taken. But if I started the music early, I risked throwing away my sucker punch. Nothing’s master might show up at any time.
On the other hand, Nothing seemed to be large and in charge. Perhaps the hissing person I’d spoken to on the phone had left matters in Nothing’s shovellike hands. Or perhaps I’d read the situation incorrectly. What if one of the other turtlenecks had been the first speaker, and Nothing was really the boss?
I made up my mind and settled the P-90’s crosshair onto Nothing’s head, a little below the tip of his nose. The weapon was set for automatic fire, and while I could control the weapon fairly well, especially when it was loaded with subsonic rounds, the recoil would tend to carry the weapon’s muzzle higher after the first shot.
Against anything human, more than one round to the head would be overkill: When the merely mortal goes up against the supernatural, there’s no such thing as overkill.
I snuggled the gun in close and tight, took a deep breath in, let it halfway out, held it, and began to slowly squeeze the weapon’s trigger.
The instant before the trigger would have broken, there was a shimmering in the air and a man stepped out of it, appearing as if from nowhere.
I backed off the tension on my finger, feeling my heart surge with unspent adrenaline.
The man was of medium height, with sallow skin and greasy, straight black hair that hung past his shoulders. His lips were very thick and his mouth very wide, almost to the point of deformity. His large eyes were dark and watery and bulging, his nose sunken, as small as any I had ever seen. He was soaking wet and naked, his limbs scrawny and long, his hands very, very wide. Except for the hair, I couldn’t help but compare him to a frog—a sullen, vicious frog.
The man let out a sound somewhat like a muffled belch, then vomited water onto the floor. Flaps of skin at his neck flared in and out, spewing smaller sprays of water several times, until he drew in a breath through his mouth, evidently filling his lungs with air.
All of the turtlenecks turned to face the creature and fell to their knees, including Nothing, who calmly set Marcy aside and went into a full kowtow, his palms flat on the floor, his forehead pressed down onto his knuckles.
“Sssssso,” he hissed, “did the inssssolent creature deliver our prizesss?”
I recognized the voice from the telephone.
“Yes, my lord,” rumbled Nothing. “As promised and in plenty of time to move.”
“Did you sssstrike the bitch down?”
Nothing rocked back and then bowed again, somehow giving the impression that he was doing it more deeply. “She was clever enough to build safeguards into the meeting. I could not do so without attracting attention.”
Frogface hissed. “I will sssettle with the mortal another time,” he said. “Sssuch insssolence cannot be countenanced.”
“No, my lord.”
“Bring the new acquisitionsss. I will bind them.”
“They have been given drugs, my lord. The binding could damage them.”
Without looking particularly excited about it, Frogface kicked Nothing in the armpit. The blow was a more powerful one than Frogface’s frame would suggest he was capable of giving. It flung Nothing from his hands and knees and onto his side by main force.
“Bring them.”
“I obey,” wheezed Nothing. He rose unsteadily and went to pick up Will. He dropped the young werewolf onto the floor beside Marcy.
“Sssuch disgusssting thingsss, mortalsss,” Frogface murmured. His eyes lifted to Georgia in her cage. “She hasss not yet capitulated.”
“No, my lord,” Nothing muttered.
“Interesssting,” Frogface said, and a leer spread over his broad mouth. “When we arrive, transport her to my chambers. We will sssee what is left of her ssstrength when the ssspawn is taken from her womb.”
Jesus, men can be assholes. Even when they’re barely human. Frogface was officially elected.
Georgia shuddered. She lifted her head, very slowly, as if it had been held down with vast weights—and the glare she turned on Frogface was nothing less than murderous.
Frogface chuckled at the expression and turned to face Will and Marcy. He dipped his fingers into a pouch that hung around his neck, almost invisible against his leathery skin, and withdrew what looked like a small seashell from it. He leered at the motionless Marcy and said, “Firssst, the female.”
He closed his eyes and made a low sound in his throat, then began chanting words that bubbled and gobbled out from between his rubbery lips.