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Chapter Six: Kiowa Xenogenetics

Tucson, Arizona.

Night of November 6.

Sunrise: 6:45 a.m.

You drive the Nissan around your parking lot a few times, getting a feel for it as the lights come on all over Tucson.

The truck handles like a bucket of KFC sliding across a hockey rink, which is what you expect after paying less than $1,000 for a vehicle this new. The warped interior panels indicate that someone rebuilt this Frontier after a collision that should have totaled it. But the electronics work, and it's nice to have Bluetooth. (The Bluetooth doesn't work, but it's nice to know it's there.) At least you're high enough off the road to see around all the Chevy Silverados and Ford Raptors.

You spot the Viper nightclub, accelerate hard, and scream to a halt outside. It's still early and the party won't start for hours, but Lettow is already awake. His eagle, Riga, is perched nearby.

You double-check your maps. A few minutes later, a mortal flunkie in an Ed Hardy shirt runs up to your Nissan with a portable push button lock box.

You peel out.

It's a nine-hour drive, and you've researched motels and abandoned buildings starting at Albuquerque in case traffic or trouble leaves you stranded.

Fortunately, traffic is light. You drive east on the 10 and pass the spot where you ditched your Honda CR-X. Idly curious, you spend twenty minutes exploring the abandoned filling station, but the wight is long gone. You wonder if Dove was able to track down her sire.

When you pass a garage marked with Julian Sim's karambit, you think about your old friend. You shut him down this morning, but you don't think you've closed any doors yet. You don't trust Julian, of course, but he might be able to offer you insight into the Invidia Caul situation.