Gregor nodded. "I guess that's fair. Where do we make the trade?"
He felt his excitement fading. This was sounding more and more like some tawdry little sex-for-food deal. Not at all what he was looking for. Where were those vigilantes? Damn them!
"Anywhere you want," the cow said. "I just have to check on my little girl first."
Little girl? That renewed Gregor's interest. If it were true, well, he hadn't had really young blood in too long. And if it was a lie to entice some hapless cowboy looking to earn some bonus points, that was fine too. That was why he was here.
"I'll follow you home, then we'll go to my place."
Her house was only a block and a half away. Gregor felt his tension mount as she led him up the front steps to the door. He wouldn't be able to cross the threshold uninvited. If he hesitated too long, she'd guess the truth.
He waited until she'd opened the door. As soon as she stepped inside he said, "This ain't some kinda trap, is it?"
She turned and faced him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, guys like me been dyin left and right lately. I don't wanna step through that door and get jumped."
"Stop being silly and come in."
Gregor stifled a laugh as he stepped forward. Stupid cow.
She was already heading for the stairs when he crossed the threshold.
"Let me just take a quick peek," she said as she bounded up the steps, "and then we can get going."
Gregor watched her go, then closed his eyes, trying to sense other living presences. He found none. His disappointment mounted. This cow wasn't connected to the vigilantes. She was here alone.
Wait. Alone? What about the daughter she'd mentioned? Why didn't he sense her?
Curious, Gregor moved toward the stairs.
OLIVIA . . .
Olivia stared at the woman captured near the church and wanted to scream. If they weren't so short of serfs she would have bled out the three who'd brought her here.
Look at her. Crumbled in the corner like a discarded mannequin. Naked, battered, bleeding from the mouth, nose, vagina, and rectum. And worst of all, unconscious. How could she get any information from this cow if she couldn't speak? Had they beaten her into a coma? What if she never woke up? Olivia would then have to wait until they picked up another. And that would be much harder now because the church fold would be watching for it.
This is what you get when you have to depend on scum.
And what do you get when you depend on an egomaniac like Franco? Just as much. Maybe less.
Wasn't anything going to go right down here in this wasted little section of the coast?
Word had come from New York that Franco was refusing her request for a contingent of ferals and more experienced serfs. Franco was going to handle this matter himself, in his own way, whatever that meant.
What it meant was a slap in the face not just to Gregor, but her as well. Damn him. Damn them all. If just once she could—
One of her get-guards returned then with the bucket of water she'd ordered. Olivia pointed to the cow on the floor.
"Pour it on her. See if that wakes her."
The guard did as he was bid. The cow stirred and shivered but didn't open her eyes.
"Damn! Get more!"
Just then one of the serfs, a tawdry blond woman, tried to step through the Post Office door. Olivia's guards restrained her.
"That's her!" the woman screamed. A deep purple bruise ringed her left eye. "That's the one who suckered me! Let me at her! Just five minutes!"
"Get her out of here," Olivia said.
"No!" the woman shrilled as she was shoved back into the night. "I got a score to settle with her. She owes me!"
"Out!" Olivia screamed.
With help like that, she thought, who needs enemies? How we came this far I'll never know.
Another commotion at the door.
"If it's that serf cow again, slit her throat!"
"It's Gregor's get," one of her guards said. "All his guards."
"What does he want now? He's supposed to be hunting his beloved vigilantes."
Her guard looked puzzled. "He's not with them."
Olivia stiffened with shock. Gregor's get without Gregor? What on—?
And then she smiled. Had Gregor gone off and done something foolish? Something reckless? Oh, she hoped so. It would look all the worse for him when he showed up empty handed again.
"By all means, send them in. But keep close watch on them."
CAROLE . . .
As Sister Carole changed out of her slutty clothes she had a feeling something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she sensed something strange about this one. He wore the earring, he'd reacted just the way all the others had, but he'd been stand-offish, keeping his distance, as if afraid to get too close. That bothered her. Could there be such a thing as a shy collaborator? The ones she'd met so far had been anything but.
God willing, she thought, in a few moments it would be over.
She'd followed her usual routine, dashing upstairs, being sure to take the steps two at a time so it wouldn't look strange hopping over the first.
Now she began rubbing off her makeup, all the while listening for the clank of the bear trap when it was tripped.
Finally it came and she winced as she always did, anticipating the shrill, awful cries of pain. But none came. She rushed to the landing and looked down. There she saw the cowboy ripping the restraining chain free from its nail, then reaching down and opening the jaws of the trap with his bare hands.
With her heart pounding a sudden mad tattoo in her chest, Sister Carole realized then that she'd made a terrible mistake. She'd expected to be caught some day, but not like this. She wasn't prepared for one of them.