Henry Rider: Clown Hunter

Chapter Twenty Eight

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Chapter Twenty Eight

Snapping the last row of the Escher Cube into place, I appeared in an alleyway somewhere in North Dakota. I checked my N.O.S.E. to make sure I was properly disguised, and stowed the Cube in my pocket before stepping out onto the street.

Roger Talon was my target today. Forty three years old. Blue. Five feet, nine inches tall — or he had been, at least. He'd been a manager at the Wombo World here in town before it shut down three years ago, and the letter said this was the most likely place to find him. Where those letters came from and who wrote them, even McGus couldn't say. But somehow they always knew when a klaon became a maiam, and could usually tell us where they were hiding.

"Hey, Ethan," I said as I hurried across the street toward the restaurant, "think they still have any...oh, right."

Wow. Just a couple weeks of dragging the dork around, and it already felt weird to go anywhere without him. I shook my head. All the more reason to get this over with quickly. That, and lunch.

I tried one of the doors. Locked. A quick glance around told me the area was deserted for the moment, so I drew Splatsy and smashed the door right off its hinges. I rushed inside even before all the glass had stopped falling, Splatsy raised for an attack. If the maiam was here, there was no way it hadn't heard that. But if I made sure to keep myself between it and the exit, it would have nowhere to run except face first into—

The man in the clown mask.

I recoiled in shock, nearly tripping over my own feet as he stepped out of the abandoned kitchen. In one hand, he held the same knife he'd threatened me with last night. The blade was coated with a black liquid. In the other...

"Broccoli cheese ice cream," I swore.

Roger Talon's monstrous corpse hung from his fist, as limp as a dishrag. Thick black blood dripped from its throat to splatter on the floor. With an indifferent flick of his wrist, the masked man flung it across the room so that it landed right in front of me. It began to dissolve. I looked from it to the masked man, too stunned to move. He didn't move either. For a long, tense minute, we just stood there and stared at each other.

Finally, he looked around. "Where is the boy?"

"Somewhere you'll never find him!" I snapped, tightening my grip on Splatsy.

He shook his head. "Disappointing. We seem to have wasted our time, then."

"What are you—"

"Then again," he cocked his head in thought. "Perhaps not. Let's use this chance to talk, Henry Rider."

My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would break my ribs. The Escher Cube's sharp corner was poking my leg through my pocket. Nothing was stopping me from grabbing it and warping the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks out of there. For some reason, though, I didn't. He hadn't attacked me yet. Maybe this was my chance to get a clue as to what was going on.

"Fine," I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt. "Let's start with this: give me one good reason why I shouldn't break every bone in your body!"

He nodded to the disappearing maiam. "Consider that a peace offering."

He took a sudden step forward, and I backed away, but all he did was step on the puddle of black goo that had been Roger Talon. Raising his toes, he ground his heel into it like he was crushing an annoying bug until the last few inky wisps had faded into nothingness.