Angel Town

Misericordia

We left near dusk, stealing out like a pair of thieves. At least, we would have sneaked out if Galina hadn’t packed everything for us and Theron hadn’t cooked a gluttonous farewell meal, during which Anya stalked in reeking of smoke and nodded at me.

The Monde was gutted. I didn’t even have to go check.

She stayed only long enough for a silent beer before vanishing again. Gilberto sucked down a couple beers, too, ate a whole pan of tamales, and informed me he was going to be working in the barrio with the Weres, not to mention training with Devi, until I came back.

“We still need to discuss you not following orders,” I muttered.

He actually winked at me, and left with a couple bird Weres who didn’t look at me. They were probably kin of the deceased, but they said nothing.

Weres don’t talk about their dead.

I turned the key and the Chevy roared into life. Theron waved, then ducked back inside Galina’s store, the bell tinkling and gleaming as the door closed. I dropped the car into gear, popped the brake, and pulled out slowly even though the street was deserted. Turned left at the bottom of the slight hill, and began threading our way toward the freeway.

When we reached Miguel and 147th, Saul let out a sigh.

“We’ll stop over the state line for a snack.” I kept my eyes on the road. “And, you know, if you get tired…”

“I’m fine, kitten.” Slightly irritated.

“Here.” I dug in my pocket. The new coat was stiff, and I was hoping I could go for at least a week without it getting ripped or blown off me. We were supposed to be embarking on a vacation, but there were a lot of new hellbreed around.

Trouble might find us.

I fished out an unopened pack of Charvils. “Congrats. Galina says you can smoke again.”

“Thank God,” he said with feeling, grabbing for it, and I surprised myself by laughing. It was a harsh, cracked sound, but it felt good.

The rearview mirror was alive with reflected sunset, but a shadow flickered in its depths. I stood on the brake and we skidded to a stop, Saul’s right hand slapped down on the dash.

“Jill?” Quiet, but with a thread of a growl underneath.

I hit the seat belt catch and hopped out, the gun held low and ready. Scanned the rooftops, every hair quivering, my nape crawling with gooseflesh. Readiness settled over me, and it felt so good I could have cried.

A long lean shape flickered out of the alley to my right, and I sighed. Eased my finger off the trigger. “Christ.”

Saul’s door opened. “Is that what I think it is?”

The dogsbody’s fur gleamed golden. It was rail-thin, and it cringed as it trot-walked up to me, ears back and flat, stubby tail tucked as far as it could go. When it got within twenty feet, its front end came down, and it finished by literally crawling on its belly. The ugly thing heaved to a stop right in front of my boots, and I shut my eyes, listening to its quick wheezing breaths.

Sweat stood out all over me. I lifted the gun, just a little.

The dog whined. Softly. Saul was still and quiet, watching.

I could just bend down, put the barrel against the thing’s domed head, and pull the trigger. Easy, so very easy.

The dogsbody whined again, and shuddered. Its head was on my boots.

No, Jill. It was my conscience, speaking loud and clear. You don’t get a chance to practice mercy every day.

My cheeks were wet. I forced my eyes open. The sun was dying, and the usual wind from the river cut across the buildings, laden with desert sand and exhaust. The dog sighed, its eyes closed.

I slid the gun back into its holster. Cleared my throat. Still, I sounded choked. “Put the gate down, will you?”

Saul said nothing. His footsteps were soft, and the screech of the tailgate covered up whatever he might have muttered. I moved my toes and the dog looked up, its eyes wide and dark now. Not blue, and not pale, colorless crystalline. Relief tasted like thin copper; my mouth was full of it. I swiped at my nose with the back of my hand.

“Get in,” I said harshly.

The dog hauled itself up. It shambled to the end of the truck and made a graceless clumsy scrabble, its nails clicking on the bed as Saul slammed the gate. It settled down with a sigh, right next to the spare tire, and closed its weary eyes again.

I got back in and slammed my own door. Saul was a moment behind me. The engine idled; someone had done some tune-up on it. Probably one of the Weres, Devi wasn’t a big car person and Leon held his own truck together with spit and baling wire.

The click of a lighter sounded very loud in the cab’s hush. Saul inhaled and blew out a cloud of cherry-scented smoke.

“I’m sorry,” I managed through the rock in my throat. “I can’t—”

“I always wanted a hound.” Saul grabbed his seat belt. I mechanically followed suit.

“I…” Everything I wanted to say balled up inside me, and he glanced over. A half smile curled up one corner of his mouth, and the pressure inside my chest eased. How the hell did he do that? Would I ever figure it out? “I thought cats don’t like dogs.” I dropped it into gear again, eased us forward toward Fifth Street and the freeway on-ramps.

“That’s not a dog. It’s a hound. Completely different.” Saul snorted, took another drag. “Hope it eats Purina.”

“Yeah.” I braked for the red light on Fifth, we rolled to a stop. Traffic was light here, for once, and if we were lucky we’d be out of town in twenty minutes. “Saul?”

“Hmm?” He settled further, stretching his legs out.

“I love you.”

I’m surprised he heard me, because I couldn’t say it very loud. But his reply was clear and distinct.

“I love you, too, kitten.”

By the time we crossed the state line he’d scooted over to the middle seat belt, I had my arm around him, and we drove on into the desert night.