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When the trail hit an industrial area riddled with abandoned or semiabandoned buildings, it meandered, as if she'd lingered there. Eventually it led into one of these buildings--where she must have rested--then snaked out of the neighborhood and over to a busier street, still rife with industrial buildings and warehouses, but many converted to lofts and nightclubs. It continued down the street of nightclubs, past lines of people waiting to get inside.
"She crossed the road here," I said.
We only got a few steps when I picked up the smell of rot again, stronger and fresher.
"I'm getting it too," Clay said. "She's close."
Halfway across, I stopped as a fresh wave of the scent came over on the breeze. I looked up to see a short, sturdy figure under a dim streetlight. She wore a hooded cloak of some kind, high heels and a short skirt. Her back was to us.
A car honked. Clay grabbed my elbow and hurried me across into the alley. I peered out, then ducked back around the corner.
"So how do we handle this?" I whispered.
"Mercifully," Jeremy said.
"No questioning then?"
"Don't need to," Clay said.
Jeremy hesitated, and I knew he was thinking it would be nice to question her. Personal curiosity, of course, but it could be concealed under the guise of education, wanting to add to the supernatural world's knowledge of portals.
After a moment, he shook his head. "Quickly and mercifully is best. Clay? Go out and ask her into the alley."
Clay looked at Jeremy as if he'd just been told to dance the rumba on a public thoroughfare.
I bit back a laugh. "Just walk over to her and point at the alley. Maybe say...I don't know...something like 'fifty bucks.' " I looked at Jeremy. "Does that sound right? Fifty?"
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His brows shot up. "Why are you asking me?"
"I wasn't--I just meant, as a general..." I threw up my hands. "How am I supposed to know how much a hooker costs?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
I sighed. "Fine, fifty bucks sounds good. It's not like she knows what the going rate is anyway. Just say that and nod at the alley. She'll follow."
Clay continued to stare at us in silent horror.
"Oh, for God's sake, you're ready to break her neck but you can't--"
"I'll do it," Jeremy said, then shot a look my way. "Not that I have any more experience soliciting prostitutes than Clay does."
"Never crossed my mind."
A mock glare, then he headed out.
I'm sure "fifty bucks" and a nod to the alley would have been enough, but Jeremy chatted to her for a couple of minutes first. Then he led her into the alley.
When she saw us blocking the other end, she stopped. Jeremy, at her heels, moved fast, intending to snap her neck before she knew what was happening. Quick and merciful. But we'd tipped her off too quickly and she ran--right for me. I feinted left and pulled back my fist, ready to swing...only to see her wide-eyed and cowering.
One look at her expression, and I knew she'd run to me for protection. I reminded myself that killing her was a mercy--it would send her to a decent afterlife. But I couldn't do it.
I looked over at Jeremy and Clay, but they were both caught off guard. So much for quick and merciful.
When no one moved, she bowed her head and started to sob. What I'd originally thought was a cloak was a shawl, pulled up around her face, so she could stay hidden in its shadow. That was probably the only way she could ply her trade in Toronto. From the glance I'd had at her face, she could have passed for sixty--and a hard-drinking, hard-living sixty at that.
"Who are you?" I asked.
