of persuasion on convincing the world that he was about as sane as a drunken butterfly.
    The creature is now confused by what I have done. Which is to connect it to a couple of marginally sensitive but completely empty minds. Perhaps it will become equally lost.
    “That’s no way to talk about my girlfriend.”
    The Dead Man was able to make the air sneer. And I suppose he had a point. Nature endowed Katie with countless delicious attributes. At first glance excessive intellect doesn’t appear to be one of those. But, actually, bimbo is a survival strategy that she has let get out of control.
    The kid began babbling soft nonsense not unlike that of yon inebriated megamouth. It sounded suspiciously like some of the nonsense Katie whispered when she was about half-asleep and purring. I asked Playmate, “Kip have a history with booze or drugs?” The kid was now not speaking any form of Karentine I recognized. My place isn’t the neighborhood ranting ground for any of those cults that specialize in speaking in tongues.
    Even so, soon every fourth word out of Kip’s mouth sounded vaguely familiar. They may even have been real words — completely out of context.
    “No. Never. He doesn’t have that kind of imagination. But this’s exactly the