“Prospero,” Dispatch called through the walkie. “Backup is on its way.”
“Copy. The vic?”
“Ambulance arrived and confirmed death. M.E. is on his way to make it official.”
I looked around to get my bearings. He veered right on Mercury St. “The suspect appears to be headed for the Arteries,” I spoke into the communicator. “I’m pursuing.”
“Copy that, Officer Prospero. Be advised you are required to wait for backup before entering the tunnels.” She told me their coordinates.
I cursed under my breath. They were still five blocks away and on foot.
A block or so up I could see one of the boarded-up gates that led down into the old subway tunnels. The system had been abandoned fifty years earlier before the project was anywhere close to completion. Now the tunnels served as a rabbit warren for potion addicts wanting to chase the black dragon in the rat-infested, shit-stench darkness.
In front of the gate, a large wooden sign announced the site as the “Future Home of the Cauldron Community Center.” Under those words was the logo for Volos Real Estate Development, which did nothing to improve my mood.
If Speedy made it through that gate, we’d never find him. The tunnels would swallow him in one gulp. My conscience suddenly sounded a lot like Captain Eldritch in my head. “Don’t be an idiot, Kate. Wait for backup.”
I hadn’t run halfway through the Cauldron only to lose the bastard to the darkness. But I knew better than to enter the tunnels alone. The captain had laid down that policy after a rookie ended up rat food five years earlier. So I wasn’t going to follow him down there, but I could still slow him down a little. Buy some time for backup to arrive.
The salt flare’s thick double barrel was preloaded with two rock salt shells. A bite from one of those puppies was rarely lethal, but it was enough to dilute the effects of most potions, as well as cause enough pain to convince perps to lay down and play dead. The only catch was, you had to be within twenty feet for the salt to interrupt the magic. The closer, the better if you want the bonus of severe skin abrasions.
The runner was maybe fifteen feet from me and a mere ten from the gate that represented his freedom. Time to make the move. I stopped running and took aim.
Exhale. Squeeze. Boom!
Rock salt exploded from the gun in a starburst. Some of the rocks pinged off the gate’s boards and metal fittings. The rest embedded in the perp’s shirtless back like shrapnel. Small red pockmarks covered the dirty bare skin not covered with tufts of dark hair. He stumbled, but he didn’t stay down.
Instead, he leapt from the ground with a snarl. His hands grasped the top edge of the gate. A narrow opening between the gate and the upper concrete stood between him and freedom.
“Shit!” Frustration and indecision made my muscles yearn for action. My only choice was to take him down.
Speedy already had his head and an arm through the opening at the top of the gate. I surged up and grabbed his ankles. Lifted my feet to help gravity do its job. We slammed to the ground and rolled all asses and elbows through the dirt and grass and broken potion vials.
The impact momentarily stunned us both. My arm stung where the glass shards had done their worst, but the pain barely registered through the heady rush of adrenaline.
Speedy leapt off the ground with a growl. I jumped after him, my grip tight on the salt flare. I still had one shell left, not that I expected it to do much good after seeing the first one had barely fazed him. In my other hand, I held a small canister of S&P spray. “BPD! You’re under arrest!”
The beast barely looked human. His hair was long and matted in some patches, which alternated with visible wide swaths of pink scalp—like he’d been infected with mange. The lower half of his face was covered in a shaggy beard. The pale skin around his yellow eyes and mouth was red and raw. His teeth were crooked and sharp. Too large for his mouth to corral. Hairy shoulders almost touched his ears like a dog with his hackles up.
If he understood my command he didn’t show it. That intense yellow gaze focused on my left forearm where a large gash oozed blood. His too-red lips curled back into a snarl.
I aimed the canister of salt and pepper spray. The burning mixture of saline and capsicum hit him between the eyes. He blinked, sneezed. Wiped a casual hand across his face. No screaming. No red, watery eyes or swollen mucus glands.
His nostrils flared and he lowered his face to sniff the air closer to me. His yellow eyes stayed focused on my wound. An eager red tongue caressed those sharp teeth in anticipation.
For the first time, actual fear crept like ice tendrils up the back of my neck. What kind of fucked-up potion was this guy on?
I don’t remember removing the Glock from my belt. I don’t remember pointing it at the perp’s snarling face. But I remember shouting, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
One second the world was still except for the pounding of my heart and the cold fear clawing my gut. The next, his wrecking-ball weight punched my body to the ground. My legs flew up and my back crashed into the metal gate. Hot breath escaped my panicked lungs. His body pinned me to the metal bars.
Acrid breath on my face. Body odor and unwashed skin everywhere. An erect penis pressed into my hip. But my attacker wasn’t interest in sex. He was aroused by something else altogether—blood. My blood.
My fear.
The next instant, his teeth clamped over the bleeding wound. Pain blasted up my arm like lightning. Sickening sucking sounds filled the night air. Fear burst like a blinding light in my brain. “Fuck!”
The perp pulled me toward the ground and pinned me. The impact knocked the weapon from my hand, but it only lay a couple feet away. I reached for it with my left hand. But fingers can only stretch so far no matter how much you yearn and curse and pray.
The pain was like needles stabbing my vein. My vision swam. If I didn’t stop him soon, I’d pass out. If that happened he’d drag me into those tunnels and no one would see me again.
Fortunately, elbows make excellent motivators. Especially when they’re rammed into soft temples. At least they are usually. In this case, my bloodthirsty opponent was too busy feasting on my flesh and blood to react. Finally, in a desperate move, I bucked my hips like a wild thing. He lost contact with my arm just long enough for me to roll a few centimeters closer to my target.
I reared up, grabbed the gun and pivoted.
The pistol’s mouth kissed his cheek a split second before it removed his face.
Backup arrived thirty seconds too late.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Soulless: Cover Image
Soulless: Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One: In Which Parasols Prove Useful
Chapter Two: An Unexpected Invitation
Chapter Three: Our Heroine Heeds Some Good Advice
Chapter Four: Our Heroine Ignores Good Advice
Chapter Five: Dinner with an American
Chapter Six: Driving with Scientists, Dabbling with Earls
Chapter Seven: Revelations Over Chopped Liver
Chapter Eight: Backyard Shenanigans
Chapter Nine: A Problem of Werewolf Proportions
Chapter Ten: For the Good of the Commonwealth
Chapter Eleven: Among the Machines
Chapter Twelve: Nothing but Werewolf
Chapter Thirteen: The Last Room
Chapter Fourteen: Royal Interference
Epilogue
Book 2: Changeless
Changeless: Cover Image
Changeless: Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One: Wherein Things Disappear, Alexia Gets Testy Over Tents, and Ivy Has an Announcement
Chapter Two: A Plague of Humanization
Chapter Three: Hat Shopping and Other Difficulties
Chapter Four: The Proper Use of Parasols
Chapter Five: Lord Akeldama’s Latest
Chapter Six: The Lady’s Dirigible Invitational
Chapter Seven: Problematic Octopuses and Airship Mountaineering
Chapter Eight: Castle Kingair
Chapter Nine: In Which Meringues Are Annihilated
Chapter Ten: Aether Transmissions
Chapter Eleven: Chief Sundowner
Chapter Twelve: The Great Unwrapping
Chapter Thirteen: The Latest Fashion from France
Chapter Fourteen: Changes
Book 3: Blameless
Blameless: Cover Image
Blameless: Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One: Wherein the Misses Loontwill Cope with Scandal in Their Midst
Chapter Two: In Which Lord Maccon Is Likened to a Small Cucumber
Chapter Three: Alexia Engages in Entomology
Chapter Four: Tea and Insults
Chapter Five: In Which Ivy Hisselpenny and Professor Lyall Are Given Too Much Responsibility
Chapter Six: Under the Name Tarabotti
Chapter Seven: The Trouble with Vampires
Chapter Eight: Trial by Snuff, Kumquat, and Exorcism
Chapter Nine: How Not to Cross an Alpine Pass
Chapter Ten: In Which Alexia Meddles with Silent Italians
Chapter Eleven: Wherein Alexia Encounters Both Pesto and a Mysterious Jar
Chapter Twelve: The Great Scotch Egg Under the Thames
Chapter Thirteen: Picnicking with Templars
Chapter Fourteen: In Which the Infant-Inconvenience Becomes Considerably More Inconvenient
Chapter Fifteen: Ladybugs to the Rescue
Chapter Sixteen: On a Bridge over the Arno and Other Romantic Misnomers
Book 4: Heartless
Heartless: Cover Image
Heartless: Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue: P Is for Preternatural
Chapter One: In Which Lady Alexia Maccon Waddles
Chapter Two: Wherein Alexia Will Not Be Flung
Chapter Three: Matters Ghostly
Chapter Four: Where Tethered Specters Meet
Chapter Five: The Lair of the Octopus
Chapter Six: In Which Mrs. Tunstell Proves Useful
Chapter Seven: The Werewolves of Woolsey Castle
Chapter Eight: Death by Teapot
Chapter Nine: In Which the Past Complicates the Present
Chapter Ten: Ivy’s Agent Doom
Chapter Eleven: Wherein Hairmuffs Become All the Rage
Chapter Twelve: Formerly Beatrice Lefoux
Chapter Thirteen: The Octopus Stalks at Moonlight
Chapter Fourteen: In Which Lady Maccon Mislays Her Parasol
Chapter Fifteen: Where Dirigibles Fear to Tread
Chapter Sixteen: A Clot of Vampires
Chapter Seventeen: In Which We All Learn a Little Something About Prudence
Book 5: Timeless
Timeless: Cover Image
Timeless: Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One: In Which There Is Almost a Bath and Definitely a Trip to the Theater
Chapter Two: Wherein Mrs. Colindrikal-Bumbcruncher Does Not Buy a Hat
Chapter Three: In Which Lord Maccon Wears a Pink Brocade Shawl
Chapter Four: Several Unexpected Occurrences and Tea
Chapter Five: Under Cover of Thespians
Chapter Six: In Which the Parasol Protectorate Acquires a New Member
Chapter Seven: Biffy Encounters a Most Unsatisfactory Parasol
Chapter Eight: Alexia Makes an Unexpectedly Damp Discovery
Chapter Nine: Biffy Experiments with Flirting and Felicity
Chapter Ten: Wherein Our Intrepid Travelers Ride Donkeys
Chapter Eleven: In Which Prudence Discovers Sentences
Chapter Twelve: Wherein Alexia and Ivy Meet a Man with a Beard
Chapter Thirteen: In Which Idle Letters Waste Lives
Chapter Fourteen: Wherein Alexia Loans Mr. Tumtrinkle Her Gun
Chapter Fifteen: In Which We Learn Why Werewolves Don’t Float
Chapter Sixteen: The Curative Properties of Nile Bathing
Chapter Seventeen: A Gastropod Among Us
Chapter Eighteen: The Truth Behind the Octopus
Chapter Nineteen: How to Retire to the Countryside
Chapter Twenty: In Which Times Shift
Meet the Author
Also by Gail Carriger
A Preview of Etiquette & Espionage
A Preview of Dirty Magic
Orbit Newsletter
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Gail Carriger
Excerpt from Etiquette & Espionage copyright © 2013 by Gail Carriger
Excerpt from Dirty Magic copyright © 2014 by Jaye Wells
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Published by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First ebook edition: October 2012
ISBN 978-0-316-21227-4
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