MudMan (The Golem Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

Generally, Levi was terrible with people, but he was more than a passable actor when the need arose. He’d learned early on that survival in the world of men meant being able to blend in. To go unnoticed. So he’d learned to mimic emotion in the same way he mimicked faces.

“It’s alright, Miss Ryder,” he said for the benefit of both the station nurse and the loitering Kobos. “This won’t take long. We’ve just got a few suspects we need you to come down and take a look at, see if you recognize anyone.”

“Of course,” she replied, her arms once again hugged tight around her torso.

“Excuse me,” the nurse said, sliding her glasses down onto the bridge of her nose. “Where exactly do you think you’re taking her? Obviously you’re new to the job, because this young lady hasn’t been cleared yet. And if the attending physician doesn’t clear her, she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Levi replied evenly, “but this is a time sensitive matter, and we really need Miss Ryder’s help. Once we’re done I’ll have another officer bring her back by.”

The nurse frowned, forehead creased, as she stared over the top edge of her glasses at Levi. Her hand moved close to the desk phone, hanging there as if she were trying to decide whether to call security or give him a pass. “Alright,” she said at last, suspicion still carved into every line of her body. “But I’ll need your name and badge number for the log so I know who to blame when the doctor comes by.”

“Sure, sure.” He puffed out his chest, offering her a solid view of the phony shield. “It’s Officer Adams, badge number 2109.” He smiled, every inch the professional. She carefully jotted the information down, clearly not won over.

“Officer Adams, I expect Miss Ryder to be back here and in bed in no more than two hours. You understand that? She’s still recovering from a traumatic accident, and though I understand you have a job to do, my job is to take care of my patients. So, if she’s not back in two hours”—she held up two fingers—“your sergeant will get an earful.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Levi replied, his grin faltering and slipping away. “Two hours.”

The salty nurse nodded her approval and promptly went back to work on her computer, fingers clacking away on the keyboard once more.

Levi took Ryder by the elbow and steered her toward the elevator bank. The Kobos were waiting, leaning casually against the wall, dark scowls marring their already ugly faces. Levi pretended not to notice.

He and Ryder rode down to the ground level and stepped off the elevator only to find another pair of lopsided men, more Kobos, waiting for them. Levi offered these two friendly smiles, then curtly moved on, guiding Ryder toward the front exit, but keeping the pace casual, all in a bid to keep the Kobos from growing antsy or suspicious. He even spared a quick moment to stop by the information desk and thank the young man who’d been so helpful.

The whole act, which is precisely what it was, said plainly enough,
There’s nothing to worry about, this is all just standard operating procedure.

After a few tense minutes in the building lobby, they ambled past the sliding glass entryway doors and found themselves in a beautiful Colorado day: warm, but not unpleasantly so; sunshine colored the landscape with bright yellows, while a flawless blue sky stretched endlessly onward, framed on the west by the jagged peaks of the Rockies. They hooked left, angling toward the parking garage, though he kept to the sidewalk and maintained their leisurely pace. Ryder fidgeted as they walked, as though the reptilian part of her brain demanded she start running, fleeing from the unseen hunters stalking them.

The Mudman glanced back—the two Kobocks from the main lobby were tailing them, though keeping a safe distance—then leaned into Ryder. “Stop. Wiggling. What part of stay calm and act natural didn’t you understand?”

She pulled away from him with a jerk and narrowed her eyes. “This
is
natural. Take a look at me. Do I look like the kinda person who hangs out, all buddy-buddy, with cops? The answer,” she continued without hesitation, “is hell no. Most cops, they see someone like me and they think junkie or dealer or whore. So, if you want things to look natural, stop being so nice to me.”

Levi pushed up beside her, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder and another around one arm—a bouncer escorting a troublemaker from a bar.

“Besides,” she whispered as they walked, “I don’t see any of the assholes that took me. Think they’d kinda stick out around here.”

“They’re in disguise,” he replied. “Kind of like me. Now close your mouth until we get to the car—wouldn’t want the wrong pair of ears hearing what they shouldn’t.”

They paused at the crosswalk, waited for a big ol’ Ford on too-large tires to roll by, then crossed the patch of black asphalt and strode into the blocky concrete parking garage. Levi stole another quick look over one shoulder as they moved: the Kobocks, shadowing them, were closer now, maybe ten feet back and moving in. If these things were determined to walk away from the hospital with Ryder in hand, and Levi had no reason to assume otherwise, then a parking garage was a good place for them to make their move.

Likely, a lone Rube cop wouldn’t be enough to deter them.

A stairwell would be perfect for an attack—an enclosed space with few, if any, cameras and little room to maneuver or run. Knowing that, Levi headed for the elevators instead. He pressed the button and let out a slight sigh of relief when the doors slid open an eyeblink later—the car had already been on the ground floor. A small but fortunate break. He shoved Ryder in, slid in behind her, then wheeled about, jamming down the fifth floor button, followed in short succession by the “close door” button. The Kobocks were five feet out when the metal door ghosted shut.

Ryder doubled over and clutched her knees, her breathing rapid and panicked. “Holy shit that was intense. Those two guys? Was that them?”

“Yeah. They can look like men or women when they have a mind to, but that was them alright.”

“Holy shit,” she said again, before straightening.

The elevator
dinged
and the doors parted, depositing them high up in the parking garage, well away from their enemies—temporarily stranded on the ground level—and a few feet from Levi’s minivan, just on the other side of a concrete partition.

“Come on.” He ushered her onward with one hand as he trotted over to the minivan, pulling out his keys and pressing the fob—the van let out a little
chirp-chirp
in reply. “This is us,” he said, slipping into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over.

“Nope.” She shook her head, eyeing the van. “No way in hell I’m getting into that rape van. Seriously, do you have any idea how many red flags are going up right now? Climbing into a sketchy van with some old creeper in a dark parking garage. This whole situation”—she threw both hands up—“violates like every single rule of surviving on the road.”

“It’s either in here with me or out there with them,” Levi replied, not bothering to validate her comment. Besides, he wasn’t that creepy, and neither was the minivan. Comfortable captain-style seating, a rear DVD player, good gas mileage, and fold-down seating. Nothing weird about that.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She rolled her eyes. “My sister would kill me if she knew.” Ryder opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

“No,” Levi said. “Crawl into the backseat and put your head down.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, skepticism coating the words. “I’m not climbing into the backseat and ‘putting my head down.’” She air quoted the words. “Not to be an ungrateful asshole or anything, but you’ve got this I’m-going-to-murder-you-and-bury-you-in-my-backyard vibe going on, so hiding in the back until you can drive me to your dump site isn’t on the agenda. I wanna be up here so if you try anything fishy, I can jack the steering wheel and flip the car. Or something. But I think you get the general idea.”

Levi ground his teeth. He’d never had a human ride-along when it came to the supernatural side of his existence and so far he was badly regretting the decision. “Stop talking and get into the backseat. So they won’t see you,” he said, a teacher instructing a stubborn child. “We’re escaping, remember? Besides, if I wanted you dead, I could’ve left you to die down in the dark. I could’ve left you strapped to that table with your guts hanging out, waiting to end up like the other poor souls down there. So get into the backseat. Now.” He hooked a thumb toward the rear of the vehicle.

“I appreciate you not
leaving me to die—you’re a real Good Samaritan—but that doesn’t mean I trust you. Don’t forget, you’re a shapeshifting killer. Besides, they’ll recognize you even if they don’t see me,” she replied, making no move to leave the front seat, “so moot point.”

He shifted in a blink, resuming the appearance he thought of as his church face: balding, mustached, potbellied, and bespectacled. Theoretically, he could shift into almost any form, but it took loads of concentration, and those forms he wore most often were the easiest to maintain. He had fifteen faces, fifteen forms, he used interchangeably, so those were the looks he reverted to on instinct, but his church face was the easiest by far.

Her mouth dropped open an inch, then two. “Shapeshifter. Right. Okay, guy, you’re the boss.” Without further argument, she shimmied into the back, lying down flat on the carpeted floor. Levi slammed the van into gear and pulled out of the space, but not before the elevator door dinged opened and the two Kobos stepped out. Levi looked different and Ryder was thankfully absent, but this level of the garage was otherwise empty. They were the only people leaving.

He locked eyes with the masquerading Kobos as he rounded the corner, and knew in his gut they’d been made.

One of the lopsided strangers dug into his pocket, drew out a disposable brick phone, punched a few buttons, and lifted the cell to his ear. Calling for reinforcements, no doubt. Likely, more of their ilk were waiting in a car somewhere not far from here. Bad luck, that. Levi’s initial inclination was to slip and squeal around the turns, to get out of the garage as fast as the van would take them, but, he reminded himself, that would only serve to identify them all the easier.

As with their exit from the hospital proper, calm and collected would serve them far better than madcap action-star stunts. So he drove cautiously, slowly. He was a man in no particular hurry who had nothing whatsoever to hide. Hopefully, if he played things right, the pair down yonder wouldn’t notice him at all.

He pulled out of the garage and turned onto the main street running in front of the hospital, making sure to obey all posted road signs and use his blinkers. It took all of thirty seconds before a beat-up Explorer and a silver Cadillac Deville pulled onto the road, weaving around slower moving traffic, quickly eating up the distance between them. Levi’s hands tightened on the wheel, which
creaked
under the pressure. If only Ryder had been faster, done as she’d been told without so many questions, they would’ve been free and clear.

It was important to follow instructions. To follow rules. There were consequences, always consequences, for disobedience. Done was done, though.
Gam zu l'tova
.
This too is for the good
, he told himself.

He curved right—still driving slowly, carefully, hoping he might salvage this mess somehow—and pulled into the left turn lane, which let out onto Colfax Avenue. Naturally, the turn arrow was red, pinning them in place since he refused to run the light. The car hummed quietly beneath him as he patiently waited for the arrow to turn green. A moment later, both the Explorer and the Cadillac pulled up behind him. The Explorer was closest and sported tints so dark they entirely concealed the driver—Levi was certain they were illegal.

It didn’t matter. Even if he couldn’t see the filthy Kobocks driving the SUV, he could feel the taint of their presence in his bones and feel the hot gaze of their hate on the nape of his neck.

Finally, the turn arrow flashed green, and Levi pulled away, maneuvering into the left-most lane.

“What’s the deal? Can I come up now?” Ryder asked, voice muffled.

He considered saying
no
out of annoyance, since this fiasco was mostly her fault, but then mumbled a reluctant “Yes.” She was new to this world, and given the circumstances, he supposed her distrust was reasonable. After all, she’d recently been kidnapped, held captive, and dissected by blue-skinned monsters. Had he been in her position, he would have been suspicious, too. It wouldn’t be right to punish her for trusting her survival instinct, even if, in this instance, her instinct had been wrong. “We’re already being followed,” he conceded, “so it doesn’t matter if you’re seen now or not.”

Her head popped up, and she wiggled into the passenger seat before looking back. “The Explorer and the Caddy?”

“Obviously,” he said. “Now buckle your seat belt. It’s the law.”

She stole a sidelong peek at him, one eyebrow cocked. “The law’s made to be broken, Big Guy,” she said. Still, she complied, wriggling around for a moment before snapping the belt into place and resuming her scan of the road behind.

“So those guys we saw, they’re the blue-thingies who did this to me?” She absently motioned at her stomach, at the slash currently concealed by the baggy white shirt.

“The Kobock Nation,” Levi said. “That’s what they call themselves.” He angled the van sharply, cutting hard right all the way across traffic and onto the entrance ramp for freeway I-225 North. The Explorer and Deville followed suit, merging on behind a handful of seconds later.

“And Kobocks are?” she asked.

“Kobos for short. Sort of like Goblins. Live in the Deep Downs of the Hub.”

“’Kay. Let’s try a different approach. How about you pretend I don’t know anything at
all—
because, gee, I don’t know anything at all—and just explain every weird thing you say? How’s that sound?”

“Not a good time for this conversation,” the Mudman replied, knuckles still vice-grip tight on the steering wheel while his eyes flickered over the rearview mirror. He smashed down the gas and swerved left, boldly darting across three lanes of traffic, trying to draw away from their pursuers. The van was great for a lot of things, but no one would ever mistake the vehicle for a hot-rod roadster. The Explorer and Cadillac had no difficulty keeping up. He pushed it to seventy and held fast, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention from local authorities, while he cruised toward the I-70 interchange.