The Ouroboros Cycle, Book Two: A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires. G.D. Falksen

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СКАЧАТЬ again, gurgling incoherently, and ran for the street.

      Luka smiled to himself. It was nice to have some action again.

      “Ye just gonne let him go?” asked a voice behind him.

      Luka turned and saw the girl standing at the edge of the light. She took a hesitant step toward him and looked up at him with wide green eyes.

      “I suppose I ought te thank ye,” she said.

      “No need,” Luka said. “I did what had to be done.” He stretched out his hand to her and said, “Come, this is no place to be. Let us find a hot meal.”

      The girl laughed and said, “Oh, aye. Thought ye’d ask.”

      Rather than taking Luka’s hand, she took him by the arm. Luka was surprised for a moment, but he said nothing and simply led the way back toward Perrott Street, carefully stepping over the bodies along the way.

      “Mind ye,” the girl said, “’twill be the first time a customer’s offered me dinner as well.” She looked at him sternly and pointed with her finger. “An’ donne think that means y’ain’t gotte pay, neither.”

      “A meal is just a meal,” Luka said.

      The girl winked at him and said, “’Course ’tis.”

      “What’s your name, girl?” Luka asked, as they reached the street.

      “Ye got a pref’rence?” the girl asked playfully.

      “Yes,” Luka said. “Your real name.”

      The girl hesitated before replying, “Cat.”

      “Cat what?”

      “Why d’ye care?” the girl asked, looking up at him.

      “Because, dear girl,” Luka said, “you showed spirit back there, and you didn’t run when you had the chance. I find that interesting, which makes me find you interesting. But if you prefer, we can part company here and never speak of it again.”

      The girl frowned at him and narrowed her eyes. She thought hard for a few moments before saying, “Caitlin Mackenzie.”

      “Thank you,” Luka said. “And you may call me Luka.”

      “Jus’ Luka?” Cat asked.

      Luka nodded. “Just Luka.”

      “Think I’ll call ye Mister Luka,” Cat said. “Ye bein’ all distinguished an’ killin’ folk an’ such.”

      Luka laughed aloud at this.

      “Tell me, Mister Luka,” Cat said, “why didne ye kill that last fellow?” She looked away, her pretty face momentarily marred by a scowl. “I’d ’a done.”

      “I can hardly kill every criminal in London, can I?” Luka asked.

      Cat smiled at him and said, “Oh, I donno.…”

      “Don’t flatter me girl,” Luka said. “It’s unnecessary. No, I cannot have every gang in London trying to muscle its way in here. I would be so busy fighting, I’d get nothing done. I killed that fellow Higgins’s men and let him go so he could warn off the rest of his kind for me. Any who do venture in, I shall deal with just as I dealt with them. Eventually, most will be too afraid to bother me. And those that do.…”

      Cat grinned at him and drew her thumb across her throat.

      “Aye?” she asked.

      “Aye.”

      “So why ye tellin’ me all this?” Cat asked.

      “Because you asked,” Luka said. “And because the more people who know, the better. I want every criminal in London to know just what I will do to them if they break my peace.” He smiled slightly. “Besides, my girl, you will be a messenger for me as well. But of a rather different sort.”

      “Wha’?” Cat asked.

      Luka stopped outside the Old Jago Pub and said, “I will explain over dinner. Come along. My table should be waiting.”

      “Here, this is Mister Jones’s place,” Cat said.

      “Yes,” Luka agreed. “And now that he’s gone, it’s mine.”

      * * * *

      Despite her spindly appearance, Cat proved to have a remarkable appetite. The food at the Old Jago was of noticeably poor flavor and quality, yet the girl devoured it like a half-starved animal. Not a surprise, perhaps, but Luka was startled as he watched her tuck away three bowls of beef stew and a sizable chunk of bread. She ate too fast to say anything, and Luka found no reason to speak, so they ate in silence, Luka reading a newspaper and occasionally watching Cat’s voracious display with an upraised eyebrow.

      Midway through her third bowl, Cat looked up and noticed him watching her. She blushed slightly and glared at him.

      “Wha’s it?” she demanded. “Ye like watchin’ girls eat or somethin’?”

      “I have never before seen someone devour the food of this establishment with such enthusiasm,” Luka said. “When was your last meal?”

      “Yesterday,” Cat said between bites. “Mornin’.”

      Luka refilled his glass of wine and asked, “How can that be? I know the situation of your sort of woman is difficult, but you are young, pretty—”

      “Such a flatterer,” Cat said coyly.

      “Surely you earn enough money to feed, house, and clothe yourself,” Luka continued, though in fact none of those three seemed very likely from her appearance. “More wine?” he asked, lifting the bottle toward her glass.

      Cat paused in the midst of biting off a mouthful of bread and nodded with great enthusiasm. Swallowing, she asked, “Or have ye any gin?”

      An affection for drink. That explained it.

      “Gin?” Luka asked. “I expect so, but you would have to ask Thackery.” He nodded at the barman. Luka took a sip of wine before adding, “I thought you Scots preferred whiskey.”

      “I may have been born in Scotland,” Cat said, “but I learned te drink here. Hate whisky. Gin’s the stuff fer me.”

      “Tonight make due with wine,” Luka said, refilling her glass. “It’s better for you. Even this stuff.”

      “Won’t say no,” Cat replied, grinning. She raised the glass to her lips and swallowed a quarter of it in one long gulp.

      Luka ate a spoonful of stew. It was his second bowl, despite the poor quality of the food—he was hungry as well.

      “I am surprised that you aren’t comfortably ensconced in a brothel somewhere,” he said. “I thought it was only the older women of your profession who were forced to work the streets.”

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