Read Online Hellraisers by Alexander Gordon Smith - Free Book Online

crowd. It didn’t take one of the guards long to pick her out, his eyes widening as he executed the perfect double take. She didn’t need much help looking like a patient, coughing violently as she was swept along with the tide. Another guard was standing at the end of the corridor, ushering everyone to the left. Pan used her crossbow to hold herself up, limping around the corner to see a big double door up ahead, splashed with sunlight. The sight of it almost brought tears to her eyes. Probably would have done if the heat of the fire hadn’t singed her tear ducts shut.
    There was a line of cops outside, beady eyes assessing everyone who left the building. Pan did her best to look the way normal people probably looked when they saw death, her face crumpling, her hand covering her eyes, her shoulders lurching like she had broken down into sobs. It wasn’t exactly an Oscar-worthy display but it must have done the trick because they waved her on toward a posse of waiting ambulances and first responders.
    Pan ducked between two trees at the side of the road, hopping over a low metal fence onto the street beyond. There was a rustle of leaves and Herc appeared, trying to maneuver himself over the iron spikes, the boy still slung over his shoulder.
    â€œLittle help?” he said.
    â€œYour new boyfriend,” Pan replied. “You love him so much, you carry him.”
    â€œDo you always have to be such an icy bitch?” He stumbled, almost fell, clutching the kid like a sack of potatoes. A couple of teenage boys walked past holding skateboards, both of them ogling her, oblivious to everything except her exposed bra. She pulled the shirt off her crossbow, gave them something else to ogle, sent them skittering. They were on a side road, a couple of cars parked next to the curb. They weren’t exactly flash, but they’d do. She made for the closest one, used the butt of the crossbow to shatter the driver’s-side window.
    â€œDo you always have to be such a miserable old git?” she replied as she popped the lock, the central locking clunking.
    â€œDo you always need thirty seconds to come up with a riposte?”
    Herc opened the rear door, slid the kid inside. Pan waited until the big guy had straightened before shaking her head at him.
    â€œThat’s a lot of effort for a skinny kid,” she said. “You should have left him up there, with the paramedics. Saved yourself some bother.”
    â€œHe’s seen us, Pan. Seen them . Can’t take the chance he won’t talk.”
    â€œLeft him to die, then,” she offered. “Not like he’d be the first. Hell, we’ve lost a dozen Engineers in as many months, what’s one more corpse for the cleaners to bag up?”
    This time Herc’s eyes narrowed, his face turning to stone. He didn’t reply, just stared at her. If looks could kill, and all that. She had to turn away, her own cheeks heating, suddenly ashamed. She hissed out a humorless laugh to cover it.
    â€œI’m glad you find this so funny, Pan,” Herc said, pushing past her, his disgust oozing off him in waves. He folded his body into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and started ripping out wires from the dash. She stood there a moment longer, chewing on the stew of emotion that bubbled up from her stomach, wanting to punch Herc in the face, wanting to scream her lungs out at the sky, wanting to curl up beneath the car and cry and cry and cry. And it was only because she couldn’t work out which of those feelings scared her more that she walked robotically to the other side, opened the creaking door, and clambered in.
    Herc fired up the engine, revved it.
    â€œYou had to pick a goddamned Honda?” he said, and it was almost an apology. “Come on. We need to get hold of Ostheim before he sends the whole Pigeon’s Nest down here looking for you.”
    Pan didn’t answer. She just stared out the windshield,