"Did Corban or Amber tell you what my business is?" "Nope.
Your name never crossed their lips once you were gone." It was the truth, but I saw his mouth tighten.
He didn't like that.
Didn't like his pets not paying attention to him.
It was the first sign of weakness I'd seen.
I wasn't sure if it would be useful or not.
But I'd take what I could get.
Know your enemy.
"I deal with ...
specialty ammunition," he said, looking at me through narrowed eyes.
"Most of it top secret government stuff.
I have, for instance, been very successful with a variety of ammunition designed for killing werewolves.
I have, among other things, a silver version of the old Black Talon.
Silver is a lousy metal for bullets; it doesn't expand well.
Instead of mushrooming, this one opens up like a flower." He spread his hand so it looked like a starfish.
"And then there are those very interesting tranquilizer darts of Gerry Wallace's design.
Now that was a surprise.
I'd never have thought of DMSO as a delivery system for the silver--or a tranquilizer gun as a delivery system.
But then, his father was a vet.
This is why tools may be useful." "You knew Gerry Wallace?" I asked, because I couldn't help it.
I took another bite as if my stomach weren't clenched, so he wouldn't think that the answer mattered too much.
"He came to me first," Blackwood said.
"But it didn't suit me to do as he asked ...
the Marrok is a bit larger target than I wanted to take on." He smiled apologetically.
"I am essentially a lazy creature, so my maker used to say.
I sent Gerry on his way with an idea about building a superweapon against werewolves in some convoluted scheme sure to fail and no memory of coming to me at all.
Imagine my surprise when the boy actually came up with something interesting." He smiled gently at me.
"You need to watch Bran closer," I told him.
I grabbed a pitcher of water and poured it.
"He's more subtle, and it makes that omniscient thing work better for him.