completed his outfit. He was a handsome black man with mahogany skin, a shaved head and piercing, almost startling green eyes. He appeared to be unarmed but I didn't need to frisk him to know he wasn't carrying any weapons. You don't need to when you are a weapon.
The first of the bounty hunters had found us.
TWELVE
The man stopped when he was within half a dozen feet of us and smiled.
'Hey, Matt. What's up? Nice coat. Good to see you finally got a little style going on.'
His voice was deep and rich and though his tone was relaxed on the surface it held an underlying current of tension. I knew exactly how he felt.
'Hey yourself, Malik,' I said, ignoring his comment about Bogdan's hand-me-down. 'It's been a while.'
'Since we tangled with the Incarnator, remember?'
'How could I forget? We had a hell of a time figuring out which body he was inhabiting. If he hadn't kept that habit of his regardless of which body he wore-'
Malik laughed. 'Right! He always kept sniffing and swallowing, like he had sinus trouble no matter who he was possessing. How weird was that?'
'Weird but useful,' I said. 'We might never have caught him otherwise.'
We'd kept our gazes locked on one another as we talked, only pretending to enjoy our little trip down memory lane. In truth we were gauging each other – opening feints that were merely a warm up for what was to come.
'Matt, who is this?' Devona asked.
I hadn't forgotten about her, but there was no way I was going to take my eyes off Malik. I continued to keep my gaze trained on him as I answered.
'This gentleman goes by the street name of Crossbreed but his friends just call him Malik. We've worked together a couple times when we had jobs that ended up overlapping. As you might've gathered we took down the Incarnator together.'
'And we recovered the Lost Shroud of Glorian, don't forget that,' Malik said.
'Neither of us got paid on that one.'
'Only because you insisted on destroying the shroud when you learned what it could do.' Malik's tone took on a colder edge as he said this.
'What can I say? I have a thing about handing over deadly magical artifacts to psychopaths, which both of our clients happened to be.'
'Maybe so, but their money would've spent as good as any sane man's.'
'Money can't buy self-respect.'
'You can't eat, drink, or screw self respect.' Malik had continued smiling as we'd talked but now his smile fell away. 'Speaking of money there's a pretty hefty price on your head these days, Matt. You've always had a knack for getting in trouble, but damn, son! Five hundred thousand darkgems' worth is serious even for you!'
I felt Devona's mind reaching for mine.
I can see that you two aren't exactly friends. Just how dan gerous is he?
Let's just say you wouldn't want to go up against him in a dark alley. Or a lit one. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Aloud, I said, 'And you've come to collect.'
He shrugged. 'Someone has to cash in. Might as well be me. No offense.'
'None taken. How did you figure you'd find me here?'
Malik's smile returned. 'Everyone else is watching your usual hangouts, but they're idiots. We may have only worked together a couple times but I know you well enough. Anyone else in your situation would've had the good sense to go into hiding, but not you. I knew you'd try to find a way out of the mess you're in and that means you need information. Since you can't make use of your regular sources, I guessed you'd go to David.' His smile widened into a grin. 'Looks like I guessed right.'
I suppose I should've expected this. With the number of people out looking for me someone was bound to have figured out where I'd go.
'Congratulations. I'm sure this'll get you a nomination for mercenary of the year.'
Malik's body spasmed from head to toe as his bones, muscles and flesh went through a rapid transformation. His green eyes turned a glowing crimson, his teeth became sharp and long, his hands sprouted deadly looking ebon claws and his skin sprouted scaled armor.
'Now you see why Malik calls himself Crossbreed,' I said to Devona. 'You know how Overkill has worked to make herself the ultimate human? Well, Malik has made himself into the ultimate monster, courtesy of the genetic expertise of the good Doctor Moreau.'
Just looking at Malik you could pick out vampire, demon and lyke in him and I'm sure there's more than a few other less obvious monster genes in the mix as well.
Devona frowned. 'I didn't think it was possible to combine the DNA of Darkfolk like that.'
Malik bared his mouthful of fangs in a savage grin and when he spoke his voice was rough and guttural.
'It's not – for anyone else, that is. Dr. M told me that every time he tried it before the subject died. But the procedure worked for me.' His smile grew wider, making him look something like a shark in humanoid form. 'Guess I'm just that tough. So, Matt… what's it going to be? You going to make this easy and come with me peacefully, or are you going to give me trouble? Please say it's the latter. It'll be more fun that way.'
'You know, Malik, finding me isn't the same thing as catching me.'
I can't draw a gun as fast as I could when I was alive, but what I now lack in speed I make up in technique. I had my. 45 out and aimed at Malik's chest before he could react. At least, that's what I told myself. But then he laughed and I knew the only reason he hadn't attacked was because he didn't consider my weapon a threat.
'You can't hurt me with that thing,' he said, sounding half amused, half insulted.
'You know the kind of ammo I pack is tailormade to put a hurt on just about any creature walking, stalking or sliming its way through the streets – and that includes you.'
'Ordinarily that would be true. But you're carrying a. 45 instead of your usual 9mm. My guess is your regular piece – along with your homemade ammo – was taken away before you were tossed into Tenebrus and what you got there is a replacement. Besides, you forget who you're talking to.' He sniffed the air a couple times. 'I can smell that the bullets are normal.'
'Oh, well. Can't blame a guy for bluffing.' I raised my gun barrel several inches and fired, emptying the contents of my weapon into Malik's face.
Greenish-black blood splattered into the air and Malik staggered backward, though he didn't fall and he didn't cry out, though the injuries he suffered had to hurt like hell. I aimed for his head because brain tissue is complex and takes more time to regenerate. It would be a few moments before Malik regrew enough of his brain to get his shit together and attack, giving Devona and me a few precious seconds in which to act.
As Malik leaned over, hands on his face to hold as much of it together as possible while he healed, blood streaming onto the sidewalk, I quickly glanced at the oncoming traffic and saw what we needed. I sent a mental image to Devona of what I wanted her to do and she stepped forward and grabbed hold of one of Malik's arms. Devona may be short and slender, but she packs a lot of muscle into her small frame and she hurled Malik into the street as if he weighed no more than a child.
As I said earlier, traffic was light that night, but 'light' doesn't mean 'nonexistent,' and Malik landed directly in the path of a silver Volkswagen Beetle covered with long sharp spikes. He still hadn't recovered enough from the gunshot wounds to his face to think clearly, and instead of getting out of the car's path, he rose to his feet and just stood there bleeding onto the street, and the VW slammed into him at full speed. Malik let out a – pardon the pun – piercing shriek of agony as he was impaled on the VW's hood spikes. The impact caused the car to swerve, but it didn't stop. The driver – who was completely hidden from view due to the spikes – managed to straighten the VW out and zoomed off with Malik still pinned screaming to its hood. One thing Nekropolitans can always be counted on for – wherever they're going, they're in a hurry to get there and they don't let anything slow them down. Certainly
