BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖

withthe black face paint and piercings returned from the desk. "Allow me toapologize on behalf of Sir Gavin—"

"Where the hell is he?"

"As I told you downstairs—"

"Couldn't hear a damned thing down there." The captaingrimaced, refusing to give in to his paralyzed leg. He massaged it with hisfree hand. "Tell Lennox we're here, like he requested. We've got thealbino." He nodded toward the man curled on the floor outside. "If hewants to I.D. him, now would be the time."

"If he lasts that long," sneered the other Blackshirt.

"Mr. Lennox is...otherwise occupied at the moment." The SYN's way of saying he had no clue where Lennox was, noidea that Lennox could walk between worlds. Probably didn't even know that adifferent world existed.

The Blackshirt on the floor came to with a sudden curse, risingonto all fours and shaking his head sharply.

"Get up," the captain barked, even as he himself wasunable to do so. "Bring the cop killer in here. Keep him in the cornerwith the other one. Lennox must be starting a Wayist collection orsomething." The Blackshirt stumbled to his feet to do the captain'sbidding. "Don't know how this one fits in, though. You some kind ofmonk-in-training, kid? There used to be a word for that. Acolyte, maybe?Can't remember."

Harry shook his head, strands of black hair falling to cover hisright eye.

"Do you know why you're here?" The captain frowned,lowering his gun.

The synthetic employee quickly spoke up, "Mr. Lennox hasbusiness with them, both the monk and this boy."

"He's not being held against his will?" The frownremained intact as the captain looked Harry over, noticing the marks on hiswrists where he'd been tied. Other than that, there wasn't a scratch on him."What business would a high-roller like Lennox have with akid?"

"I hope you are not implying—" the employee started.

"Hey, I'm just curious is all." The captain reachedupward. "Here, give me a hand."

The SYN lent both hands to the captain who, after a few moments ofgrunting, grimacing, and cursing, managed to find his feet beneath him, asunsteady as they were. He kept the employee nearby to lean on and kept the gundown at his side. His concerned gaze never left Harry.

"My name's Captain Armstrong, kid. That guy—" He pointedwith his gun at the white monk. "—killed my cousin tonight. One of thebest local cops in this god-awful town. Run through like a damn shish kebab." Hecursed foully. Then he apologized for the language. "What's yourname?"

The Blackshirt brought the unconscious albino inside and droppedhim onto the floor. His skin was whiter than Harry had ever seen, or everthought humanly possible. He moaned upon impact, still unconscious. His facewas swollen badly, even more battered than it had looked from a distance.

With a smirk, the Blackshirt brought his heavy boot down on thewhite man's crotch. Harry winced, cringing, expecting to hear the man's screamtear through the room. But he didn't make a sound. He just opened his eyes,black in stark contrast to his skin.Without any kind of expression on his face, hereached forward with both hands and gripped the Blackshirt's ankle, twisting itin a single movement. A sickening crunch, and the Blackshirt screamed, jerkingback his boot and flailing against the wall.

"You've got a name?" Captain Armstrong didn't seem tonotice what had just happened. Or if he did, then he didn't care.

"Harry." He stared at the white manwho stared back, pale lips parted in surprise.

"And what sort of business do you have with Mr. Lennox,Harry?"

The boy blinked under the albino's direct gaze. Does herecognize me? Why would he?

"Damned freak!" The Blackshirt with the brokenankle jammed his prod into the white man's gut and held it there, leaning on itand cursing as he watched his victim writhe in agony.

Harry winced.

"You're not Lennox's supplier, are you?" The captainchuckled, oblivious again to what went on behind him.

"No." Harry swallowed. "He...killed my father, Ithink."

Cornered by the other prod-wielding Blackshirt, Kuan felt hisinsides sink at those words. No, Harry. This is not the time, nor the place.

"You think?" The captain frowned again. Thesynthetic employee grimaced, struggling beneath the full weight of the largeman leaning on him. "I'd be one hundred percent sure before I went aroundmaking accusations like that, kid. Mr. Lennox is quite an influential man inthis town." He caught himself. "But maybe you're not fromaround here. Is that it?" He paused. "Where are you from,Harry?"

"NewCity," he said. The white man was unconscious nowand curled up into a fetal position. The Blackshirt had removed the prod,leaving behind a hideous burn mark on the side of his robe. "WesternProvince, Alpha Sector."

The captain's head eased back as he watched the boy. His jawmuscle twitched beneath the beard."Well, this is NewCity," he mused aloud."But I've never heard of an Alpha Sector. This is Reeves' Province.You know who Joe Reeves is, right?"

Kuan closed his eyes and prayed the boy would not answer.

"Praying, holy man?" sneered the Blackshirt infront of him.

Kuan ignored him.

"You better pray hard." He jammed the prod into themonk's groin, causing him to double over with a groan. "Get on your knees!I might not be as holy as you, but I know a thing or two about prayer. Mymother tried raising me in the Way, and fromwhat I remember, prayers are to be done while you're kneeling." Hejabbed with the prod again and laughed out loud.

Holy Father, forgive him. Grimacing, Kuan fell tothe floor.

"He's the mayor, right?" Harry watched as Kuan wasdriven to his knees by the sadistic Blackshirt. "Mayor Reeves."

Why are they doing this? Don't they have any respect?These holy men are unarmed!

The captain snorted. "Wrong again, kid. Damn! Are you fromanother planet or something?" He chuckled dryly. "Joe Reeves is thegovernor, and my boss's boss. The Province is named after him." Hespoke slowly now, as he might to any hopped-upaddict. "Is there something wrong with your head, maybe?" He tappedhis own temple with the gun muzzle. "Everything all right in there?"

No. It wasn't.

A crescendo of high-pitched ringing blared between his ears, and adull ache had sharpened into a pain he could no longer withstand. He struggledto remain in the moment, to remain attentive to the