Free Silver Bullet by S.M. Reine Page B

smiling. This guy wasn’t like the other Union kopides I’d run into before. They were mostly baby-faced ex-military assholes that thought the circumference of their necks bestowed all kinds of special privileges on them. You know those guys—the ones who do bicep curls in the squat racks and grunt so loudly that you can hear them all the way across the gym.
    Malcolm was older, grizzled, with no hint of vanity. He had an eye patch. His face was heavily scarred and pockmarked. Looked like he’d been to Hell and back in his time, maybe literally. And he had a sense of humor. I desperately needed to soak up the vibes of someone funny right about now.
    The helicopter lifted off and Suzy swayed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She’d mopped up some of the blood while I was changing, so I could see that she had a huge gash along her hairline. Looked like it was from getting knocked around, not from daimarachnid pincers—thankfully. If either of us had been bitten, we’d have been dead by now anyway.
    “You all right, beautiful?” Malcolm asked.
    Suzy’s brow furrowed. She looked at her hand as if expecting to see blood on it. “I’ll be fine once I’ve had a few years of sleep.”
    “Can’t do anything about the sleep, but I bet a drink or six would fix you up right. As soon as we’re off-shift, I’m buying.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. She seemed to be too exhausted to notice.
    “Where’s my knife?” she asked, massaging her temple.
    I’d picked it up for her, along with her empty Beretta. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”
    “Good.” She sagged against the seat, closing her eyes.
    “No sleeping,” Malcolm said. “You might not wake up.”
    “I’m not sleeping. Just checking my eyelids for holes.”
    “As long as you don’t die checking your eyelids for holes, that’s just dandy.”
    I kept her in the corner of my vision. I wouldn’t let her fall asleep, but if anyone deserved a few minutes of rest, it was Suzy. “We’re real grateful for your help, Malcolm, but you want to tell me how you managed to save the day in the nick of time?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Fritz called the outpost this morning. Said you guys are fresh, need some training handling demons and casting advanced magic. Wanted to see if we could spare some guys for education.” He spread his arms wide. “Here we are. I’m all about demons, and Bellamy’s all about magic.”
    Then it was lucky that I’d accidentally sparklebombed Fritz that morning. Otherwise, he might not have been annoyed enough to request a Union babysitter in time.
    Was this the man that Fritz had said was trustworthy? The one who was safe to tell about our team?
    “So you’re friends with Fritz,” I said cautiously.
    “Friends? Aye, I suppose so. Enough that he told me about his unsanctioned team and consultant, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
    Trustworthy and perceptive. “Good to have you with us.”
    “I tend to think so, yeah,” Malcolm said. Modest guy. He rubbed his hands together. “Right. So! Now that we’re mates, tell me what led to that glorious mess of a near-fatal disaster I found down there. I haven’t seen a daimarachnid nest that size in—oh, never, actually.”
    I gave him the short version of the story. He would get more useful details once Fritz debriefed him.
    “Nightmares and spiders and ethereal stone, oh my,” Malcolm said after I finished. “This is going to be a fun job.”
    “Stone what now?” I asked.
    “Ethereal stone. The white rock.”
    Ethereal? Call it sleep deprivation, call it fatigue from a near-death experience, whatever—it took me a few seconds to remember what that meant.
    If infernal was the tail on a coin, ethereal would be the head. One was demonic. The other was angelic. Two different kinds of very scary, very big power.
    “You mean, angels made that stuff we found?” I asked. “What the hell would spiders want to do with ethereal stone?”
    “Daimarachnids with a