Toys

Chapter 93

I walked very quickly, then began to run through the mean streets of the human slums, making damn sure everyone saw me. There was no way I could find the human leaders in this vast, complex warren-I could only hope that they would find me.

And that they would accept my help before 7–4 started and all was lost.

My oversensitive hearing caught a pop off in the distance-a small, sharp explosion. Weird; it sounded like an old-fashioned gunshot to me.

I calculated the shot to be 1.83 miles away-and the location clicked in my memory.

It was the warehouse where the girl Shanna lived with her ragged tribe-and where I’d helped deliver her baby, her very adorable baby, who I had promised to visit again.

Well, here I was.

I broke into a full-out sprint, racing through the crowds of startled slum dwellers, who cursed me instinctively but also shoved one another to get out of my way. They had to, since I was running at forty-plus miles an hour.

The narrow, murky alley that led to the warehouse was silent and seemed deserted at first look. There was no hint of where the gunshot might have come from.

But something was lying on the broken pavement near the warehouse entrance, approximately fifty yards ahead. Most of the body was hidden by a building’s corner-all I could see were the feet and toes, pointing up, still moving, quivering.

I dropped to a tight combat crouch and edged forward through the shadows-tensed for any noise or movement, but especially a sudden attack.

With every step I took, a little more of the suspicious body came into view-legs, waist, a face.

Face? I haven’t even gotten to the shoulders yet!

Face?

How is that-

Finally, I stared in shock at what I saw. The body’s head, torn from its neck, was actually sitting on top of the blood-soaked torso.

It held a most peculiar expression, like it was still trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong. But the real stunner came when I recognized who the big head belonged to.

Owen McGill.