A Perfect Blood With Bonus Material

by Kim Harrison

  Part of me wanted to tap a line and smack him a good one, but I didn’t. Restraint. That was going to be my new watchword. That I’d given myself permission to do demon magic scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to become Al. I’d use my magic only if necessary. Wayde was a reasonable person. We could settle this without violence.

  I turned for the doors, angry but trying not to be. It was harder to walk without my crutch, but I managed, my pulse fast as I snatched my bag from the floor and lurched for the handle of the glass doors. Beyond them in the glow of a streetlight was Trent’s car, the lights aimed at the front of the building. There was a tiny scuff behind me, and I turned, ticked.

  “Hey!” I yelped, scrambling to stay upright when Wayde plowed into me, pinning me to the glass wall beside the door. “What in hell are you doing?” I wheezed, my back to the door and squirming as he felt in my coat pockets.

  “Looking for your keys,” he said, and my hand met his cheek in a loud smack.

  “Get off!” I yelled, and I heard the jingle of keys as he backed up. “What in hell is wrong with you!”

  His head lowered, Wayde backed off, my keys in his hand. His face was red where I’d hit him, but he didn’t seem bothered about it. “You’ll thank me for this later,” he said, looking as if he’d won. “I know you’re mad about Eloy, but running out and trying to find him isn’t going to help anyone, least of all you.” He jiggled my keys as if he had the world by the nads, and I frowned, tugging my coat straight. Now? I wondered. Can I use my demon magic now?

  Trent hadn’t come in yet. I knew he was watching this, and my thoughts whispered restraint. I could walk away, but if I did, he’d just follow me in my car. I needed my keys. “You,” I said as I limped toward Wayde and he backed up, blinking, “haven’t known me long enough to give me advice that I’m not going to take. Give me my keys.”

  “No.” He raised them high over his head as if it were a game. “Let’s go upstairs, have some pizza, beer, and burn HAPA in effigy. Tomorrow when we’re done with our pity party, you’ll make some charms and we’ll find out where they went. We don’t have to tell the FIB or the I.S. We can take care of this ourselves.”

  Taking care of this myself was exactly what I intended to do. Adrenaline seeped through me, erasing every hurt, making me alive. “Keys,” I said, backing him up until we were at the elevators again. “Give me my keys!” I demanded, my hand out, and he held them in the air like a school bully. “Wayde, I’m not afraid anymore to hurt you!”

  He shook his head. “My God, you’re a bitch when you’re on pain meds.”

  “That’s alpha bitch, buddy,” I said, shaking, “of an honest-to-God pack. And you will respect that. Give me my keys, get in that elevator, and go away, or I’ll pin you to the ground and rip off your ear.”

  Face grim, he shook his head. Pity had slipped into his eyes, and he slid the keys into his pocket. “He hurt you, Rachel, and I know what that does to you. My sister is the same way, and she hurts herself worse trying to get back at them. It doesn’t make anything better.”

  I looked at him for a good three seconds, feeling my impatience grow. Trent was waiting, and Wayde wasn’t listening. My ankle was starting to hurt again. Maybe I shouldn’t have busted my crutch. I had tried. My idea of no violence wasn’t working. “Maybe you’re right,” I said, relaxing my body as if I had given up.

  Wayde smiled. “Good,” he said as he looked away to push the up button.

  I lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders and slamming his head into the wall. “Sorry,” I breathed as he howled, reaching behind to get me.

  “Son of a whore!” he swore, and I hooked my good leg behind his and pulled. We both went down, but I was expecting it. Arms pinwheeling, he fell headfirst into the ashtray beside the elevator. Kneeling beside him, I grabbed the heavy metal bowl and slammed it on his head.

  Wayde yelled, and I hit him again, adrenaline pulling a scream of outrage from me. He went quiet, and I held my breath to make sure I could hear him breathing. I suppose I could have used my magic on him, but this was a lot more satisfying.

  “I never should have helped her off the couch,” he whispered, and I hit him again, the ashtray bonging with hard certainty.

  He groaned, and this time, he really was out. There were three lumps on his head, and I shoved him over so I could pull his eyelids back to make sure that his pupils were dilated properly. “I told you I wasn’t afraid anymore,” I said as I slowly got up, shaking. Good God, my mother would laugh her pants off. I’d beaten up my bodyguard.

  I gave a moment’s thought to taking his belt off and tying him up, but Trent was flashing his lights at me. Not wanting Wayde to follow, I felt his pockets for my keys and fished them out. Still shaking, I got up, made a salute to the camera in the corner, and hobbled out.

  The cool night air was like a balm, and I headed for Trent’s car with my thoughts swirling. I’d hurt Wayde, but he’d be okay, not dead like if he followed and ended up shot. “You could have helped me out there,” I said as I yanked the handle up and slid into the sharp little black two-seater, finding the seat warm from the electronic heater. The windows were down, but with all the vents wide open and aimed at me, it was comfortable even in the chill autumn night.

  Trent revved the engine, giving me a sideways grin. “I told you to come alone. You think I want to be on a security camera?”

  I eyed his black attire as I put my belt on and he jammed the car in first and headed smoothly for the exit. “Besides,” he said as he paused at the entryway to the apartment complex, then gunned it, “If you couldn’t get rid of your bodyguard, you aren’t fit enough to tag Eloy. How come you didn’t make up a healing curse?”

  “I haven’t had the time. Besides, I’m okay,” I said, and he nodded. Adrenaline spiked, and I couldn’t help my smile. The car was fast, Trent looked good, and we both knew more than the I.S. and the FIB combined. “Do you know who the-men-who-don’t-belong are yet?”

  He shook his head and tossed my battery pack and earbud to me. “Not yet, but they’re human, and they’re targeting HAPA, not helping them. They have one of their men with Eloy and Dr. Cordova at the ‘watering hole.’ Take a listen.”

  I fumbled for the earpiece and put it in. The sound of light chatter and the clinking of a spoon met me. It could be anywhere.

  “You know what the watering hole is?” Trent asked, slowing at a stop sign.

  I shook my head, then hesitated, smiling as the distinctive sound of ice being crushed nearly blew my ear out. “Grand latte! Italian blend! Easy on the syrup, light on the froth! Ready for pickup!” Mark shouted.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” I said, thinking Trent looked a shade too devilish to be good backup, but he’d do. “They’re at Junior’s.”

  Trent grinned across the car at me, and something in me fluttered. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Ribs aching, I sat next to Trent in his snazzy car as he pulled into Junior’s and parked, lights off, engine running. My fingers looked silver in the dash’s blue light, and all my bruises were invisible but aching. The earbud lay on the console between us, the volume cranked as terse commands went back and forth in a busy, well-organized flow. Inside Junior’s it was peaceful. I can change that, I thought dryly, knowing that the next ten minutes were really going to mess up the new understanding that Mark and I seemed to have.

  It was nearing three in the morning according to the clock on Trent’s dash, and if the coffeehouse had been in the Hollows it would be jumping. As it was, it felt much later, the brightly lit eatery sending its glow through the plate-glass windows onto an almost deserted parking lot. Junior, or Mark, as his name really was, was stocking shelves from a pallet of boxes beside him. There were no other employees that I could see.

  In the corner, two customers argued over their to-go cups—Eloy and Dr. Cordo
va. Eloy had a jeans coat on over his white prison jumpsuit. Dr. Cordova was going more casual than usual in black pants and a knit top—comfortable to travel in should she need to jump a plane. In the corner, an athletic-looking man in a jogging outfit sat with his back to them, but I’d sell my best panties online if he wasn’t one of the-men-who-don’t-belong watching everything going on behind him with some sort of electronic gizmo.

  Trent hit the seat warmer again as it went out. “Here,” he said, reaching into his belt pack and handing me a tiny vial. “You look like you’re hurting.”

  I took it, my eyebrows high. “And this is?”

  “Numbs the pain. I could really use your assistance, but not if I have to help you in the door. It masks pain better than your amulet. But it won’t heal you.” He grimaced, needlessly flicking his fair hair back out of his eyes. “I’m not that good, either.”

  “I said I didn’t have the time,” I said, and he looked at me.

  “And I wasn’t going to ask for Ceri’s help,” he added as if I hadn’t said anything. “All you have to do is swallow it.”

  “Oh thank God,” I said, slugging the tiny vial of amber liquid back. My lips curled as the bitter concoction slipped down, tasting of ash and willow. Trent’s lips parted, clearly surprised, and I shrugged. He was right. I wasn’t much good if I couldn’t move fast.

  Inside, Eloy and Dr. Cordova continued to discuss something, her arms waving in her dramatic fashion, Eloy leaning back, letting her rage, his disdain obvious. Breath held, I waited for something to happen, but nothing did. My wrist still hurt, my ankle still throbbed, and I still couldn’t take a deep breath. “It’s not working,” I said, my estimation of Trent’s abilities fading.

  In a quick, irate motion, he took the empty vial. “I haven’t invoked it yet. Ta na ruego,” he said as our fingers touched.

  Starting, I shivered as I felt a filmy sheet of numbing gray slither over me, working from my aura in, muffling the pain and storing it up for later. Wild magic tingled along my muscles, and I took a deep, painless breath. “Dude. That’s good stuff. Thanks.”

  Trent cracked his neck, and I filed the motion away as him trying to hide his pleasure. The chatter from the earbud was getting intense. Inside, the man at the table was stirring his coffee, the sound of his spoon hitting the table a bare instant after he did it. My heart pounded as he turned halfway to the window, noticing us. His eyes almost black in the dim light, Trent adjusted his rearview mirror to see the Laundromat down the street. “Ready to go?”

  I gave my ankle a wiggle and took a cleansing breath. I was going to pay for this in spades later, but for now, I didn’t hurt. “Yes, thank you.”

  “I have another when we’re done if you want it. You’ve got an hour until it wears off.”

  An hour? Jeez, not much of a spell. “Thanks again,” I said, meaning it.

  Trent reached for the door handle, and from between us, that low, deep voice drawled in a smooth, even tone that rivaled Trent’s, “Blockades in place. Beater, approach at personal discretion. All units stand by for cleanup. This is going to be a messy one, people.”

  “Wait,” I said, reaching out to touch his knee, and Trent hesitated. “I don’t like the sound of this,” I said as I barely resisted the urge to flip the visor mirror down and look behind us. “They’re going to trash Mark’s place.”

  “Negative, that’s a negative,” a sharp voice with a New York accent said. “Black car in the parking lot. Two civilians. Ninety-eight percent confident that it’s the demon and the elf.”

  My pulse jumped, and I grabbed the battery pack to flip on the mic. “What are you doing?” Trent said.

  “These guys are good, and a joint venture might be the start of a beautiful friendship,” I said. “Besides, they’re here, and we could use the help.”

  Trent looked at the expensive toy in my hand, then nodded. Pleased, I brought the battery closer to my mouth. “Hey, hi, guys. Your plan sounds good and all, but there’s one problem. Eloy knows that’s your man in there pretending to be a jogger slamming down a six-hundred-calorie drink. He’s going to make a bloodbath of the place, and I can’t let that happen. I like Mark, and he’s too nice to get shot.”

  “Morgan!” the deep voice barked, then faintly, “Who counted the equipment?”

  “I did, Captain,” a faint voice said. “The discrepancy was noted.”

  “You failed to inform me that the radio was still active!” There was a slight hesitation, and then, very clearly, hitting every vowel hard, “Morgan, leave the watering hole.”

  I could resist no longer. I flipped the visor mirror down, but there was nothing behind us. “Its code name is Junior’s, captain of the-men-who-don’t-belong. Get it right.” Handing the battery pack to Trent, I pulled my bag onto my lap and started looking for a piece of paper. “I’ve been listening to your plans for the last fifteen minutes, and they suck. Eloy is going to shoot your men, if you’re lucky. He’s going to start throwing curses if you’re not. He’s got a vial of my blood, a demon textbook, and fewer morals than the most depraved demon I’ve ever partied with.” Receipt in hand, I shuffled around for a pen. Exasperated, I looked up. “You got a pen?”

  Disbelieving, Trent pulled a slim black-gold pen from the console and handed it to me, his fingers not shaking like mine were.

  “Thanks.” Clicking it open, I jotted a note. “You’ve been after him for months and failed to catch him. I propose we try together.”

  “Drive away, Morgan,” the captain said. “This is your last warning.”

  “Don’t get your jockstrap in a knot,” I said, grimacing when the tip of the pen broke through the paper I was using my leg to write on. “He kicked my ass a couple of times, too. He and Cordova are a potent team. Apart, neither of us is effective, but together?” Nervous, I clicked the pen closed. DON’T CALL I.S. OR FIB. GET OUT ASAP. SORRY ABOUT THE MESS. R.

  The radio was silent, and I added, “I propose we work together on this. What do you say? Frankly, I’d like to prove to you that I’m a team player. My demon magic, your guns. Work with me, gentlemen. I could be your new best friend.”

  Again, a long silence. Fidgeting, I handed Trent his pen back. Sure, I’d said we needed to work together to get him, but the truth was, I was more interested in showing this very dangerous underground group of well-funded humans that I was not the enemy. Once they took care of HAPA, I might be next on their list.

  “What do you propose?” the captain’s voice said, and my eyes closed briefly in relief. Beside me, Trent made a small sound, as if he only now realized what I had been doing. Not as oblivious as you thought, eh, little cookie maker?

  “Eloy wants me, Captain, above all others,” I said. “With us distracting him, you can get your men in there without him and Dr. Cordova killing everyone. I suggest you do it.”

  Breath held, I waited. Beside me, the scent of mulled wine became stronger. Trent’s foot was twitching, and he stilled it.

  “You may approach the suspects,” the captain said, and I exhaled loudly, meeting Trent’s eyes and smiling eagerly. “Engage at will. You will stand down when we take the premises or you will be shot. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” I said, and Trent clicked the mic off.

  “I see what you’re trying to do,” he said as he dropped the battery into his belt pack and affixed the earbud to his left ear. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  My tension heightened, and I opened the door. “They know I exist. Better this than trying to be mysterious and threatening. I tried that and landed in Alcatraz.” Relishing the lack of pain, I got out. It was a false sense of well-being, but I’d take it. The thump of the door shutting echoed, and I realized I hadn’t seen another car since we’d pulled in. The-men-who-don’t-belong had cleared the street. Even the I.S. had trouble with that.

  My boots were nearly silent as I quickly moved t
o the front of the car, wanting to get in fast. The man in the corner in his jogging outfit was watching us, his lips moving.

  “Please tell me you’re not trusting this?” Trent said mildly, meeting me step for step.

  “Not for a second.”

  His hand dipping into his jacket pocket, he pointed a fob at his car and locked it. The shiny vehicle beeped, and I looked at him. We were on a run, and he was worried about his car?

  “Seriously?” I said, and he half smiled at me as he reached in front of me to grab the door handle. Adrenaline scoured through me as I was forced to hesitate while the glass door opened and Trent gestured for me to go first. The chimes rang, and I boldly walked in, my tight shoulders not relaxing at all as the coffee-scented air enveloped me. Eloy’s eyes landed on us, and he cut Dr. Cordova’s harangue off short.

  I gave the man in the jogging suit a bunny-eared kiss-kiss, and Trent chuckled at something coming in over the earbud. “We never did decide how we were going to do this,” Trent said as he took my arm when Mark looked up, his first enthusiastic hail dying away when he saw it was me. “What do you have in that bag of yours?”

  “My phone, a hair pick. My keys.” I slipped my note into Trent’s hand and smiled at Mark. “Can you get this to Mark for me?”

  Trent’s grip on my arm tightened as the note slipped into his fingers. “You don’t have any charms at all?” he whispered through his clenched teeth, leaning in so his breath tickled my ear even as he smiled confidently at Dr. Cordova, spinning in her chair to look at us like we were stupid. “What do you plan to do? Spill coffee on them?”

  I kept smiling. “I was having pizza at Detective Glenn’s house,” I said tightly, my lips hardly moving. “I didn’t think I needed any charms. I’ve got my usual. Splat gun, magnetic chalk, plus the charms you gave me. What have you got?”

  “Nothing you’re going to like. You lead, I’ll follow.”

  That surprised me, and I gave him a sideways smile that he mirrored before I focused on the two people at the table. Plan A it was. Go in brash and come out bashed. “Hello, Cordova, Eloy,” I said, refusing to address her as doctor. “Nothing like a good caffeine buzz before kidnapping and mutilating more people, eh?”