A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10)(113)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to let everyone know you’re pleased," Glenn said, his annoyance that she was down here obvious even over the radio.

"Let’s move them out," she said decisively. "Get them to the FIB lockup."

My jaw clenched, and I looked at Jenks. That hadn’t been the plan. Catching them was one thing. Holding them was another. That’s where the vulnerability was, and it would take an I.S. cell to hold a magic-using human. "What the hell is she doing?" Jenks whispered, his wings lifting as he prepared to take flight.

That deep voice, faint from being whispered, came again. "Don’t let her move them, Detective. If she does, they’re gone. I promise you."

"You tell me how I can overrule her, and I will," Glenn said, his voice tight, and then louder, with a sliver of false respect, "I’d rather wait for the I.S. containment people, ma’am. It was arranged that they’d hold them, not us."

"Allow humans into I.S. custody?" Dr. Cordova snapped. "We have them. They’re strapped. They can’t do any magic." The voices in the room died away, leaving only the background chatter of independent conversations revolving around traffic and where to park.

Again that deep voice began arguing with Glenn, even as Glenn tried to do everything he could to no avail. "Don’t do it . . ." I whispered, the sound of my feet scraping on the cement loud as I began walking in circles, trying to wake up my cold, stiff muscles.

"Ma’am," Glenn started, but was immediately cut off.

"You, and you," Dr. Cordova demanded. "Take them out."

"Ma’am, I protest," Glenn said. The unnamed man in the background swore, then began barking out orders and clearing the room.

Jenks was hovering beside me, his expression worried. "Glenn is more pissed than a foreclosed troll," he said, and I nodded, balancing on one foot to pull a knee to my chest to stretch my cramped leg.

"Do you recognize that man with the deep voice?" I asked, and Jenks shook his head.

"Noted," Dr. Cordova said sarcastically. "Excuse me, you’re in the way, Detective."

Glenn make a low sound deep in his throat, and I winced at the sharp clatter and pop as he took his earpiece off and set it on some counter. Dr. Cordova’s voice rang out loudly, "I want them out of here in separate vans in five minutes. Move!"

Jenks had landed on the opening to the ventilation shaft, his silver dust lighting the corridor, when Ivy’s voice, smooth and silky, came faintly. "Hey, good tag, Glenn." She hesitated, and then asked, "What’s the matter? You okay?" His answer was hardly more than a growl, and Ivy exclaimed, "She’s retaining custody? Is she fried?"

I carefully stretched the other leg as I turned the speaker up as far as it would go. "I thought you were going to put them in our custody," Nina said.

"Apparently not," Glenn muttered.

"Look out!" a voice cried, and there were several exclamations and the soft pop of gunfire. "Fire in the hole!" someone else shouted. "Loose gun!"

My pulse quickened, and I quietly wedged the lower grate aside, dropping my shoulder bag into the lower shaft and out of sight. Jenks’s tiny features creased. Wings going full tilt, he said, "Oh, this isn’t good."

"Shhh."

"Stop!" Glenn shouted. "Someone get him!"

"Son of a fairy!" Jenks said, rising up to light a six-foot circle. "They’re escaping! Right under their fairy-wiped noses!"

I took a deep breath. Faint, so faint I almost didn’t hear it, the man with the deep voice said. "Alpha unit, prep beaters. Beta, stand by to receive game. Keep it tight, people. Reassemble at bird nest."

Put me in the dark by myself, will they? I thought as I carefully swung myself over the side and stretched to find the bend, four feet down. A shiver went through me as I hung my feet over the edge of the hole and stretched until my toes brushed the curve of the pipe. If I hadn’t guessed right and he was actually headed for the back door, he was going to get away.

A cry of surprise went up, and someone shouted, "Get the lights! Get the lights!"

"Eloy! You son of a bitch!" Chris’s shrill voice rang out. "I’ll kill you for this! I swear, I’ll kill you if you leave me behind!"

I couldn’t help my grim smile as I settled inside the pipe below the level of the floor. Apparently we were all having a great day. As Jenks hovered, I dragged the grate closer. I could tell when the lights came back on in the distant room because everything got quiet, then the noise started back up again with demands for information. I didn’t hear the man with the deep voice. He was gone. I think the men at the radio station were, too.

"Spread out! Find him!" Glenn shouted, and I knelt in the shaft with my feet running down it, my head poking above the level of the floor. I fumbled for my splat gun, the cold metal making me shiver as it met the small of my back.

"Is anyone still at the back door?" someone yelled.

A faint voice called out, "Not enough," and Ivy swore.

"Nina, give me your finding amulet," she demanded, and then I heard her run. For an instant, I considered telling her where I thought he was heading, but then didn’t; what if I was wrong? This way, both bases would be covered.

Nina was laughing. It seemed to be the right response, as all hell was breaking loose.

"There is nothing funny here," Dr. Cordova snarled, barely heard over the back-and-forth chatter on the radios.

"Teresa, you are funny," Nina said, sounding sourly amused. "You should’ve listened to your detective. Knowing your limits is a strength, not a weakness."

"This is not my fault!" Dr. Cordova shouted. "I hadn’t taken custody of them yet. Detective Glenn, I’m holding you responsible for this! That man wasn’t searched properly! He had a weapon!"

"Of course you are, ma’am," he said, and I exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jenks, who was now standing on the grate, hands on his hips and wings silent.

"You think he’s coming this way?" Jenks asked, and I nodded. From the radio burst a shouted realization that the can of spray was gone, too. Fingers fumbling, I turned the radio off. Grabbing a couple of zip strips from my shoulder bag, I stuffed them in the tops of my boots. No wonder Ivy wore a waist pack when she was on a run. I had more stuff jammed in my boots than toes.

"What are you doing?" Jenks hissed. "You should call for help!"

"Go get help if you want," I said, and he darted up as I repositioned the grate so I could poke my head out. "He’s coming this way, and I’m going to stop him. Douse the light, will you? It takes forever for your dust to settle."