Read Online New York Nights [Virex 01] by Eric Brown - Free Book Online

it ... there was a family resemblance. Hey, no wonder I kinda liked the guy. He was gentle, you know, soft-spoken. He wasn’t full of shit. Kinda quiet, calm.’
     
    ‘What happened?’
     
    ‘Well, seeing as how he’s looking for friends, working for us sisters, I said I’ll take him back to Solano and let him look over the apartment. So we go.’
     
    Anna nodded. ‘And?’
     
    ‘And we’re in there about five minutes when the lights go out. Then things start getting weird. I can hardly stand up. There’s a ringing in my ears. I hear the door open, someone come in. I crawl to the door, manage to get away, but before I do, I see this figure in black, holding a weapon of some kind. So I run and call the cops - and about an hour later they decide to show up. When we get back to the apartment, place is one hell of a mess, all the furniture’s been sliced, I mean cut up, and the window’s smashed.’
     
    Anna felt her pulse quicken. ‘What happened to Hal?’
     
    Kia shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. No sign of him, no blood, no body parts. I reckon he got out through the window, managed to escape.’
     
    ‘What did the police do?’
     
    ‘What do you think, girl? They took a statement, photographed the place. Said they’d put someone on the case. I’ll believe that when I see it. Too many of those damned tin-pot drones around these days, and not enough flesh-and-blood cops.’
     
    ‘What’s going on, Kia?’
     
    ‘Search me, girl.’
     
    ‘You don’t think . . .’ she began. ‘You don’t think this guy with the cutter had anything to do with Sissi and Nigeria’s . . . with their disappearance?’
     
    ‘Like I said, Anna, search me. Whole thing’s so shitful weird . . .’ She paused. ‘Hey, don’t fret. I’m sure Sissi and Carrie are okay.’
     
    Anna glanced at Kia. She wanted to say that she wasn’t so sure, but stopped herself.
     
    They finished their coffee and drove home. The sun had gone down behind the skyscrapers, creating a cold, dark interregnum that was neither day nor night. Anna looked out at the anonymous blanket-shrouded figures of the homeless, settling down for another cold night.
     
    Five minutes later she jumped from the car and ran up the steps to her apartment. The lounge received them with its hospitable warmth.
     
    While Kia showered, Anna checked her email. There were half a dozen messages awaiting her. Three were from friends, inviting Anna and Kia out tonight. One was from Felicity: she thought the rewrite was just terrific. Another was from a demented dyke in Ohio who just loved Sapphic Island and wanted to look Anna up if she ever made it to the Big Apple.
     
    The last message was from the editor of a literary press, who had very much enjoyed reading the manuscript of her latest novel, but who in the ‘present publishing climate didn’t think it was quite the right type of novel to engage the public’s imagination,’ etc. et cetera . . .
     
    And that was from the editor of a supposed literary publishing house.
     
    She accessed the file containing the manuscript of her novel in progress. The first draft was almost finished: she had a short epilogue to complete, and then she could begin the leisurely process of the re-write. She skimmed the last few pages, liked what she read, and wondered what she had to do to make the breakthrough.
     
    She didn’t want to be remembered as the pseudonymous hack writer of Sapphic Island. She told herself she was better than that.
     
    The wallscreen chimed with an incoming. She accepted the call and sprawled on the sofa as the screen flared into life.
     
    She sat up, startled. Carrie Villeux stared out at her. She was sitting in an armchair in what looked like a hotel bedroom, one long leg cocked over the arm.
     
    ‘Anna, I’ve been trying to contact you all afternoon.’
     
    ‘Carrie. Where are you? We’ve been worried.’ She considered what Kia had told her about the guy with the cutter. ‘Carrie, is Sissi