Slawter Read Online Free Page A

her. Now stop pestering me, or I might —”
    “We have company,” I interrupt.
    Dervish turns questioningly. The woman enters the kitchen. I step aside so he can see her. Instant recognition. His face goes white, then red. He steps away from the stove, abandoning the steak. Eyes tight. Lips quivering. With anger.
    “
You!
” He spits the word out.
    “It’s been a long time, Dervish,” the woman says softly, not moving forward to shake his hand. “You look better than I expected.”
    “I thought she was David A. Haym,” I tell him.
    “She’s not,” he barks. “She’s Prae Athim.”
    “Pray at him?” I echo.
    “Pray Ah-teem,” the woman says, stressing the syllables.
    “She’s one of the Lambs,” Dervish says with a sneer.
    And the fear that was tickling away at me in the car kicks in solid, like a nail being hammered into my gut.

Lambikins
    I N Dervish’s study. Like most of the rooms, it’s huge. But whereas the others have bare walls, with stone or wood floorboards, the study is carpeted and the walls are covered with leather panels. There are two large desks, bookcases galore, a PC, laptop, typewriter, paper, and pens. There used to be five chess sets, but not anymore. The swords and axes that hung from the walls are gone too.
    Prae Athim doesn’t want me here. That’s obvious from her disapproving look. Dervish doesn’t care. He’s seated behind the computer desk, one hand on his mouse, moving it around in small circles, waiting for his unwelcome guest to speak. Prae Athim is seated opposite. I’m standing close to the door, ready to leave if Dervish tells me to.
    “Billy Spleen still lives with his grandparents?” Prae says finally. Dervish nods slowly. “I thought you might have moved him in with you. To observe.”
    “You’re the master observer, not me,” Dervish says quietly.
    “Isn’t it dangerous, leaving him there?” she presses.
    “Billy’s time of turning has passed. There’s nothing to fear from him now.”
    “That’s debatable,” Prae smiles.
    “No. It isn’t.”
    Prae looks at her hands, crossed over her lap. Thinks a moment. Then nods at me. “I’d rather not speak in front of the boy.”
    “Is this about him?” Dervish responds.
    “Partially.”
    “Then you’ll have to.”
    “I really don’t think —” she begins.
    “Grubbs faced the demons with me,” Dervish interrupts. “He fought by my side. I’m not going to keep secrets from him.”
    “Really?” Prae sniffs. “You tell him everything about your business?”
    “No. But I don’t hide things from him. When he asks, I answer. And since I’m certain he’s going to be asking about this, he might as well stay and hear it firsthand.”
    Prae sighs. “You never make life easy for us. You’ve always treated the Lambs like enemies. We’re on the same side, Dervish. You should give us respect.”
    “I do respect you,” Dervish says. “I just don’t trust you.”
    I’d forgotten about the Lambs. They loomed large in my thoughts while Dervish was zombified, especially around the time of a full moon. If I’d found myself turning into a werewolf, I was going to phone them and ask them to put me out of my misery. But since Dervish returned, I haven’t had time to brood about my potentially fatal genes, or the family bogeymen.
    The Gradys and their kin have been cursed for a long time. We’re talking a
lot
of generations. Over the centuries, family members have tried to figure out the cause of the curse, find a cure for it, and develop ways of dealing with the infected children quietly and efficiently.
    The Lambs are the result. A group of scientists, soldiers, and I don’t know what else, all focused on the problems and logistics of lycanthropy. They spend a lot of time, money, and effort trying to unlock the secrets of the rogue Grady genes. But they also play the part of executioners when necessary.
    A lot of parents decide to kill their children if they turn into werewolves. But most