Read Subject Seven for Free Online

over to voice mail, something changed.
    He looked around the bowling alley and studied the people around him. The Kingpin Bowl was a dive, the sort that reputable people didn’t go to. The only people around him were losers, slinking around in the bar area looking to score other losers, and a few teens who were playing in the arcade or actually trying to bowl a few games on the miserable alleys that needed more than a layer of polish to make them halfway decent. It was much too late at night for family fun.
    He concentrated and listened carefully to the people around him. Ears that could hear a heartbeat from thirty yards away strained and he sorted the busy noises until he could distinguish the background sounds from what he wanted. Regular humans were damned near deaf in comparison to him, a concept that almost always left him amused. He sniffed. The sad lot stank of beer, cigarettes and failed deodorant.
    He hit the redial button and listened. The phone made its purring sound in his ear, and on the other side of what the owners called “the Lounge,” where only people old enough to drink alcoholic beverages were supposed to sit, a phone rang at the same time. He looked in that direction and saw a man sitting at a small table. Even from across the room, he could almost smell the fear coming off the guy.
    He studied the stranger as the phone rang in his ear. Sure enough, the man watched his phone ring four times and then as soon as the voice started asking him to leave a message, the man set the phone down on the table next to a drained beer mug.
    Seven was big, especially for a fifteen-year-old, and while he could pass as an adult from size alone, no one was going to mistake him for being old enough to drink. That didn’t stop him from entering the Lounge. He had business to take care of, and he wasn’t planning on buying a beer anyway.
    He took the long way around the collection of tables, deliberately checking out the women around him instead of eyeballing Clarkson. The man was sweating and looking all over the place.
    A grizzled man with tattoos covering his beefy arms looked him over as he stared at the woman draped on the man’s arm.
    â€œWhat are you staring at, kid?” The man’s voice was a challenge, primal and simple. It said, Don’t try to take my woman from me or I’ll beat you down .
    Seven grinned and leaned in closer as he let himself slow down. The man looking at him blinked, shocked that his question was being answered with words instead of with fear. “I’m not looking at much. Just trash.” His eyes slid from the man to the woman with him. She was older, easily five to six years out of his normal range, but still attractive. She wore too much makeup and stank of perfume that was sweet enough to kill a diabetic. “And more trash.”
    The response was what he expected. The man stood up fast, muscles tensed, and prepared to swing. The woman with him, realizing she’d been insulted, despite the alcohol blurring her reasoning skills, opened her mouth and started to stand up as well. Her man wanted to be chivalrous, and she wasn’t used to that.
    Seven grinned, baring his teeth, and readied himself.
    The man did as he expected and took a swing. He blocked the blow easily and drove his clenched fist into the man’s stomach hard enough to knock all the air from the fool’s lungs. As his opponent started to double up, he caught the man’s throat in his hand and lifted him back into a standing position.
    There was no reason for the conflict except that he could use the distraction to keep Clarkson off guard. He didn’t want the man to know he was being stalked. Not yet. “Stop while you’re ahead, loser. Don’t make me break your stupid face.” Oh, the thrill! He liked the look of understanding on the man’s face. His fingers gripped the man’s trachea. One squeeze, a few extra ounces of pressure, really, and