Read Online Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One) by B.V. Larson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: B.V. Larson
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sunglasses didn’t seem damaged.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he said.
McKesson kept his gun on me. He clicked on the cuffs, then spun me around to face him. “Not so tough in bracelets, are you, Draith? They never are.”
I didn’t answer. He holstered his gun and gave me a tight smile.
“Shades? You’re wearing shades at night? Are you trying to be cool?”
I still didn’t answer. Inside I was boiling, but I bided my time.
The creature made a sound then. This was something new. We both glanced toward it. The slug had crossed the border of what had once been the concrete slab foundation of my house. It had squirmed its way into the flowerbeds and then out onto the open lawn. At that point it had made a squeaking, bubbling hiss, a sound that was both unpleasantand alien. Like hot coals dropped into a bucket of water, the hissing continued as it approached us with painful slowness. I thought perhaps the grasses it crawled over stung it. The greenery twisted and blackened at the creature’s approach and it left behind a trail of scorched earth.
When McKesson turned his attention back to me, he realized I’d freed myself. It had been easy. I just twisted my wrists and the cuffs fell apart. I was sure he was willing to go for me, but then he felt my .32 automatic under his chin and froze at the cold touch.
“Surprise,” I said.
McKesson eyed the cuffs that dangled from my wrists. The right bracelet hung open. With the sunglasses on, there had only been a rippling sensation of resistance that quickly gave way. It was as if the lock had turned to rubber. I’d hoped it would work that way, and it had.
“You don’t want to do this, Draith,” he said quietly.
“Do you always arrest people by pistol-whipping them?”
“Only murdering scum like you.”
I stared at him for a second. This was the first I’d heard I was a murderer. The scary part was, for all I knew he was right. I decided to bluff it through.
“Am I a suspect, then? In what murder?”
“You’re a perp in one case and a suspect in a dozen more,” he said. His eyes strayed toward the thing that still approached us with agonizing slowness. A crawling slug of hot, molten stone.
I pressed the short barrel of my .32 automatic into the flesh of his throat and took his gun out of his hand. I turned him around, but kept the two of us face-to-face. The stone slug was now behind him, still crawling across my lawn, leaving a blackened trail as it came. McKesson’s eyes widened, showing the glistening whites. He flicked his gaze this wayand that, breathing harder, but he couldn’t see the thing that crawled closer with infinite slowness behind him.
“You know what it’s going to do when it gets to you, don’t you?” I asked. “I have a feeling a man’s legs will broil nicely, from its point of view.”
“You won’t be able to control it if it gets to a source of fuel,” the detective said. “It’ll get you too.”
“What source of fuel?”
“My body fat.”
I peered at him, suspecting bullshit, but there was no hint of a lie there. I felt vaguely disgusted. I dared a glance over his shoulder. The thing had passed over its first plastic-headed sprinkler. A wisp of steam rose up. The slug made an unhappy, mewling sound. It slowed down a fraction more, probably from contacting a source of cold water. McKesson didn’t know that, though.
“What the hell is it doing?” he demanded.
“It’s eyeing your haunches and speeding up.”
“You’ve got my gun, just run for it. I’ll catch up to you later.”
“If I’m a killer, why shouldn’t I knock off one more?”
“You haven’t killed any cops yet. If you had, there would have been five of us waiting for you to show up out here.”
I glanced back behind him, faking a startled look. I pulled him forward by the shirt collar, keeping the gun under his chin. He stumbled forward.
“What?” he asked.
“It was just getting a little close. But I’m
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he said.
McKesson kept his gun on me. He clicked on the cuffs, then spun me around to face him. “Not so tough in bracelets, are you, Draith? They never are.”
I didn’t answer. He holstered his gun and gave me a tight smile.
“Shades? You’re wearing shades at night? Are you trying to be cool?”
I still didn’t answer. Inside I was boiling, but I bided my time.
The creature made a sound then. This was something new. We both glanced toward it. The slug had crossed the border of what had once been the concrete slab foundation of my house. It had squirmed its way into the flowerbeds and then out onto the open lawn. At that point it had made a squeaking, bubbling hiss, a sound that was both unpleasantand alien. Like hot coals dropped into a bucket of water, the hissing continued as it approached us with painful slowness. I thought perhaps the grasses it crawled over stung it. The greenery twisted and blackened at the creature’s approach and it left behind a trail of scorched earth.
When McKesson turned his attention back to me, he realized I’d freed myself. It had been easy. I just twisted my wrists and the cuffs fell apart. I was sure he was willing to go for me, but then he felt my .32 automatic under his chin and froze at the cold touch.
“Surprise,” I said.
McKesson eyed the cuffs that dangled from my wrists. The right bracelet hung open. With the sunglasses on, there had only been a rippling sensation of resistance that quickly gave way. It was as if the lock had turned to rubber. I’d hoped it would work that way, and it had.
“You don’t want to do this, Draith,” he said quietly.
“Do you always arrest people by pistol-whipping them?”
“Only murdering scum like you.”
I stared at him for a second. This was the first I’d heard I was a murderer. The scary part was, for all I knew he was right. I decided to bluff it through.
“Am I a suspect, then? In what murder?”
“You’re a perp in one case and a suspect in a dozen more,” he said. His eyes strayed toward the thing that still approached us with agonizing slowness. A crawling slug of hot, molten stone.
I pressed the short barrel of my .32 automatic into the flesh of his throat and took his gun out of his hand. I turned him around, but kept the two of us face-to-face. The stone slug was now behind him, still crawling across my lawn, leaving a blackened trail as it came. McKesson’s eyes widened, showing the glistening whites. He flicked his gaze this wayand that, breathing harder, but he couldn’t see the thing that crawled closer with infinite slowness behind him.
“You know what it’s going to do when it gets to you, don’t you?” I asked. “I have a feeling a man’s legs will broil nicely, from its point of view.”
“You won’t be able to control it if it gets to a source of fuel,” the detective said. “It’ll get you too.”
“What source of fuel?”
“My body fat.”
I peered at him, suspecting bullshit, but there was no hint of a lie there. I felt vaguely disgusted. I dared a glance over his shoulder. The thing had passed over its first plastic-headed sprinkler. A wisp of steam rose up. The slug made an unhappy, mewling sound. It slowed down a fraction more, probably from contacting a source of cold water. McKesson didn’t know that, though.
“What the hell is it doing?” he demanded.
“It’s eyeing your haunches and speeding up.”
“You’ve got my gun, just run for it. I’ll catch up to you later.”
“If I’m a killer, why shouldn’t I knock off one more?”
“You haven’t killed any cops yet. If you had, there would have been five of us waiting for you to show up out here.”
I glanced back behind him, faking a startled look. I pulled him forward by the shirt collar, keeping the gun under his chin. He stumbled forward.
“What?” he asked.
“It was just getting a little close. But I’m
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