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Both dogs barked at her, but Ledger snapped his fingers and they held their ground.
The moment stretched but nothing happened. Mama Rat looked at the surrounding buildings. Rags could see doubt flicker over her face.
“Go ahead,” said Ledger quietly. “Try again.”
Mama Rat blew the whistle again. And again. Her men looked nervously one to the other. They all turned to look down side streets and at the houses lining the street.
She blew once more, a long, protracted note that rose and rose, and then fell away as she lowered the whistle.
“Oops,” said Ledger again. “Looks like your backup isn’t coming.”
“I—I don’t—” began Mama Rat, and abruptly stopped as a figure stepped out of the shadows between two houses. He was average height, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with the word CADET stenciled in fading black letters above the outline of a police department shield. The man was young, in his early twenties, and had a flat Japanese face with straight black hair. In his right hand he held the silk-wrapped handle of a sword. Rags recognized it from a thousand anime movies. A katana. The blade was covered in bright-red blood, and there were blood splashes all over the newcomer’s clothes. Even a few drops on his face.
He walked into the street without haste. Then he paused, raised his sword, and with a sharp downward snap of
his wrist whipped all the blood from the oiled steel. It left a pattern of red drops along the sidewalk.
Captain Ledger nodded to the man, and he nodded back.
“You okay, Tom?”
Tom, the swordsman, nodded again.
“How many?” asked Ledger.
“Six,” said Tom. “I told them . . . not to . . .” He stopped and shook his head, and Rags realized that the man was very upset.
About what he had done.
Maybe about what he’d had to do.
Ledger sighed and turned to Mama Rat.
“Six men,” he said, but Tom interrupted to correct him.
“Five men and a woman.”
The captain sighed again. He did not look as upset as Tom was, but he clearly wasn’t happy. He walked to the edge of the FedEx truck, bent to brace his hand on the edge, and jumped down, landing with a grunt and a flicker of pain.
“Knees are getting old,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He clicked his tongue and Baskerville vanished, but Rags heard a clatter from the rear of the truck, and a moment later the brute came trotting out to stand beside his master. Bones wagged his tail and whined softly, and Baskerville gave a single acknowledging whuff.
The seven skull-riders and their leader had drawn together now and stood in a defensive knot. Mama Rat stood closest to Rags, her face filled with doubt and anger.
And horror, too.
“You killed all six of them?” she asked in a small, hollow voice. Tears glittered in the corners of her eyes.
Tom met her eyes and Rags could see such a deep pain in him that it made her heart hurt. “I gave them a choice,” he said. “They gave me none.”
“All . . . six?” gasped Mama Rat. “How? How?”
Ledger answered that. “Tom has some real talent.”
If it was meant as praise, it didn’t come out that way. Ledger sounded sad, and Tom took a long, slow, deep breath and let it out.
“They gave me no choice at all,” he repeated.
Two tears fell down Mama Rat’s cheeks. “No . . . ,” she whispered.
