City of the Snakes Read Online Free Page A

Thursday and Saturday, schedule permitting. I use the Kargan pool—not conveniently situated, but it’s longer than most. You can really stretch yourself there.”
    “Fascinating,” Ford grunts impatiently. “The women?”
    “They’d been sitting by the side of the pool for ages. I didn’t pay much attention. It was only when I paused at the end of a lap to catch my breath that I saw them. I was dumbstruck. I stood in the water at the shallow end, mesmerized, for maybe five minutes, until they rose and slipped into the changing room. Then I charged after them and tore the place apart.”
    “I bet that made you popular with the ladies,” Ford comments drily. “But it was for nothing, right? You couldn’t find them?”
    “Not a trace,” I sigh. “That’s when I started to think I might be losing it. I had myself checked and drew a clear bill of health, but that was little consolation. I spotted them several times over the next few weeks, together, with Y Tse, singly. I ignored them. Didn’t waste time giving chase. I figured, if they were products of my imagination, running after them was useless. If they were real, they’d make contact in their own time. Then this.” I pass the photograph of Paucar Wami to him.
    “Al Jeery,” he says immediately. Ford knew Jeery too, before the guy lost his marbles and took to the streets as Paucar Wami. Thought highly of him. I wanted to drag Jeery in, find out what he knew about the Ayuamarcans. Ford convinced me to leave him alone—said the guy had been through enough.
    “Look again,” I tell him, and he studies the photo some more.
    “It’s like Al,” he rumbles, “but it’s not. Some guy made up to resemble him?”
    “Maybe. Or maybe this is the guy Jeery made himself up to look like—the real Paucar Wami.”
    “I thought Wami was a myth,” Ford says uneasily. Like some other people, he has vague recollections of the serial killer. I don’t know how fragments of Wami’s existence survived The Cardinal’s passing, but they did. He’s not a substantial figure—he exists in the minds of those who knew him as a creature of shadows—but part of his evil legacy lives on.
    “Wami was real, an Ayuamarcan. And on the basis of that photo, he’s back.”
    “You’re sure it’s not a ringer?”
    “He’s not someone you forget in a hurry. That’s Paucar Wami. I’d stake my life on it. And if he’s real, the others probably are too.”
    Ford passes back the photo. “I don’t understand this—I never really did—but let’s say it’s on the level. Why does it bother you?”
    “Wouldn’t you be bothered if ghosts returned to haunt you?” I snap.
    “Sure, but I’m human. I can be killed, so I’d have reason to worry. You don’t.”
    “I’m not so certain I believe that anymore,” I mumble. “The Cardinal made me immortal, but he reserved the power to destroy me. He could have wiped me out before he died, if he’d had a mind to. If someone else has the same kind of power—and if Wami and the others are real, only somebody as gifted as The Cardinal could have brought them back—maybe they can eradicate me too.”
    Ford’s good eye half closes. “Didn’t think of that.”
    “I didn’t either until this photo materialized. Now it’s all I can think about.”
    Ford chuckles bleakly. “How does it feel to be faced with mortality again? Must be a shock after all these years.”
    “Don’t mock me,” I growl, but he only laughs at my tone.
    “That explains why your knees are shaking. But why come to me about this? If the Grim Reaper’s got you in his sights, what can I do to help?”
    “The
villacs
must be behind this. I need to find them, confront them, stop them. But I can’t chase the priests and run this city at the same time. I need someone to—”
    “Whoa!” Ford stops me. “If this is going where I think it is, forget it.”
    “I need you,” I press. “Frank’s back in charge of the Troops. He’ll do a good job, but