Free Prowlers: Wild Things by Christopher Golden Page A

neighborhood were an eclectic mix of faces and ages, from middle-aged business types to skateboard punks to hip twentyish women dressed in what he thought of as ragged glamour. A man with graying hair and the attire of a male fashion model strode confidently along the sidewalk with a violin case in his hand.
    With every tick of his watch, the sense of being out of place grew. Bill countered it with thoughts of Olivia. However vulnerable he felt, it was the smallest of sacrifices to make if it would lead to locating his niece, the beautiful girl he had held in his arms when she was just a baby. She had purred when he stroked her fur. She had grown up with a charisma and a kind of personal momentum that always reminded Bill of her mother. But as much as Bill loved his sister, he was not going to tell her daughter that.
    In his mind, he saw Olivia's golden eyes, like burnished brass. The last time he had seen her, she had been bent over an acoustic guitar, clumsily picking out a tune that sounded familiar but not familiar enough. He had been certain she would get it eventually, though. She was a determined girl.
    Bill didn't want to think about how long it had been since that day, how long it had been since he had really checked on Olivia, even to see how she was faring. It grieved him to know that he only discovered her plight secondhand. The very thought of it sent shivers of anger and sadness through him, brought the beast that much closer to the surface. If he had run his tongue over his teeth just then, he was sure he would find them jagged and sharp, and far too many for a man.
    With a deep breath, he forced the beast down. What else could he do? He could kill. He could hunt. Those things were easy. The hardest thing for him was to do what he was doing now: being patient.
    It was more than thirty-five minutes before Lao exited the club. He moved with a grace that belied his size, and perhaps that was something else that bothered Bill about him. Even amongst his own kind, Bill was used to being the most imposing presence in the room, but Lao was simply bigger. His tranquility combined with his size and that striking tiger tattoo to ominous effect. Lao made people nervous.
    The bouncers in front of the Voodoo Lounge did not even glance at Lao as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, sniffed the air for Bill's scent, then started toward him. Bill frowned. They had seen him go in, of course, and he would not be as remarkable a sight the second time around. But it seemed odd that they would not even acknowledge his departure. Bill wondered if he was recognized as someone connected to Winter, for that might explain their treatment of Lao.
    "You were in there a while," Bill said.
    Lao raised his eyebrows, the tiger at his temple rearing back, then he bowed respectfully. "My apologies, Guillaume."
    "Did you get any leads on Olivia?"
    "No one will confirm that Jasmine is holding her, but there were those within who know the girl. I did not get a sense that anyone thinks her dead."
    As he exhaled, a chill passed through Bill as though he were releasing some of his fear, that dark anticipation, along with his breath. But it was hardly over yet, he knew that. It was only beginning. Still, it was something.
    "That could mean the word is out that Jasmine has her, but no one wants to talk because of possible repercussions," Bill ventured.
    Lao bowed again, but only slightly this time. "That was my thought as well. A direct approach seems most appropriate now. I have arranged for a meeting with a member of Jasmine's pack. Alec Brand. We are to meet him at eleven o'clock."
    The beast in Bill Cantwell's heart growled low, wary. "Where?"
     
     
    Even at eleven o'clock at night midtown Manhattan was abuzz with activity. New York was called the city that never sleeps, and Bill had found that to be an accurate appellation. There were parts of Manhattan where people wandered about at all hours, moving from bar to bar to after hours party, sitting in