Page 3 of Lime Gelatin and Other Monsters
“I’ll drive.”
Soren sipped the coffee he’d snagged from a nearby food truck, apparently having reached the conclusion everyone else did with one sip of Larry’s coffee. It was on par with wood varnish. “You sure you can reach the pedals?”
Kyle stared at him. If he hadn’t seen the man’s mouth move, he would’ve sworn he’d imagined those words. “I amnotshort.”
One perfect black eyebrow rose a fraction.
“I’m average. Sure you’ll fit in the car?” Kyle shot back, knowing it was childish.
Soren merely smiled without showing his teeth. It wasn’t even a pissed-off, tight smile—more like the serene expression on a statue of some ancient, smugly contented god. He folded his long frame into the passenger seat without another word.
I think I hate him.He’d better have some serious flaws, or I’m really going to hate him.
Even his posture sitting in the squad car was perfect. Kyle kept his attention on the Market Street traffic, trying to unclench his jaw.
They’d almost reached the Schuylkill River when Soren, in a voice barely loud enough for conversation, asked, “Island of Misfit Freaks?”
“That’s what you’ve been chewing on all this time?”
“Yes.” Soren sipped his coffee, a little V forming between his perfect black eyebrows. “I think I was expecting something…else.”
Kyle blew out an explosive breath. Yeah, he got that. “I did, too, when they transferred me. I mean, you hear about other cities, and it’s more X-Files, right? And if there’s any paranormal cops from Philly with useful talents, they probably get shipped somewhere else. But here, sorry, no. You’re stuck with the rejects.”
“I understand why you’d be a problem.” Soren held up a hand when Kyle sputtered. “Dangerous thing you do, which you can’t control, it seems. But the others?”
“Yeah. All of them. Us.” Kyle winced at the slip. Four months in this precinct and he still felt like an outsider. “Virago? The one who got chewed out this morning? He’s a firestarter.”
“All right. But that doesn’t sound so odd.”
Kyle snickered. “He can only do it when it’s dry. Rain, snow, too much humidity, andpoof! Nothing. Shira Lourdes is a stress telekinetic. Shit flies around when she gets jumpy or upset.”
“Hmm. Edgar?”
“We’re not sure what his deal is. He came with the lieutenant. My theory is he got caught in some magical crossfire to get the Technicolor feathers. Where the foul mouth, er, beak on him came from is anybody’s guess. And Jeff Gatling? Guy with the banana?”
“He does apportation. I could see that.”
“Yeah, but he can only teleport fruit.”
“Oh.” The V-furrow had deepened. Mr. Perfect could be blindsided, apparently.
“That’s why they wanted to know what you do. ’Cause seriously? We all do something and we all suck at it.”
The Schuylkill, sparkling in the October sunshine, lay behind them before Soren answered. “I don’t reallydoanything.”
“Then why the hell did they send you to us?” Kyle’s voice cracked as his volume rose. He hadn’t meant to get snappy, but damn, it was like pulling mastodon teeth using two spoons.
Another sip of coffee, another long silence. “Bad things happen around me.”
“Oh, great. That’s just great.”
“Not all the time.” Still Soren managed that soft, even tone, no show of temper, no defensiveness. “Just…when I’m angry.”
At the next stoplight, Kyle turned to stare at him. “Soren, do you evengetangry? Ever?”
“Oh, I do.” That smug little smile was back. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
Well, crud. Avengers. Sense of humor. And I was just starting to really hate him. “Ha. Can I call you Bruce?”
