Death Blows: The Bloodhound Files-2 Read Free Page B

him?”

    “Sharp silver object through the heart. See?” Eisfanger points to a small notch on the underside of one rib. “Chipped a piece off going in—wooden stake wouldn’t have done that. I’ll take a closer look once I’ve drained the voltage, but I’m betting I find traces of silver.”

    Cassius shakes his head. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to do this. Someone either from your world, or with access to its knowledge. Anyone that goes to this much trouble to send a message—and I think we can both agree that this is supposed to be a message—tends to want that message understood.”

    I sigh. “Unless they’re speaking their own private language that only the voices in their head understand.”

    “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cassius says. “I think there’s at least one person in this room who might be able to translate.”

    “It’s not me, is it?” asks Eisfanger. “I mean, I’m still working on that sandwich thing . . .”

    “Look, I’d love to help out,” I say. “But I just got a lead on Stoker, and that is who I’m here to catch. I have a contract that spells it all out, no pun intended.”

    “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Cassius says. “There’s a problem.”

    My stomach drops to somewhere around my knees. The contract I signed states that once I catch Stoker, I get to go home—but if my employers don’t want to honor it, what exactly are my options?
    Hire a good lawyer and hope I don’t die of old age while the case makes it way through the courts?

    Cassius sees the expression on my face—and looks away. “Cross-dimensional travel is difficult. In order to put you back where and when we removed you, conditions must be just right. The shaman we used to bring you here is now . . . unavailable.”

    “So? Use another one!”

    “We can do that. Unfortunately, it means that the passage of time becomes an issue. The original shaman can return you to your world within minutes of you having left it; a new one couldn’t. In fact, the opposite would be true—years would have passed since you left. Decades, most likely.”

    And now my sunken stomach is turning into a clenched, icy fist. “Like being in a coma, I guess. At least I’ll still have my youth—”

    “No. The spell would age you, as well. I’m sorry.”

    Right. They said they’d return me, but they didn’t specify the condition. “You know, my incentive to do my job is sort of going down the tubes here.”

    “Then let me rectify that. Aquitaine was well connected. There are certain favors I could call in if you were to locate his killer—favors that would eliminate the problem I just mentioned.”

    “The shaman would stop being unavailable, is what you’re saying.”

    Cassius at least has the grace to look uncomfortable. “This isn’t blackmail, Jace. The situation is what it is. Help me, and you help yourself. I promise I’ll do everything in my power—”

    “Save it. I’m on board.” I haul my gut back into place with one deep breath, and let the anger already simmering there thaw it out.

    So now I’ve got three people to find. A superheroobsessed killer, a rogue human terrorist . . . and the son-of-a-bitch who dragged me to this world in the first place. Unavailable? I need to have a little talk with him about the meaning of that word.

    Or the world that I go back to won’t be mine anymore.

    TWO

    First things first.

    I go through all the procedures that start every investigation: I talk to his neighbors, get in touch with his last few clients, ask the standard questions: Was there anyone who would want him dead, was he involved in illegal activities, did he have a gambling or drug problem? No to all of the above—though I do get a sense of what sort of person he was.

    “The thing about Sal Aquitaine,” a geologist named Gary Wyndham tells me over the phone, “is that he had this certain way of looking at the world. Some people thought he was