“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes.” I petted Grendel’s huge head. He was a black dog, a mystic hound. Trouble was, he transformed only when he felt like it.
“I can’t help but point out that I’m still confined,” Saiman said.
I glanced at Derek. “Will you let him out, please? He’ll just keep whining.”
He scrambled up the slope of the Mole Hole, up the building, and along the beam, running on his oversized feet, his shaggy body silhouetted against the moon and the ruined city.
I checked my side. The katana’s blade had left a shallow gash. It bled quite a bit, but my shirt had absorbed most of it. I pulled gauze from my pocket, pressed it against the wound, and pulled my shirt over it. I took a flask with kerosene from my belt and backtracked, pouring it on anything resembling blood. Once blood was separated from my body, I could no longer hide its magic.
Derek reached the end of the beam and crouched, untangling the chains.
I struck a match. The trail of kerosene caught fire.
“Do hurry,” Saiman said.
Derek raised his clawed hands. The cage plummeted twenty-five feet to the ground and bounced, chipping the glass. The metal door popped open.
“Ow.” Saiman shouldered his way out of the cage. He towered over me, a full eight feet tall. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought anything nutritious with you?”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “Slipped my mind.” Being a polymorph, Saiman needed a huge amount of calories for his metamorphosis. The fight with his kidnappers must’ve drained him dry.
Saiman sighed. “Regrettable.”
“You owe me.”
“I’m well aware of that, thank you. Although in light of recent events, I believe the dog should get the lion’s share of the reward.”
“The dog is my employee. I mean it, Saiman. You owe me a big favor. One day I will call to collect.”
“Suddenly I feel less secure than when I was confined,” Saiman said.
I grinned at him and walked away, leaving his kidnappers to Saiman’s tender mercy. Some men might have killed them in revenge. I was pretty sure Saiman would contact the cops and then sue the lot.
Derek caught up with me. I held out my hand and he low-fived me. Let’s see, some would-be kidnappers diverted from their life of crime, an otherworldly monster killed, and one sexual deviant rescued. All in all, not a bad night.
“A hundred grand is a lot of money,” Derek said.
“A favor from Saiman is worth more.” Eventually it would prove useful. I was counting on it.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian, and Andrew is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Andrew was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Andrew is still sore about that.) Together, Andrew and Ilona are the coauthors of the New York Times bestselling Kate Daniels urban fantasy series and the romantic urban fantasy novels of the Edge. They currently reside in Austin, Texas, with their two children and numerous pets. For sample chapters, news, and more, visit www.ilona-andrews.com.