Lifel1k3 (Lifelike #1)(56)

Ka-chunka-chunk.

Ka-chunka-chunk.

“Eve,” Ezekiel said. “Get behind me.”

She turned at the warning note in his voice, saw the creeper in the black coat at the other end of the platform, leaning against the exit. The disembarked passengers were filtering past him, through the turnstiles and up the stairs leading to the surface. But the man’s eyes were locked firmly on Eve. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out something dark and wadded it into his cheek. She saw a red glove on his right hand. A huge black dog with thick, wild fur sat obediently on the concrete beside him.

Eve noticed the beast didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

“That’s a blitzhund,” she said.

“Who is this cowboy?” Lemon muttered.

“Capital T, I’m guessing.”

The platform was empty now. A rusty breeze whipped up the trash in the train’s wake. A globe flickered on the wall, metallic echoes rang on cracked concrete, far into the city’s belly. The billboard models smiled on inanely, faces pocked with graffiti scrawl.

“Are you a priest?” Lemon called.

The man quirked an eyebrow. Spoke with a voice like wet gravel.

“Preacher.”

“Can we help you?” Ezekiel called.

“You can.” He sniffed. “But I’m pretty cert you won’t.”

“Try me.”

“You can step aside.” The man nodded. “I got business with Miss Carpenter here. Nobody else. So if the rest of you’d like to be on your merry, well, I’d be much obliged.”

“I’m not stepping anywhere,” Ezekiel said. “Aside or otherwise.”

The man spat a stream of sticky brown onto the concrete at his feet.

“Mmmf,” he grunted.

The gun seemed to appear from nowhere. One moment, the Preacher’s hand was empty, the next, he was unloading a dozen shots at Ezekiel’s torso. The lifelike twisted away with that inhuman speed Eve had become accustomed to, but he was still too slow, three shots catching him in the chest. He toppled backward, blood spraying from the fist-sized holes in his back. Kaiser fell to the concrete beside him, yelping and growling.

“Zeke!” Eve screamed.

Two more shots rang out, the Preacher firing into the ceiling.

Concrete dust drifted around Eve’s head. The smell of blood hanging with the rust in the air. She fell still as a statue.

“Now.” The Preacher turned his pistol on Lemon. “I trust I have your full attention. The contract I accepted on you stipulates dead or alive, Miss Carpenter. And I like to take that as a challenge. But Little Red here”—the man waved his gun at Lemon’s face—“she ain’t worth more than a devil’s promise to me, breathin’ or no.”

“You’re a bounty hunter,” Lemon spat.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, darlin’.”

Eve’s eyes were on Ezekiel, sprawled on the concrete with three smoking holes in his chest. His eyes open wide and sightless. A part of her was screaming. Her breath was burning her lungs. But Eve’s mind was racing. Pulse quickening. This Preacher meant business. Rule Number Eight in the Scrap: The dead don’t fight another day.

“D-don’t hurt her,” Eve said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“There’s a clever girl.” The Preacher reached into his belt, tossed a pair of magnetic restraints onto the floor in front of her. “Now you put those bracelets on. Careful, like.”

“Evie,” Cricket begged. “Don’t do it.”

The man drew another pistol from his coat, pointed it at the little logika. “You make one more squeak, Rusty, you gonna find out true cert whether bots go to heaven or not. I’m bettin’ you’re liable to be disappointed with the answer.”

“I’m not afraid of y—”

“Crick, be quiet,” Eve said.

“Riotgrrl …”

“It’s okay, Lem.” Eve bent down, slipped the restraints around her wrists. She felt them cinch tight with a faint electric hum. “Okay, they’re on, you happy?”

“I’m always happy, darlin’. Now. Lil’ Red and Rusty. Back off. Way off.”

“Do as he says,” Eve said.

Lemon and Cricket retreated, pressed their backs against the platform wall. Lemon’s eyes were wide, face pale as death. A few chemkids bound for the next train wandered into the station, took one look at the proceedings and wandered right back out again. The man pushed himself off the doorframe, walked across the platform, the spurs on his boots ringing. The big black blitzhund prowled alongside him, eyes on Kaiser. The Preacher motioned to the exit with his pistols.

“Ladies first.”

Eve glanced at Lemon, shook her head. “Don’t let her do anything stupid, Crick.”

She took one last glance at Ezekiel in his pool of blood, tears welling in her eyes. Kaiser whimpered. “It’s okay, puppy,” she murmured, shuffling toward the exit. The Preacher took a last look around the platform, now echoing with the ka-chunkachunk of a train inbound from the other direction. He tipped his hat to Lemon and Cricket.

“Go with God, children.”

The Preacher fell into step behind Eve, pistols aimed at her back. The roar of the approaching train grew louder. The sound of boots and spurs rang on the concrete behind her. Eve heard Lemon’s bewildered curse; the skin on her neck prickled. Then came running feet, a warning growl, a damp explosion of breath.