Page 26

“Stealth? You’re parking a block away! I’m not exactly built for marathons, Lanz. My legs are shorter than a Grolgath’s attention span.”

“Consider it a warm-up for your new job,” I say, cutting the engine. “Besides, you’re practically indestructible. A little walk won’t kill you.”

He grumbles something about unfair labor practices, but he gets out of the car. He fumbles with his image inducer for a second, then drops the human disguise. His furry form, a bizarre mix of ape and anteater, fills the space he previously occupied. The transformation never ceases to amuse me.

“Don’t forget about the motion sensors,” I remind him.

“Relax, big guy. With my height and fur, they’ll think I’m a deer. Or maybe a mountain lion.”

“Mountain lion is a bit of a stretch,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

“I said, go get ‘em, Lion.”

Gordo grins, showing off rows of sharp teeth. “Go get ‘em? I thought you just wanted me to look around, but I’m always up to snap some Grolgath necks.”

I stifle a laugh. Gordo, a cold-blooded assassin? The image clashes violently with his usual persona of drunken buffoon.

“Just look around, please,” I clarify. “I need a general layout of the defenses. And an idea of how many Grolgath are holed up in there. Intel, Gordo. That’s the mission.”

“You got it,” he says, and starts creeping toward the cannery, his short legs surprisingly stealthy. He melts into the shadows, a furry blur against the rusting metal of the abandoned factory.

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, checking my watch for the tenth time. Gordo's been gone twenty minutes. To distract myself, I pull out my compad and browse through an upscale chocolatier's website.

Tyler deserves something special. The finest Belgian truffles catch my eye - dark chocolate with hints of sea salt and caramel. I add two dozen roses, deep red ones that'll match the blush that spreads across her cheeks when she's flustered.

The delivery address pulls up Tyler's apartment automatically. My finger hovers over the confirm button, but I pause. Cindy. That spitfire roommate of Tyler's has been surprisingly supportive of our relationship. I add another box of chocolates to the order, these filled with champagne cream.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to Tyler,"I type in the gift message."- Alonzo"

I'm just finalizing the delivery time when something slams into the passenger door hard enough to rock the whole car.

"Drive!" Gordo's voice cracks with panic as he yanks the door open and dives inside. "Drive!"

I don't ask questions. The engine roars to life and I slam the accelerator, tires squealing against pavement. In my rearview mirror, two black SUVs burst through the cannery gates, their engines growling as they accelerate after us.

"What did you do?" I demand, taking a hard right onto the coastal highway.

"Less talking, more driving!" Gordo yelps, gripping the dashboard as we fishtail around a curve.

My supercar's engine screams as I push it harder, the speedometer climbing past a hundred and twenty. The coastal road twists ahead like a serpent, each curve more treacherous than the last. In my rearview mirror, the SUVs maintain their distance, their heavy frames better suited to these mountain switchbacks.

"What kind of defenses are we dealing with?" I ask through gritted teeth, wrestling with the steering wheel as we take another hairpin turn.

"The plasma guns?" Gordo's claws dig into the leather dashboard. "Those are just on the first level. Window dressing."

"Window dressing?" The back end fishtails and I counter-steer, tires squealing. "Those nearly took my head off last time."

"That's nothing compared to what's inside." Gordo's voice drops. "There's at least two hundred Grolgath in there, Lanz. Maybe more."

My blood runs cold. "Two hundred?" The wheel nearly slips from my grip. "That's impossible. They never gather in those numbers. The risk of detection-"

"Well, they have." Gordo glances back as one of the SUVs gains ground. "I counted them myself. Three levels of the cannery, packed with shape-shifting lizards. They're planning something big."

My mind races faster than the car. Two hundred Grolgath. An army. This is way beyond what I can handle alone. The thought of calling in Veritas, of admitting I need help, tastes bitter in my mouth. But if I survive the next ten minutes, I might not have a choice.

CHAPTER 13