Still Dead on Suvudu: The Dreg Files, Day 3

"What the hell is this?" Castle asked. His voice was a little too high-pitched and feminine for his thick frame, out of sync with the oily black hair and untrimmed mustache.

Tybalt closed the door and turned the deadbolt. Between himself and the two were-cats, they easily herded Castle down the narrow hall and into the living room. The odors of stale cigarette smoke and old beer stung Tybalt's nose; he could only imagine what his companions smelled.

"If this is about the fight two nights ago, I tell you again, it was a fair--" Castle started raving, the whites of his eyes showing.

Marcus smashed the butt of the gun down just above Castle's left knee, and the man fell with a pained snort. "I don't give a damn about your underground half-Blood fights," he said, danger in his voice. His golden eyes flashed, hints of his true form begging to get out and do some damage.

Tybalt crouched to eye-level, careful to keep out of kicking distance. "Mr. Castle, we're here inquiring about any contacts you've had in the last two weeks regarding the hiring of Halfies to guard something of value."

Castle couldn't stop the flash of fear that stole across his face, even though he immediately hid it behind a mask of confusion. "Don't know what you mean--"

A feline growl stopped him cold. He twisted his head to the left and came face to face with a spotted jaguar, her mouth open and saliva dripping from pencil-thick incisors. His skin went the color of rice pudding.

Tybalt hadn't heard Astrid strip or seen her change. She was fast. She was also intimidating their perp, if the wet mark spreading from his crotch to the legs of his tan trousers was any indication. The sharp odor of urine joined the apartment's melody of awful fragrances.

"Shit," Castle said.

"Are you certain you don't know what we're talking about?" Tybalt asked.

Castle licked his lips as a fine sheen of sweat broke across his forehead. "I, uh...if you don't catch them, I'm dead."

Astrid growled, mimicking her quarry with a long, slow roll of her tongue over teeth. Castle started breathing harder.

"You're dead if you don't cooperate with us right now," Marcus said.

Tybalt did not doubt Marcus's sincerity. Both of the Felia in his company would gladly rip the cowering man to shreds for his involvement in the abduction of a Clan member. As a Triad Hunter, though, Tybalt was duty-bound to stop them. Triads protected the city's human population from the Dregs. Open attack of humans was a crime punishable by death to any Dreg who was caught doing it--were, vampire, half-Blood, goblin, all faced the same end. In his four years as a Hunter, Tybalt had never hesitated to fulfill his duty.

He'd also never had to execute one of the Felia. Could he kill two of his dearest childhood friends?

He didn't care to find himself faced with answering such a question. "Mr. Castle," Tybalt said more firmly than before, "we're under a bit of a time crunch here. So my advice is this: if you want to live, tell us what we want to know before my companion gets twitchy. Then do not leave this apartment for the next two days. Trust me, the people we're looking for won't be coming after you once we're through with them."

Castle's gaze flickered around the room, lingering on Tybalt the longest, until he heaved a put-upon sigh. "Guy approached me last week with a big wad of cash in his fist," he said in a tone he might use if confessing to a multiple murder--flat and beaten. "Said he needed at least four half-Bloods he could trust to sit on a package and not eat it. Cash was mine if I could give him the names next day. I said I'd have them in a couple of hours. Brought seven of the oldest, most controlled I knew. He picked four, gave me the money, and said if I talked I'd end up as kitty kibble."

He glanced at Astrid, his face ashen. "I thought for a minute he sent you guys to kill me anyway. I don't like messing with Clan business. Nothing but trouble, that."

"Wise words," Tybalt said. "You get a name?"

"Smith."

Marcus snorted.

Tybalt ignored him. "What did he look like?"

"Average white guy, maybe your height, brown hair and eyes. Nothing real special."

It could describe Prentiss, as well as several thousand other people in the city. "Those Halfies you hired out have been bragging around like frat boys who just banged the head cheerleader. Who would they brag to about what they're babysitting? Who'd know where they are?"

"No way. I snitch on them, and I might as well pack up and leave the city."

"At least you'd be leaving with your life intact. You know dangerous people, Mr. Castle, and you live on the edge of the law. Maybe it's time to reconsider your career choices and put down roots someplace else." Tybalt was outside of his usual Hunter territory, and he knew he was stepping on uneven ground with his statements. He'd found Castle because other Hunters knew about him--if they were watching Castle or using him for information, he was going against Triad policy. They'd know it was him.

He was torn.

"After we've gone, you'll have plenty of time to ponder your life," Marcus said. "Right now, you have thirty seconds before my feline companion finds out what your fingers taste like. One at a time."

Castle made a sad choking sound and fastened his watery stare on Tybalt. "Them I expect this from, kid, but you? Getting leaned on by another human who's playing with animals?"

Astrid growled.

Tybalt bristled, his right hand twitching, eager to strike and release the furious swirl of emotions bubbling inside him. "Ironic coming from someone so deep in with the godforsaken Halfies. You gave up your Human Race membership card when you started turning the misfortune of others into a high-stakes gambling sport, so save me your indignation. Where?"

"Southbank Street," Castle said. His lips curled back from his teeth. "Between Falston and Granger. A bunch of them nest in the basement of the Vinyl Store."

"Vinyl Store?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, vinyl, records, LP's. You heard of them, kitty cat?"

This time Marcus growled--a sound so deep in his chest that Tybalt knew it was his jaguar aching to get out. "All right then," Marcus said. "As much as I'd like to say thanks and I trust you to not rat us out the second we leave your apartment"--he slammed the butt of his gun against the back of Castle's head, and the large man crumpled to the floor--"I don't."

Sheer habit had Tybalt crouching long enough to find a steady pulse. As he stood up, he got a peripheral eye-full of a very naked Astrid standing a few feet away, dressing. He angled away from her and didn't realize he had his cell phone out and open until Marcus asked, "Who are you calling?"

Tybalt gazed at the phone. He'd been about to call his boss and Handler, Gina Kismet. She led and looked out for his Triad, and years of training told him to report Howard Castle so she could take appropriate measures to ensure the real police picked him up. He put the phone back in his jeans pocket. If he made the call, Castle might tell her who he'd been here with and why. He couldn't risk Triad interference, not yet. He wasn't even supposed to be involved in Clan business, and after the mess the Triads made at the Sunset Terrace Apartments last week, none of the were-Clans trusted humans.

"No one," he finally said. "Habit." When Marcus produced his own phone, Tybalt stared. "Who are you calling?"

"Someone to come pick up this piece of shit," Marcus replied. "We will need him to testify to the Pride, in order to discredit Prentiss's challenge."

Astrid joined them, shooting Marcus a baleful look. "Eat his fingers? Really?"

Marcus shrugged as he dialed. "He believed it."

"Gross."

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