days. Particularly when it comes to drug arrests. You know, it wasn't this bad
when we first joined the Guard.'
'Yes it was,' said Fisher. 'We just weren't experienced enough to recognize the
signs. There's a lot of money in drugs, and where there's a lot of money there's
a line of Guards with their hands out.'
'This day started out depressing,' said Hawk, 'and it's not getting any better.
Let's get the hell out of here and file our report. If one chacal-user can do
this much damage on a rampage, then this city is in for some interesting times.'
A low growl trembled on the air behind them. Hawk and Fisher spun round, weapons
at the ready. The tavern looked just as still and quiet as before. None of the
bodies had moved. The growl came again, but this time low and subdued, sounding
almost more like a groan. Hawk glared in the direction of the sound, and his
gaze came to rest on an overturned table leaning against a wall. It was a big
table, with room for one, maybe two, people behind it. Hawk silently indicated
the table to Fisher, and they moved slowly forward. There were no more growls or
groans, but as he drew nearer, Hawk thought he could hear something dripping.
Something… feeding.
They reached the table in a matter of moments, moving silently through the
gloom. Hawk put away his axe and grabbed the rim of the table with both hands,
while Fisher stood ready with her sword. They counted to three silently
together, and then Hawk braced himself and pulled the heavy table away from the
wall with one swift movement. Fisher moved quickly forward to stand between him
and whatever was waiting, and then both she and Hawk stood very still as the
table revealed its secret.
The second chacal-user was a young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Her face
was bone-white, with dark, staring eyes, and her hands and forearms were slick
with other people's blood. She held her hands like claws, but made no move to
attack Hawk or Fisher. Someone, presumably the other user, had ripped open her
stomach. It was a wide, hideous wound that should have killed her immediately,
but the chacal was keeping her alive. She lay propped against the wall in a
widening pool of her own blood, and as Hawk and Fisher watched she dipped a hand
into the ragged wound in her gut, pulled out a bloody morsel, and ate it.
Oh, dear God, she's been feeding on herself…
Hawk moved forward, and put a gentle restraining hand on the girl's arm. 'Don't.
Please don't.'
'Get away from her, Hawk. She's still dangerous. We don't know how many people
she's killed here.'
'Get a doctor,' said Hawk, without looking round.
'Hawk…'
'Get a doctor!'
Fisher nodded, and hurried over to the main door. Hawk put the girl's hand in
her lap, and brushed her long, stringy hair from her face. The user looked at
him for the first time.
'Something went wrong,' she said slowly, her voice barely rising above a murmur.
Hawk had to lean close to understand her. Her breath smelled of blood and
something worse. Her dead white skin was beaded with sweat. 'This wasn't
supposed to happen. They said it would make us feel like Gods. I'm cold.'
'I've sent for a doctor,' said Hawk. 'Take it easy. Save your strength.'
'They lied to us…'
'Can you tell me what happened?' said Hawk. 'You said something went wrong. What
went wrong?'
'It was a new drug. Supposed to be the best. Like chacal, only stronger. We were
going to be like Gods. We were packing it up at the factory, ready to ship it
out. Leon took some, for a lark. We tried it here, just a little. And then
everything went bad.'
'Tell me about the factory,' said Hawk. 'Where is it?'
The girl's hand drifted towards her wound again. Hawk stopped it, and put it
back in her lap. She looked at him. 'I'm cold.'
Hawk took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. She was shivering violently,
and sweat ran down her face in rivulets. There was no color left in her face.
Even her lips were white. Her breathing grew increasingly shallow, and when she
spoke Hawk had to concentrate hard to make out the words.
'Morgan's place. The Blue Dolphin. In the Hook.'
'All right, lass, take it easy. That's all I need. We'll get the bastards. You
rest now. The doctor will be here soon.'
'Would you hold my hand? Please?'
'Sure.' Hawk took off one of his gloves and held her left hand, squeezing it
comfortingly. Warm blood spilled down his wrist. 'All right?'
'Hold it up where I can see it. I can't feel it.'
Hawk started to lift her hand up before her face, but she'd stopped breathing.
He was still holding her hand when Fisher finally came back with the Guard
doctor.
'I didn't even find out her name,' said Hawk, pulling his cloak around his
shoulders. Guard Constables and Captains summoned to the scene by the
communications sorcerer spilled around Hawk and Fisher as they moved in and out
of The Crossed Pikes tavern. They were carrying out the dead and lining them up
in neat rows on the snow, ready for the meat wagon when it arrived. The Guard
doctor hovered over them like an anxious relative, making notes on cause of
death, for when the forensic sorcerer arrived. A large crowd had gathered, but
were being kept back by two Constables. Hawk knelt down suddenly, and started
roughly cleaning the blood from his hand with a handful of snow. Fisher put a
hand on his shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.
'You did all you could, Hawk.'
'I know that.'
'She killed at least a dozen people in there. Probably more.'
'I know that too.' He got to his feet and pulled his glove back on. 'Before she
died, she told me where they're making the stuff she took. It's Robbie Morgan's
place, down in the Devil's Hook.'
Fisher looked at him sharply. 'Standard procedure would be to contact
Headquarters and tell them the factory's location. Since you haven't done that,
I assume there's a good reason why not?'
'I want these bastards, Isobel. I want them bad. It's a new drug, you see; they
haven't released it yet. Can you imagine what the Northside will be like once
this super-chacal hits the streets? We've got to stop it now. While we can.'
'So let the Drug Squad handle it. That's what they're paid for.'
'Oh no; I'm not risking this one going wrong. You can guarantee some Guard would
tip Morgan off, in return for a sweetener. The Drug Squad would get there just a
little too late and find nothing but an empty warehouse. That's happened too
many times just recently. So I think we'll do this one ourselves.'
