there hasn’t been any more news of outbreaks. Suyolak could be pulling far ahead of us or have left the Lincoln altogether.”

“No. He’s still ahead of us and no farther away. He’s sucking energy from the driver, trying to get stronger, to break the seals entirely. That’s why we’re catching up to them despite their head start.” Rafferty didn’t make any move to get out of the car. “I’ve got the bastard’s trail now. I feel him. Hell, I can taste him… like that sweet-sour stench of roadkill on the back of my tongue. There isn’t a place on this earth that he could shake me. Not one goddamn place.”

“You’re positive?” Niko pulled off his sunglasses and slid them into a jacket that hid many other things, most far more lethal than eyeware.

“He’s my kind. Twisted and sick as an asylum full of sociopaths, but still my kind.” He brought out his own sunglasses and he slouched back. “Bring us four of the specials. We’ll wait for the Rom caravan and Delilah.” Catcher’s ears perked up as they did every time he heard the name. Speaking of horndogs, the fact she might try to kill me didn’t make much difference to him apparently. I let it go. The fact that he couldn’t even go into the restaurant was one more reminder in years of them that he was different now. Let him lust. Delilah was worth lusting over, and in the end, whether she tried to kill me or not, she was his kind.

Wolves were for Wolves and, temporary encounters with me aside, that wasn’t going to change.

“Four specials,” I agreed. “Still coming out of your share, Chewbacca.” He yipped an obvious “Like I haven’t heard that one before,” then focused on the entrance to the parking lot, waiting for Delilah.

Rafferty stayed in the car with him with the excuse of waiting for the Rom, but we knew better; all of us, even Catcher-especially Catcher, who hadn’t had a bad spell yet, but it was only a matter of time. Robin was bitching as usual about the quality of food coming our way. “I’ve been craving Mayan food. If we were near any place civilized, like New York, we could perhaps have that.” He then looked around, carefully noting any lack of what would pass for civility in his book. “But unless we rip the still-beating heart from our enemy and braise it over the engine block of Niko’s car, I’m thinking not.”

Niko was pinching the bridge of his nose. I fished a small bottle of Tylenol out of my jacket pocket and slid it into his. He was stubborn about taking medication… body, temple, and all that… but we’d had one hell of a ride so far. There was always room for exceptions.

The place wasn’t that crowded. The gas station had a few truckers, along with postcards, shiny Mylar balloons, and fried or jerked meat, depending on how you liked it. But it was in the restaurant part where we found out how Robin liked his. We sat at the counter to give our orders when he moaned, “Temptation, thy name is truck-stop hash slinger.”

It was a rusalka. I’d seen one only once before, but rusalki did give succubi a run for their money in the sexy department. Sunshine-bright hair with one pale streak of willow green that matched the eyes- pupilless eyes, not that any humans noticed. They might notice being shorted fifteen cents on their change or goggle her amazing breasts-and they were damn amazing-but a Russian water creature in Omaha… land of no water… that escaped them.

Zdrastvutay, solnyshko moyo,” Robin said, green eyes meeting green as his smile began and widened to the size of the Big Bad Wolf, only without Granny’s best nightgown.

“Wasting your time, doll,” she replied with a midwestern accent that said she’d never seen Russia, much less drowned unwary travelers in its lakes and rivers. “Grandma was from the homeland. I was born in good old Omaha. But enough small talk. So… tell me now, what exactly can I get you?” She leaned toward us and her breasts leaned with her. The Russian might not have made an impression, but Robin himself did. Her smile was every bit as hungry as his. Niko and I might as well not have existed.

“I think that would be our cue.” Niko took my arm and we were up and back in the parking lot before I had time to grab frantically at the door handle of the bathroom, which I needed desperately.

“What the hell?” I protested. “I’m starving and unlike you, I can’t meditate my piss into good karma points.”

“Let him make his choice and then we’ll get you all the deep- fried everything you can swallow while still maintaining a continuous stream of constant complaint.” He folded his arms and stood at the curb like a statue nobly gazing into the west. Onward, wagons ho! I, on the other hand, leaned against the wall beside the glass doors. It didn’t turn out to be a wise decision. “I’ll even give you the Heimlich if the two activities conflict,” he continued.

Let him choose? I was not waiting for Robin to sort out his feelings about monogamy and hot rusalka waitresses that might drown you in a kitchen sink or a toilet if a dull moment or cultural nostalgia came along. My stomach and my bladder didn’t have that kind of time. Then again, this was Goodfellow we were talking about. He might think with his dick, but that thing must’ve had at least two hundred PhDs in field experience alone. If he was going to make up his mind, he’d be quick about-

The door swung open and I barely kept it from slamming me in the face as the puck stomped through before I had time to complete my thought. “She’s not my type. Order me the least offensive thing on the menu,” Robin snapped, and kept going. Not his type? Everyone and everything were his type.

“Monogamy,” Niko said, a hint of surprise in his voice… Niko who was never surprised. “He is actually considering it.”

I was more than surprised. I was utterly blown away in addition to nearly being flattened by the door. I felt my nose carefully, but it seemed unsquashed. “Holy crap,” I marveled, pushing the door back. “Goodfellow… Robin… just one person… monogamy?” Just one person in his life? He rarely screwed just one person in the same moment. He went through mattresses like most people went through Kleenex. “Even temporary monogamy? I think my brain just exploded.”

“Doubtful. I think you need at least two brain cells to rub together for combustion.” Nik gave me a light push. “And no matter which way he is leaning, it’s his choice. Not ours to push on him. Now, food. Bathroom. Go.”

By the time I got back to the car carrying eight or nine bags, I was in a better mood. They didn’t have a Merry Monogamy balloon in the gas station, just in case he did do something so unpucklike, but that wouldn’t stop me from having a little fun. Unfortunately, it ended up that the fun had to wait. Robin, Niko, who’d left me to do the food chore, and Salome were out of sight, which meant they were in Abelia-Roo’s RV parked on the far side of the lot. She would naturally have parked it there to limit the contamination as much as possible.

Near me-near Catcher and Rafferty, more precisely-were three truck drivers. As I dumped the bags in the front seat, one of the truckers, a brawny guy who hadn’t been on the road long enough to have made pear shape yet, said, “That ain’t no damn dog. I’ve been to zoos. I’ve seen wolves. That’s a wolf and that shit’s not legal.” The two guys with him were muttering agreement and about calling the cops and saving God’s blessed little children, like they really didn’t have anything better to do. They couldn’t go inside and eat a gallon of grease, buy some porn, and live and let live. They were the kind who could find trouble anywhere they went and make it out of thin air if it was scarce.

I knew Rafferty and Catcher didn’t need any help. Catcher could leap out of the backseat to tear out their throats in seconds. Raff wouldn’t have to move at all. He could have them gushing fluids from every orifice in their bodies with a thought… if he was in a good mood. If he wasn’t, hell, he might tie their balls in knots that no surgeon could untie. He wouldn’t, though, not really. He wasn’t Suyolak, as much as he threatened. But he was still a Wolf. Rafferty and Catcher could take care of themselves; I had no doubt. Or I could do them a favor because they were doing us a major one, what with the world saving and all.

I dropped the last bag and walked around to the back of the car as the lead sack of shit opened his mouth one more time. Maybe he was going to say he was calling the cops for sure or the dogcatcher. Maybe he was going to get his face in Catcher’s and get it ripped off, potato-shaped nose and all. I didn’t wait to see. I pulled my Desert Eagle from beneath my jacket and pressed the muzzle to his thigh where the car blocked it from sight of anyone in the restaurant. “Go away,” I said without emotion. I’d been in this situation too many times to bother to emote in Shakespearean style all over it. To shoot or not to shoot. To kill or not to kill. Whatever. I wasn’t Hamlet. I knew what I would do, and I wasn’t wringing my hands over it. “Go away now.”

Catcher’s teeth were bared, but Rafferty didn’t seem bothered, his arm stretched along the back of the seat. “Subtle’s not your middle name, is it, Cal?”

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