Death Blows: The Bloodhound Files-2 Read Free

literally sleep underwater—handy for those who neither breathe nor prune.

    “Comic books,” I say. “You don’t have—wait. I know this world has comic books; Dr. Pete showed me his collection once.”

    Eisfanger’s eyes go wide. Cassius doesn’t look surprised, but then he almost never does.

    “ Comic books?” Eisfanger repeats. He says it with more or less the same intonation you’d use for the phrase, Eat my own liver ?

    Cassius sighs. “I was afraid of that. The books Dr. Adams showed you were all pre-1956, correct?”

    “Uh—I guess so. Why?”

    “Because they’ve been illegal since then. Did this Flash exist prior to ’56?”

    “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

    “Then we’re dealing with cross-universe contamination.” Cassius studies me with cool, calculating eyes. “The killer may be from your world, Jace.”

    He lets that hang in the air a moment, knowing the impact it’ll make on me. “Go talk to Gretchen,” he says. “She could use a friend right now. Second bedroom on the left.”

    I’m thinking furiously as I leave. Does a killer from my world mean a possible way back for me? Why the hell would comic books be illegal? And what was Gretchen doing here in the first place?

    I knock on the door to the bedroom tentatively. “Gretch? It’s Jace.”

    “Come in.”

    I open the door. Gretchen sits on the edge of a massive canopy bed, her knees together, a box of tissues in her lap. Gretchen’s a pire, apparent age in her mid-thirties, attractive in an intense kind of way. She always wears her blond hair in a tight little bun, her makeup is immaculate, she speaks in an elegant British accent, and her wit is sharp enough to give a suit of armor paper cuts. I’ve compared her, more than once, to a predatory Mary Poppins.

    Right now her hair is a straggly mess. Tears have streaked her mascara. Despite that, her voice is strong, her smile firm. “Hello, Jace. I do hope you’re going to lend us a hand.”

    I sit down next to her. “Yeah, of course. What happened , Gretch?”

    “I—was paying a call on Mr. Aquitaine. He—”

    “Aquitaine? Is that—”

    “Yes. Saladin Aquitaine. He and I were to go out for dinner. There was no answer when I rang up, so I let myself in. I have a key. I discovered him just as you saw. I called David immediately.”

    I hadn’t even known Gretchen was seeing someone. “So you and he were . . . involved.”

    “We had an intimate relationship, yes. We’ve known each other for years, but only recently have we decided to . . . explore further options.”

    “Friends with benefits?”

    “Not exactly.” She turns to look at me, and a little of the grief she’s feeling forces its way to the surface. It doesn’t get far; she shoves it back under with a brittle smile. “I do apologize for not mentioning him, Jace. I’ve been doing intelligence work for so long I compartmentalize everything. Yes, Saladin and I were lovers, but that’s never been anything but casual for decades. About three months ago I came to a decision, and approached him with an offer. He agreed.”

    Her face stays calm and composed, but a single tear tracks its way through her ruined eyeliner and down her cheek. “I’m pregnant, Jace.”

    Pregnant. That’s a heavy word at any time, but for pires even more so. The old-school neckbiting method was made illegal long ago, which is good since the current human population is less than 1
    percent of the global total. The way pires procreate on this world is through magic; basically, both parents donate six months of their life for every year their child ages. At some point the spell that made the whole thing possible is canceled, and all three go back to being immortal—only the parents are now a decade or so older, while the kid is twenty-one.

    I have no idea what happens when one of the parents dies before the baby is born.

    I put my arm around her. “Gretchen, I’m—I don’t know what to say. I’m