Cat's Claw (A Calliope Reaper-Jones Novel)
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Calliope Reaper-Jones is Death's Daughter. She owes a debt to Cerberus, the three headed dog that guards the gate's of hell-a debt that involves a trip to Purgatory, Las Vegas, ancient Egypt, and a discount department store that's more frightening than any supernatural creature she'll ever encounter.
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. CAT’S CLAW An Ace Book / published by arrangement with Benson Entertainment, Inc. PRINTING
fought it, the more it got foisted onto my plate. “I trust you, Cal,” she said, squeezing my hand back. Stupid responsibility, I thought to myself wryly. Now I had to make sure that Runt stayed at Sea Verge with us, or else Clio was gonna hate my guts for the next century. “Want some toast?” she said, interrupting my thoughts and offering me a bite of her cinnamon toast. I laughed, shaking my head. “No, thanks, you know how queasy wormholes make me.” I wasn’t very good with the whole
do,” I moaned. “My hands were tied.” “And if you don’t find this guy in twenty-four hours—what then? We lose Runt?” Clio said, her eyes wide with dismay. I nodded, not liking it any more than Clio did—but she hadn’t been there! She didn’t know how little wiggle room Cerberus had given me . . . or how intimidating it was to deal with a three-headed hellhound who could rip you in half with just one bite. “Look, how hard can it be?” I surmised, my stomach feeling less heave-worthy now that I was
facing the Shade and sat down. I didn’t want to stand at the reception desk by myself, so I hightailed it over to the chair beside Jarvis and plopped my butt into it. We sat there for what could have been an hour—but was probably more like three—waiting for God knew what to happen. I tried to put things in perspective; the Shade had been sitting there longer than we had, so he had it worse than us, but that didn’t really make me feel any better. I pulled the little rubidium clock out of my
torture chamber. I watched as the other prisoners stared greedily at the wormhole, its pitch-black swirling vortex beckoning them toward it. It was probably the closest thing to the outside world most of them had seen in millennia. Watching the Jackal Brother call up that stupid wormhole with such ease made me feel really inadequate. It wasn’t fair that even the bad guys could work magic without breaking a sweat. I decided that I really needed to hook Senenmut back up with Cerberus, so I could