Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires #9)(75)
Author: Chloe Neill

I wouldn’t have called it a party, but before I could protest, she launched forward and slipped into the crowd.

I glanced at Jonah. “A ‘gorgeous invitation’? To a protest?”

That sounded suspicious. And manipulative.

“Regan?” I wondered.

“I think we should keep an eye on her,” Jonah said.

I nodded. “Stay close. If we get separated, meet at the fountain.”

“Roger,” he said, and I moved into the crowd.

Cassie was small, but the crowd parted to let her move forward, as if they were the river she controlled. I kept my gaze on her spot in the crowd as she moved deeper.

“You got her?” Jonah yelled out behind me, the crowd growing thicker and tighter as we advanced, the decibels higher.

“I see her!” I yelled back, holding out my hand behind me so he might grab it and keep us connected in the crowd.

Our fingers brushed just as shoving erupted to my right side, elbows pointing into my back and hips. I pulled back my arm, keeping my gaze on the divot Cassie had made in the crowd, and pressed my feet into the asphalt, trying to gain purchase. But the shoving grew stronger.

My irritation began to rise.

I pushed in the direction I thought she’d gone, panicking when I couldn’t see the shine of her satin jacket or feel the bubble of magic around her.

“Crap,” I murmured, wincing as a foot stomped on mine. The crowd tightened, contracted like a heartbeat. I breathed out slowly through pursed lips as bodies snugged against me, magic and smells and sounds crowding me on all sides.

After a moment, the press of bodies moved in the other direction, freeing me up enough to stand on tiptoes, scan the crowd for Cassie.

I found her, ten or twelve feet away, her arm on a man’s shoulder as she smiled and strained to see over the crowd.

I had only an instant of relief.

She turned around to look, her expression pained, as if she’d been surprised. And her eyes, wide and innocent, went blank. I’d seen those eyes before. The same dead expression, the absence of will. The harpies had worn it well.

Things were about to get very, very bad.

“Cassie!” I called out over the crowd. “Cassie! Are you all right?”

She didn’t turn, but her eyes rolled back, and her head began to loll. And there, only feet away from her, was a girl in a red cape.

I swore, began pushing through the crowd. Regan had found a perfect spot to disappear another supernatural, and she was doing it right before my eyes.

“Cassie!” I screamed out, wedging my body in an effort to push through the crowd, but the people around me were wedged in tight and looked around in irritation as I used elbows and knees to shove through them.

“Get out of the way!” I pled, looking over the top of the crowd for her hair or the barker’s, trying to trace where they’d gone. “Stop! Stop those girls!”

The man beside me threw out an arm, catching me in the stomach. I sucked in breath and swore out a curse that widened his eyes and had him moving back.

“Back off,” I told him, and the sight of my silvered eyes had him raising his hands and giving me what little room he could.

I scanned the crowd but saw nothing. No dark hair, no nymph and captor sliding quickly through the crowd to make their getaway.

“Damn it!” I yelled, loud enough that the people around me gave me nasty looks. I ignored them, just as they ignored my panic and pleas for assistance.

I needed higher ground, so I ran to the Picasso and scrambled up the incline that marked its base, then jumped onto the next ridge of metal, which put me just above the crowd. I surveyed the bodies, looking for Regan.

After a moment I found her, the cape’s hood still lifted, slithering through the crowd, dragging the nymph behind her. They were headed toward Dearborn. If they got clear of the crowd or jumped in a cab, I’d lose them. I didn’t have time to find Jonah. I only had time to haul ass.

I jumped down, hit the ground in a crouch, and took off.

This ended tonight.

She got to the edge of the protestors before I did and slowed her jog to a walk, Cassie walking awkwardly behind her, her wrist in Regan’s hand. To anyone paying attention, it would have looked like Cassie’d had a little too much fun at the protest. But not many were paying attention. The crowd was growing, their calls for Ethan’s release louder with each round.

I reached the perimeter just as she reached the street and took off to the north, toward the River. Appropriate location for a nymph, but not when the nymph was being dragged while under the influence of drugs or magic.

I spied a woman in a red T-shirt as I ran to the sidewalk and yelled, “Find Jonah!” as I passed her, hoping she was an RG member and actually knew who Jonah was.

Regan and Cassie were nearly a block ahead. They dodged the entrance to the Daley Center’s underground parking lot and crossed the street, Cassie jogging along awkwardly behind.

“Regan!” I yelled out, dodging a speeding cab and the curses of the driver, who lowered his window to make sure I’d heard them. “Stop right now!”

She ignored the demand and darted across Dearborn, barely missing the front end of a CTA bus. She hopped the curb but lost her balance in the frozen mountain of ice on the other side and hit the ground, Cassie behind her.

Regan glanced behind, then took off, leaving Cassie in the snow.

I’d gained half a block but stopped at Cassie’s side, taking in her dilated pupils and vague expression.

“I’ll take care of her, Merit!” Jonah said, running across the street and signaling me onward. “Go get the girl!”

I took his word for it and took off. Regan kept running north, dodging people and disappearing into the shadows of an El track that covered Lake Street. I quickened my pace as she began to climb one of the vertical supports that kept the train tracks in the air.

She climbed clumsily, was five feet in the air when I reached her, jumped up, and grabbed her ankle. She kicked it off, catching me in the shoulder. I ignored the shot of pain and grabbed again.

Arms pinwheeling in the air, she fell, pushing me down behind her and landing on top of me with enough verve to leave me momentarily breathless.

She turned, began pummeling me with her fists. A train rushed by overhead, the roar blocking the dull thud of her fist against my breastbone, the crack of her knuckles against concrete when I dodged a second blow.

I reared back, pulled up my legs, and made contact with her abdomen. With a whoop of air, she fell backward, hit the ground, and skidded a few feet behind her.