The water beneath the stilt-piers was black, sluggish. Then it coated in a greasy film of sulfur scum that deadened the sound of ripples.
Arthur Vance moved through the flooded crawlspace beneath the northern boardwalks, his boots sinking silently into the underwater silt. In his right hand, the Cryo-Pneumatic Transfixer was loaded with sub-sonic cold air tranquilizer sabots. In his left, the 9.5-inch heavy dark metal stiletto was held reversed along his forearm, its matte-gray blade catching none of the surrounding moonlight.
Beside him, Vesper was a ghost of silver smoke.
The young lynx didn’t wade through the water. She traveled along the overhead load-bearing wooden support posts. She leapt from crossbeam to rusted iron pipe without causing a single drop of water drops to fall. Her movements were zero-drag, her balance point governed by the latent spatial instincts of her Gengjin white-gold bloodline. When she landed on an exposed beam, her paws didn’t strike the wood. They seemed to settle into the map point space above it.
Twenty paces behind them, Grimm held the rearguard outer edge. His massive was dark body underwater to the chest in the black water. The hound’s breathing was fully suppressed. His amber eyes were locked onto the rear flank to prevent any backup encirclement.
