Lifeblood Read Free

and cheap shots were actively encouraged, and the action more often resembled a high-altitude riot than a game.
    Bracket began to ascend the staircase, a spring in his step. Jonathan took a deep breath and slipped quietly after him. As they climbed, the gamblers beneath them became smaller and smaller, while the sound of their screams and shouts dimmed. Jonathan hurried to catch up with the conman. There was no point in hiding now. As Jonathan drew closer, he heard Bracket humming a jaunty tune to himself. Unlike Jonathan, he didn’t know that one of the Plummet players that evening was waiting for him. Lorcan Bracket was walking straight into a trap.
    As the two of them emerged at the top of the staircase, Bracket glanced at Jonathan, and raised a lofty eyebrow at his bloodstained appearance.
    â€œThis is a game for men, you know. I’d run along if I were you.”
    â€œI’ll take my chances,” Jonathan replied.
    â€œIf you get in my way, you’ll be the first going over the edge. Don’t expect any sympathy from me.”
    As Bracket spoke the platform came into view, steam pumping from the motor as it clattered along the track in the ceiling. It slowed as it moved past the staircase, giving Bracket and Jonathan the chance to jump aboard. The cables gave a slight shudder as they absorbed the extra weight of the two new players.
    Judging by the coins stacked up on the playing cloth, this game of Plummet was well underway. Through a haze of cigar smoke, Jonathan could make out a shabby figure at the far end of the table, absentmindedly scratching his cheek with a long nail as he perused his cards. A battered stovepipe hat was rammed far down over his head, bearing the scars of years of maltreatment. His stubbled, craggy face was deep in thought. The other three players had pulled their chairs round to the other side of the table, and were watching the shabby figure fearfully. After a long pause, the dealer cleared his throat delicately.
    â€œYour move,” he said.
    Elias Carnegie, private detective, wereman, and Jonathan’s ally, yawned. “This is a crucial part of the game, Jak, and I don’t like being rushed. Unless you want to end up like Wilson did half an hour ago, I’d give me a little more time. They’re still scraping him off the floor.”
    The wereman grinned menacingly as he caught sight of the new player sitting stiffly down at the table.
    â€œWell, well, well! Lorcan Bracket! I had a feeling I might see you tonight.”
    The conman inclined his neck by way of acknowledgement. “It’s no secret that this game is a favourite of mine.”
    â€œEven so. . .” Carnegie leant forward confidentially. “It’s a stroke of luck, because I need to talk to you about something.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYou see, you took something recently that wasn’t yours, and the owner asked me to get it back. And now here you are, all alone, with nowhere to hide! I’d call it a coincidence, but I don’t believe in them.”
    A sneer broke out on Bracket’s face. “Neither do I, wolfman. I heard you were looking for me. I thought it might be best to deal with you up here.”
    He nodded at the other three players, whose nervous expressions suddenly vanished. They rose as one, drawing coshes from their belts. Bracket pressed a button on his cane, and a sharp blade came shooting out from the tip. Anticipating trouble, the dealer dropped his cards and dived underneath the table. Jonathan gasped. It seemed they hadn’t been the only ones setting a trap.
    As the men advanced on Carnegie, the detective bowed his head. A low growling sound rumbled from the back of his throat. Jonathan took a fearful step back: he knew what was about to happen. Now everyone on the platform was in deep trouble, including him. Carnegie’s entire body began to shake violently, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. Even underneath