Read Online Hunter's Prayer by Lilith Saintcrow - Free Book Online

question a few kids, not to mention call Andy and … Christ, my dance card’s full. As per usual. “Just be careful, okay? This isn’t looking good.”
    “Be more than careful,” Saul piped up. “Be cautious. ”
    I glanced at him. He’d been extremely quiet since this morning, and while I appreciated his restraint—he more than other people understood how I felt about the sex trade—I still felt a little alarmed at how pale he’d been.
    But he probably didn’t want to talk in front of the cops, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.
    “Great.” Rosie waved her spoon. “Be cautious, Tonto says. Care to give any specific pointers, or will you just settle for being cryptic?”
    “Shooting our mouths off before we know precisely what’s going on will get us exactly nowhere,” I pointed out. “Don’t give Saul a hard time. He works for me, not for you.”
    “We all work for the taxpayers, baby,” Carp weighed in.
    Yeah. So do the hookers. I rolled my eyes, flicked a long, charm-weighted strand of hair back over my shoulder with a slight chime. “Eat up, boys and girls. There’s work to do today.”
    The abortion clinic on Quincoa was closed by the time we got there. I used the payphone on the corner to leave a message on Carp’s cell that we would try the doc tomorrow. Next we could either stop by the seminary or go to the Monde Nuit. I wanted to get the Monde out of the way first, and Saul just got that look again, so I drove. I left him in the Impala smoking a Charvil and staring at the building with narrowed eyes.
    I walked up to the door, fitting the silver over my right hand. It was technically a set of brass knuckles, but made out of alloyed silver with just enough true content to hurt anything damned but enough other metal to be twice as hard.
    The usual daylight bouncer was on duty, a massive guy with a tribal-tattooed neck; I nodded to him and strode past. My blue eye widened, taking in the flux of bruised hellbreed-tainted atmosphere.
    It was still daylight, never mind that the sun was fading fast; the Monde was almost deserted. One or two Traders were in there drinking whatever it is the damned drink, and Riverson was at the bar again; a couple janitors were cleaning everything up and waitstaff were getting ready for dusk.
    Perry was at a velvet-covered table in the back, three other hellbreed with him. They were playing what looked like a card game, and cigarette smoke fumed in the air. He didn’t even glance up at me, but the scar on my wrist ran with throbbing prickles, a hurtful bloom on the underside of my arm.
    I was glad it was covered.
    “Hey! Hey! ” Riverson yelled. I ignored him. There were a few musclebound idiots in the shadows, too far from the hellbreed to be any help; my pace had quickened. By the time I reached the table they were converging on me. Perry’s profile was supremely unconcerned, bent over his cards. A low murmur like flies above a corpse filled the air.
    Helletong, the speech of the damned. The ruby warmed against my throat on its silver chain.
    I kicked the chair out from under Perry and punched, catching him across the cheek and flinging him down and away. The next kick shattered the table; oversized cards, cigarettes, and a half-bottle of Glenlivet went flying.
    I reached down, grabbed Perry’s shirt, hauled him up left-handed, and punched him again. Blood flew, the silver armoring my fist would hurt him more than the force of the blow. I drew back, silver suddenly hot on my fingers, and did it again, dropped him, and kicked him twice. The gun left its holster left-handed, a feat I practiced long and hard to achieve in the dim first days of my training, and I set my feet on the floor, turning in a complete circle to see what I was up against.
    Seven of ‘em, not counting the goddamn breeds I just interrupted. Splendid.
    Perry coughed, and the sound of his laughter cut the air into a thousand wet, shivering pieces. “Sweet nothings,” he managed through a