Medium Rare: (Intermix) by Meg Benjamin Page A

project.”
    “Latest project?” Evan frowned. “You mean William Bradford? Or Alana DuBois?”
    “We’ll get to that.” Addison blew a quick cloud of smoke. “Tell me about your people. Where do they come from?”
    “What’s left of my ‘people’ live in Illinois. Right outside Galesburg.”
    Addison grimaced, waving his cigarette holder dismissively. “Not your current relatives, such as they are. Your people. Your ancestors. From whom are you descended?”
    “Welsh on my father’s side, German on my mother’s.”
    “With whom did you live after your father’s death?” Addison raised an eyebrow. “I understand your mother died earlier.”
    “With my mother’s parents. Not that it’s any of your business, whoever you are.”
    Addison gave him a chilly smile. “My business encompasses a great many things, Delwin. Currently, you’re one of them. Now, about Alana DuBois.”
    “What about her?” Evan settled his shoulders deeper into the leather padding. “Small-time con artist from Dallas. Came to San Antonio. Felt the need to move on and took off. Not much mystery there.”
    “She felt the need to ‘move on’ after taking the trouble to contact you about Bradford. Without taking any of her possessions with her. Without picking up her last paycheck. Does that actually strike you as a realistic possibility for someone living on the margin of society, as she was?” Addison’s eyebrow arched almost to the top of his forehead.
    Evan shrugged. “Maybe she got in over her head. Maybe somebody threatened her and she cleared out fast. A woman living on the margins wouldn’t necessarily value her possessions or her paycheck if she thought she might get caught.”
    Addison exhaled a smoke ring, staring up at the distant ceiling. “Still, you should check out her possessions, don’t you think? You might learn something more about her.”
    “Learn what? This isn’t an arch criminal we’re talking about.”
    “In the interest of being thorough.”
    Evan shook his head. “I need to get going on Bradford.”
    “You may, in a roundabout way. Alana DuBois could take you in Bradford’s direction.”
    From the depths of the passage outside the cell door, Evan suddenly heard the sound of clicking claws and panting. Something was galloping toward them. He leaped to his feet, moving away from the cell door. A great gray wolf leaped into the light, vaulting through the suddenly open door, mouth spread wide to show its jagged fangs. Its snarls filled the cell as it crept toward him, its golden eyes glowing with feral anticipation.
    Addison pulled a .357 Magnum Colt Python from his jacket pocket and nailed the wolf between the eyes. It disappeared in a flash of light.
    “I wish you could control your id, Delwin,” Addison mused, tucking the pistol seamlessly into his jacket. “These interruptions make conversation difficult.”
    Evan swallowed. “I don’t think ids are supposed to be controllable. Part of being an id.”
    “Yes, well, our conversation is largely over at any rate, except for one more thing.” Addison rose gracefully to his feet.
    The dungeon walls began to dissolve around them, starting to transform instead into the halls of Horace Mann High School, Evan’s second least-favorite dream location. “What?”
    Addison became transparent along with the walls, but he seemed to maintain his essential shape even as he did. “Look after Rose Ramos, Delwin, that’s your principal job.”
    Evan frowned. “I thought my principal job was to find out what William Bradford was up to and what happened to Alana DuBois.”
    Addison shrugged. “The two are not unrelated. But Alana DuBois is almost certainly dead. And if anything happens to Rose, you’ll have to answer to me.”
    His eyes suddenly began to glow like blue embers. His body enlarged, elongated, darkened, filling the hall around them in a massive, choking ball of black. Evan tried to catch his breath, groping behind him for something to