Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

terminated in a long, segmented tail with a scorpion stinger. They had large round heads with feline jaws and twin rows of tiny eyes, sitting deep in their sockets. The eyes stared to the front, not to the side. That usually meant a predator.
    The beasts scuttled across the sleek surface, sticking to the glass as if they had glue on the pads of the paws. The largest of them was about six feet long and had to push three hundred pounds. The smallest was about the size of a large dog. That meant some of them were babies. Hungry, hungry babies.
    The workers backed away, brandishing their tools. Only one exit led out of this glass bowl and it lay on the opposite side, almost directly behind the train car and the creatures.
    The horde focused on the people, watching them with the intense attention of hungry predators who were trying to decide if something was food. The larger of the creatures raisedits head. Its wide jaws parted, revealing a small forest of crooked fangs. Meat-eater. Of course.
    The workers stopped moving.
    The largest beast stared at the people below, turning left, right, left…Muscles bunched on his shoulders.
    “Back away,” Kyle called out. “Don’t provoke it. Envy, get in there.”
    “In a minute,” the navigator said.
    The beast leaped, aiming for the center of the crowd. People scattered, splitting into two groups—the eight people closest to us ran toward the tent, while twice as many sprinted away in the opposite direction, toward the glass wall.
    The beast chased after the farther, larger group. One of the guards, a large dark-skinned man, charged at it. The beast hooted, like a colossal owl, and snapped its teeth. The guard dodged, swung, and chopped at the beast’s neck. The machete cut bone and gristle like a meat cleaver.
    The beast’s head drooped to the side, half severed. The scent of blood hit me, bitter and revolting. My predatory instincts backpedaled—whatever that thing was, it wasn’t good to eat.
    The creature staggered and crashed down. Dark blood, thick and rust-brown, spilled onto the glass.
    The horde broke out in alarmed hoots.
    “Not so tough,” Felipe told Kyle, the relief plain in his voice.
    The ground trembled. The walls of the railcar burst. A behemoth spilled out, huge, grotesquely muscled, its forelimbs like tree trunks. I’d once seen a dog as big as a house. This was larger. It was taller than the construction tent. How the hell did it even fit under there?
    Kyle swore.
    The beast sighted the dead offspring, opened its maw, and bellowed. She looked just like her babies, except for the bone carapace that sheathed most of her upper face as if someone had pulled her skull out and clamped it over her ugly mug. Her four eyes were barely the size of Ping-Pong balls. Trying to shoot them with an arrow would be a pain in the ass.
    “Okay,” Envy said. “I’m out.”
    Kyle’s eyes bulged. “I paid you, you maggot!”
    “Not enough,” Envy said.
    The vamp grabbed him, swinging the navigator over its back, and dashed away, leaping over people and dodging beasts. A moment and it vanished into the glass forest.
    Kyle’s face turned purple in a fit of sudden rage. He struggled to say something.
    Spurned by their parent’s roar, the creatures slunk toward the larger group.
    Felipe grabbed my arm. “Help us!”
    “Why?” I was done with the civil servant bit. It was no longer my job to save every idiot from the consequences of their own stupidity. They walked into the Glass Menagerie on their own, knowing the risks. Why should I put my life in danger for the people who tried to sic a vamp on me? I owed them nothing. I just had to get the information I needed from Kyle and make sure that Ascanio and I got out of there in one piece.
    The beasts circled the larger group. The workers hugged the glass wall. It wouldn’t be long now before one of the creatures got brave enough.
    “Please!” Felipe’s eyes were desperate. “My son is down there.”
    So what? Everyone was somebody’s husband, wife, somebody’s son, somebody’s Baby Rory…
    Aw, shit.
    I looked at Felipe’s face and saw Nick there. Their features were nothing alike, but that’s exactly what Nick must’ve looked like when told his wife was dead. Felipe stared at me with wide-open eyes, desperate and terrified, his face sharpened, as if he were about to wince in pain and cry out. Every wrinkle gouged his skin like a scar. All of the rules society imposed on men, all of the obligations to