From Endurance, available now

Fairchild looked at me. “What do you do, Nico?”

I considered telling them the truth. I work for a clandestine government agency, killing people here and abroad. “I used to be in computer design. I’m semi-retired now and work for a travel agency. Maybe you’ve heard of us? TATA? Travel And Tours Associated?” The acronym, of course, served a dual purpose, also representing my real line of work with the Tactical Anti-Terrorist Agency. And the computer part wasn’t a lie. I’d gone into computer development when I realized it would be essential to help me find Meyer. I’d designed several computers in the past, as well as made a fortune on software.

“Really?” Lucinda’s small foot bobbed, reminding me of the toddling moose. “I used to work for a computer company. Was it here in town? Maybe we know some of the same people.”

“Most of it was on the East Coast.” Unless she’d known Grace Hopper and Seymour Cray, I doubted we had anyone in common. “I’ve been out of that business for while now.” I smiled easily. “I got out before the dot-com bubble burst.”

“Nice.” Fairchild nudged Lucinda. “Did you get your shopping done?”

“No.” Her disappointment was evident. “I couldn’t find it. I don’t know what I’ll do.” She saw my confused look. “I went to that gallery down the street to see if they had a necklace. My niece had seen work by the artist before and I was told they had some of his jewelry here.”

That explained why she’d ventured into this trendy Uptown shopping district. Her company was located in a western suburb and she lived even further west, in the small town of Burnsville. When she’d left her office I’d wondered why she’d come into this congested, aggressively chic neighborhood. It didn’t seem her style.

She sighed. “Time is running out.”

For a panicked moment I wondered if she knew her death was imminent. I raised my eyebrows in question.

“Kat has a birthday soon,” she clarified. “She’s been living out of state for the last few years and she’s just come back home. I’d like to get her something special.”

“Ah. Maybe I can help. I have a friend who runs several galleries. Perhaps she can contact the artist for you.”

Lucinda shook her head. The lamp near the couch highlighted white strands mixed among her black curls. “The owner said the artist doesn’t like to be contacted except through galleries. Apparently he’s out of the country or on vacation.” Lucinda’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll have to think of something else.”

“Please. Let me help you. Give me the information about the artist and I’ll see what I can do.” I had contacts that Lucinda could only dream about. I could find the damn artist.

“I’d appreciate that.” She looked so grateful I felt momentarily guilty. I squashed the unfamiliar emotion.

“I have to get going, Slayer,” Fairchild said, setting down his coffee cup. “Can I put that table I brought for you in your car?”

“Oh, sure.” She chugged the last of her coffee, then put her coat on. By the time she’d turned to me, my business card was in my hand.

“Please call me. I’ll see what I can do.”

She glanced at the card then put it into her M&Ms wallet. “Thank you.”

I took her outstretched hand. I’d put on my gloves so felt nothing as we touched. “It was a pleasure.”

We left the warm shop. Misty snow was falling, tiny crystals that shone in the streetlights like confetti. Fairchild angled away from us, saying over one shoulder, “I’ll drive over here so we can put it in your trunk.”

Hey.

I looked around. The word was spoken very softly, as though someone was by my side, whispering in my ear.

Hey. Down here.

I looked down.

The disgustingly ugly dog was staring up at me from where he stood near a potted tree, twinkling Easter egg lights shining on his matted fur. The dog’s mouth opened and his tongue lolled out. Yeah. Me.

Damn. I was going to have to talk to him after all.

I stepped back. I’ve always avoided conversing with animals. It’s an innate ability in 22^nd century humans, but it’s one I’ve never cared to practice. It reminded me too much of Persa. As a Companion, she’d only been able to assume animal form and we’d communicated telepathically. It was too painful to relive that past.

I tried to edge by the beast on the crowded sidewalk. The pavement was slippery with newly fallen snow, making the footing dicey. The dog followed me. Listen, we need to talk.

I hurried forward. It might have fleas or some other equally unpleasant byproduct of filth. He trotted behind me, easily keeping pace. ”Is that your dog?” Lucinda asked as the animal followed us into the parking lot.

Pretty lady, the dog commented. Friend of yours?

“No, it’s a stray.” I gestured to the animal. “Go. Go home.”

The creature wagged his tail enthusiastically. Okay. Let’s go home. He was almost as large as Lucinda, and for one panicked moment I thought he’d knock her into the oncoming traffic that was trolling around the lot, looking for a parking space.

What are you worried about? That would be the perfect accident. The dog snuffled around Lucinda’s knees as she touched his head. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Kill her in an accident?

Shock rooted me to the spot until a car caught me in its headlights. I hurried to catch up with Lucinda, who was walking as she rubbed the animal’s ugly head. “Poor guy,” she said. “All cold and probably starving.” She felt around his neck. “No collar or tags. Are you a stray?” She cradled the dog’s filthy face in her mittened hands.

“It probably has fleas,” I said. “You shouldn’t touch it. You’ll need to fumigate yourself.”

That’s unkind, the dog said. It’s hard to stay clean when you live outside.

“What’s your name?” she asked the dog, ignoring me.

Cerberus, the dog answered, his sly glance flickering to me.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I muttered.

“What?” she asked, looking from the dog to me.

You’re supposed to kill her, right? On Easter? It won’t happen if you don’t listen to me. Trust me, I know these things.

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