The Last Smile in Sunder City (The Fetch Phillips Archives #1) - Luke Arnold Page 0,31

this melange of man and animal, it was his jaw that caused the most concern. In fact, it was a thing of pure horror. The left side of his face was yawning open with the deformed gums and scattered fangs of a piece of roadkill brought to life. The heavy canine pieces pulled down on his otherwise humanoid skin, drawing his expression into the eternal sorrow of a mother in mourning. The jaw became even more fearsome when it laughed.

“Well, look what we have here. Fetch Phillips stumbling down to Stammer. You always did love a freak show, didn’t you, delivery boy?”

The Werewolves of Perimoor had been a well-respected, powerful species and Peteris Merland was once their Ambassador to Sunder City. I’d only ever seen him in a tailored linen suit with an expertly combed, foppish fringe. Now he was wrapped in sailcloth and his hair was as overgrown as a bachelor’s bathroom mold. Time hung open between us like both our gaping mouths. He finally snapped the silence with a voice-box full of scabs and broken glass.

“How about you buy an old friend a drink?”

We went back to The Roost. It was safe to say that the run-down, old-world warriors now outweighed the blooming youth, in presence if not in number. We’d tried to get into some other bars closer to Stammer but no one was going to let in a sweaty mercenary and his half-dog companion. The best thing about Eileen’s bar was that it stuck out on to the street. That helped to blow away the damp, pissy smell that wafted out of Pete’s fur.

“So, tell me about these bastards,” he said, after I filled him in on my night so far.

“Just kids. They hang around that saloon in Swestum. Not a real fighter among them but I thought I should give you a heads-up in case I inspired them to get their big brothers.”

He lapped at his beer with a spotted tongue. His asymmetrical lips didn’t hold the liquid too well, but it seemed to give him some satisfaction nonetheless.

“It was laughable really. The leader was a ginger kid with bad acne. Remember how army grunts used to stitch up their hand-me-down recruit jackets rather than buy new ones? He’d done that with a new damn jacket! Not a scratch on it except for the holes he’d poked himself. I know we’ve seen some crazy stuff in our time, but that was the most ridiculous damn thing I’ve seen in years.”

His laughter rattled like a sandpaper saxophone.

“Look at you, Fetch. The world is upside down but you’re exactly the same. Running from one job to another, following whoever rings the bell. I believe there might be more dog in you than me.”

He’d left his blanket with a buddy on the Row. Now, only a ragged T-shirt covered his balding back. It looked like he was shivering, but that could have been the fleas. Suddenly, a jacket landed on the table in front of him. He looked up at Eileen’s ever-relaxed expression.

“Here. Lost property from weeks ago. Should be about your size.” Pride and shame battled in his mismatched eyes. “Take it.”

He slipped his thin arms through the sleeves and mumbled a simple, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She dropped a straw into his beer. That made him smile. She didn’t seem to mind him smiling either. I guess when you spend your days beneath the bedroom of a decaying Vampire you get used to looking death in the face without blinking.

The other customers cleared out, so Eileen was free to pull up a stool on her side of the bar. We were both glad to have a third member in the band. There wasn’t much for Pete and me to talk about. The old days brought pain and the present wasn’t much better. Eileen filled the gaps perfectly. She spun off a list of her worst customers (perhaps to make Pete feel more comfortable). Self-righteous royalty from long-fallen kingdoms or strung-out junkies who’d come into a windfall by robbing their best friends’ back-pocket.

It wasn’t all disappointment. Pete was clean – of drugs, at least – and he was still as sharp as an Elf’s ear. Once Eileen politely asked us to hit the road, I told him he could sleep at mine if he wanted to. He swiftly refused.

“The neighbors will get worried if I don’t make it home before sunrise. They may not be pretty, but the boys on the Row have my back. This was lovely, Fetch. A