Broken (Otherworld 6)

"Try that again," Clay hissed against his ear, "and I--"

The man wrenched forward, as if still trying to attack Jeremy, but so far away that Jeremy didn't even move. Clay jerked the man back, more warning than genuine effort. A sensible man would have felt that iron grip, seen how far he was from his target and noticed he'd lost his chance at a surprise attack. But he kept struggling, kicking and swinging. When his fist swung a little too close to me, Clay jerked him back, hard. A dull snap, like the crunch of celery. The man went limp in Clay's grip.

"Goddamn it!" Clay muttered, teeth clenched to keep his voice down. "I'm sorry, Jer. I didn't mean--"

Jeremy waved off the apology and took the knife as Clay lowered the body to the ground.

"Standard self-defense advice," I said. "Never let yourself be taken to the second location. He knew we weren't taking him there for a pleasant chat."

Jeremy nodded, then knelt and put his fingers to his neck.

"Dead?" I said.

"Presuming he had a pulse before." As he backed up onto his haunches, his nose wrinkled.

"Smells pretty ripe, huh? Maybe it's just me, but I swear it's getting stronger."

"It's certainly not getting better." Jeremy looked around. "We'll need to dispose of the body..."

"Swamp's best," Clay said. "Unless you want him to take a little trip in the back of a transport."

The man moved. I jumped forward instinctively, getting between Jeremy and danger. Clay stomped on the man's neck. His foot passed clean through to the ground.

"What the--?"

The body jerked again and this time, we saw that the movement was the man's body collapsing into itself like a rotting melon. There was a whispering crackle as the body stiffened and went hard. Then it just...disintegrated.

"Huh, guess that solves the disposal problem." Clay watched the sprinkling of dust settle into the grass. "Wish all my corpses would do that."

"Now is anyone still going to tell me he was just a normal guy?" I said.

"Doesn't matter." Clay waved at the grass. "Threat eliminated...or disintegrated."

"That's it? We just blow away the dust and go home?"

"Far as I'm concerned."

I looked at Jeremy. He finished wiping off the knife, then whipped it. The knife flew about a hundred feet before landing in the swamp with a splash. Perfect aim, as always.

"Elena? I'd like you to follow his trail. Perhaps we can figure out how he got here...and make sure he came alone."

That was easy. Not only did the taint of rot give it away, but his path went straight around the south side of the service center and into the front lot. He'd known exactly where I was.

The trail led to the nearly empty northeast corner. Only one car was there--a burgundy midsize with

Ontario plates. As we drew closer, I could see red streaks on the driver-side window.

"Don't slow down," Jeremy murmured as the three of us continued our "stroll." "When we walk alongside it, glance inside, but we'll keep heading for the road."

We knew what we'd see when we passed the car, and we weren't wrong. A man's body lay stretched over the front seats, pushed down out of sight, his wide eyes staring at the roof, throat gaping open.

"Keep going," Jeremy murmured.

We walked to the road, then headed along the front of the service center.

"Chauffeured at knifepoint," I said.

"So it would appear," Jeremy said. "I was keeping a watch behind us, but I don't recall seeing that vehicle--or seeing it for long enough to appear suspicious."