Free The Arrivals by Melissa Marr Page B

limbs and dripping fangs bound to obey its master.
    It looked at Garuda for instructions.
    Garuda motioned it forward with a careless wave of stick-thin fingers. The gesture was elegant for their sort, but it still resembled the waving of insect legs.
    The bloedzuiger went to its master and stood motionless as Garuda withdrew the knife and tossed it toward Jack.
    He moved so it fell to the ground at his feet. “Thank you.”
    The bloedzuiger grinned and pointed out, “You missed.”
    “True.” After Jack rolled the knife in the sand with the toe of his boot, he lifted it with his left hand, being careful not to get the blood on him. Blood wasn’t as dangerous as venom, but blood from mouth wounds was liable to have venom in it. That was a problem. It wouldn’t do permanent damage unless it got into his veins, but it still blistered the skin something awful.
    Just to be safe, Jack stabbed the knife into the sand so any toxins could be wiped clean. “Are we done here, then? Just those two?”
    Garuda looked at the two hapless bloedzuigers he’d brought, smiled, and said, “I didn’t want to waste valuable time with our pleasantries.”
    There was no point arguing that defending himself against bloedzuigers wasn’t pleasant. Traditions were what they were, and expecting them to change was like thinking the second moon would disappear. Of course, Garuda wasn’t above adding a surprise attack after he’d suggested they were done, so Jack looked around before he approached the rock where the bloedzuiger perched.
    “You wanted to talk?”
    “I hear things, Jackson.” Garuda’s emaciated fingers tapped against the rock with a clicking, rasping sound. “The brethren has a benefactor who’s interested in your little pack.”
    Jack didn’t correct Garuda’s terminology. The old bloedzuiger made sense of the Arrivals by imposing his own species’ dynamics on them. It had made him decide that Jack was his equal, and that particular decision was useful more often than not. The label of a thing mattered less than the results—not that Jack could convince his baby sister of that. She had issues with Garuda that Jack didn’t understand.
    “Ajani?” Jack asked. “He was over in the Divide last I’d heard. Are you sure?”
    Garuda lifted his shoulder slightly in a small shrug. He wouldn’t accuse any Wastelander without evidence, but he obviously thought that Ajani was involved. If he believed that it was someone insignificant, he wouldn’t trouble himself to seek Jack. Such squabbles were, in bloedzuiger society, unavoidable and unimportant. There were rules, etiquette that had to be observed. Everything with bloedzuigers involved etiquette.
    “I’ll look into it,” Jack said. He’d learned years ago to take Garuda’s warnings seriously. Among the creatures that roamed the Wasteland, none had held power and influence as long as Garuda. Ajani and the governor were powerful now , but Garuda had walked the Wasteland before either of those men drew their first breaths. Of course, that also meant that the bloedzuiger had more reasons than most to mistrust both Ajani and the governor.
    Garuda stared into the distance, pointedly not looking at Jack. “Have you spoken to the governor lately?”
    “I have. I need to find the rest of the brethren and deal with the demon troubles.” Jack watched the bloedzuiger with the sort of attention that came from years of conversations between them. What was unsaid was often as useful as what was said.
    “Yet you cannot travel while your new packmate recovers,” Garuda mused. “If someone were looking for you, now would be a good time. You’ve been in one place for a while already because of the brethren. If the governor were no longer to be trusted or if the brethren were to be employed by someone who means you ill, you would be quite vulnerable right now.”
    Jack knew the bloedzuiger was suspicious of everyone, but he couldn’t see why the governor would tie himself to