The Last Smile in Sunder City (The Fetch Phillips Archives #1) - Luke Arnold Page 0,95

with my mouth open, smiling. I must have looked insane. I felt insane.

The Gnome was already laughing.

“What happened to the Vamp?” I asked the barman. He appeared to be both confused and exhausted.

“Get out.”

I swiped my hand across the table, whacking the bowl of nuts on to the floor. It was fun, playing tough. I almost forgot I was about to get my face kicked in.

“Edmund. Albert. Rye.” I stepped closer, crushing snacks beneath my boots. “He used to come here. Now he’s missing, and two other Vampires have been killed down by the piazza. It has something to do with The League of Vampires and,” I pointed at the Cyclops but I didn’t get too close, “I think you know what’s going on.”

I didn’t think he knew what was going on. I didn’t think he knew anything. The expression on his face all but confirmed it.

“Leave this place, crazy man, and don’t come back.”

I picked up an ashtray and threw it at him. I missed but it smashed two expensive bottles behind his head.

The Gnome cackled in delight. The Cyclops went red. I dared to take another step forward.

Then, he pulled a crossbow out from under the bar.

Shit.

You get used to taking punches. It never feels good but it can start to feel like a natural part of life after a while. Getting shot? Well, that’s always a bitch.

Nobody moved. My two eyes stared into his single orb. I was sweating.

“Look,” I said, “Buster. I’m just trying to—”

I turned and ran. I was almost around the door when I heard the twang of the bowstring and, sure enough, felt a pain in my shoulder a split-second later.

I lost my footing on the stairs and fell forward. I didn’t want to turn, in case it shoved the bolt farther into my back, so I took the force of the tumble on my hands, knees and noggin.

Once I slammed into the sidewalk, I scrambled to my feet and kept moving in case the barman came out to fire off another shot. I felt like two hundred pounds of foolishness but I’d done what I’d wanted to: stir up some shit to see what comes sniffing.

29

Lucky for me, the bolt wasn’t barbed and the thick hide of my jacket had slowed it down. I was able to get it out by jamming the shaft in my front door and wrenching my body away from it. It hurt worse than anything that had happened in the last week but I couldn’t waste my time at the overcrowded medical center.

The only problem with my plan was that it involved sitting silent in my office for an unknown amount of time. It wasn’t a good day for sitting still without distractions. My head was full of fire ants. They were digging through my memories and kicking up all the things I’d done wrong.

Two days working on the deal for the mansion. Even more time chasing my tail, thinking that this whole mess must have been caused by some Human doing what we did best.

I should have put this together sooner: Rye being connected to what happened at the teahouse, and The League of Vampires working hard to keep something under wraps.

Finally, I was distracted by a scraping sound outside.

He was quiet, but the night was still. I heard something slide against the outside wall that wasn’t a pigeon or a bat. Good. I was worried that he might just try the stairwell when I’d placed all my bets on the Angel door.

I was sitting under the windowsill with my knife in my hands. There was a wire beside me: running from the broken radiator, along the floor and out into the waiting room.

The light in the window flickered as the Flyboy peered in through the glass. I’d stuffed clothes under my covers on the bed to make it look like I was asleep. A stupid, schoolboy trick, but it’s a cliché for a reason. A minute later, I heard the almost-silent sounds of metal scraping against metal, not far from my head. Lockpicks, working through the brass like it was nothing. The lock clicked open and the kid took his time turning the knob.

The door swung between us as he stepped inside.

The League of Vampires aren’t the only organization who know how to set a trap. Both the Opus and the Human Army had managed to drill a few useful skills into my head.

While Flyboy closed the door, and his head was still turned, I