“Jesus God, Da’!” I remembered his bloody hands in our shared dream.
He ran the backs of his claws gently over my throat. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but the hint of unbridled danger was rousing, and I shivered. “They’re still immature right now. It will take some time before they’re as long and as strong as they were before Viejo had them broken, but I promise you, their immaturity didn’t mean much to Simmons.”
And I understood how he’d managed to kill the man in that cellar. I ran a hand through my hair. “All right,” I agreed reluctantly. “But I’m only giving you half an hour. If you aren’t out of the pub by then, I’ll be coming in after you.” By this time we’d found Joe’s Noshery and went in to order a meal of fish and chips, which seemed the safest thing on the menu in spite of what Billy had told me. We took our plates to a table. “Do you think our ploy worked?”