75



"I didn't think it would take you so long to find the place," Bouchard says as he finishes cleaning the lens of a well-hidden camera mounted in a discreet indentation where the wall meets the ceiling. "I'm no fan of waiting around for neonates with delusions of grandeur. It suggests you aren't taking this partnership seriously. Be glad I had work to do here while I waited for you to drag that sorry carcass of yours down here."

The length of sewer stretching beneath the Greyhound station reeks of urine and food scraps, its stone walls stained with decades of dripping filth. Not that you're surprised, it is a sewer after all, but it's a particularly ripe one. You're not sure Bouchard even notices it. Maybe his facial deformities have taken away his sense of smell.

"It's been barely twenty minutes since I got your note," you say. "I came here immediately."

"Of course you did," Bouchard grunts. "Are we finished exchanging pleasantries?" He doesn't wait for a response, which is probably for the best. "Good. I've come into information that you may find useful. An attempt to undermine your sire. If Corliss falls, especially this early, your usefulness to me will be at an end."

"What is it?" you ask, suddenly anxious.

The Sewer Rat scratches a long nail down his quivering jowls as he watches your reaction. "You'll know soon enough. First, I'll have a favor from you. A token of goodwill so I'll know you're willing to spill a little blood in my name. Can you do that for me, Mekuztli?"

"I don't think so," Bouchard says. "I can act on this information myself if I have to. Not as efficiently as you could, of course, but I'm quite capable. I need to know that I can trust you first, and this is the test I have chosen for you. I need you to go to Alisha Grey's exhibit tomorrow night."

"I assume it's not to take in the show."

"You assume correctly. The basement offices below the exhibition level are run by Ms. Grey's ghoul, Ichiro. I need you to remove him for me. And by remove I mean kill."