A Perfect Blood

heel, good traction, supple leather. Ivy had gotten them for me for my birthday last year.
    “Rachel?”
    Grimacing, I threw the boots onto the bed and rose, snatching up my leather pants and shoving my feet into them. My fingertips touched the mended part where the bullet had gone through, and I sobered. “If I’m not there,” I said loudly, “they’ll get away. I know it!” I said, believing it to my core. “They’re just too lucky to be believed.”
    A sparkle of dust slipped under my door, and I gasped. “Jenks, get out of here!” I shouted, grabbing my shirt and covering myself.
    “Hurry up, Rache! Let’s go!” he said, not caring I was still half naked.
    “Get out!” I shrieked, and he blinked, wings becoming red when he saw me.
    “Oh, crap,” he murmured. “Sorry. The car is here . . .”
    “I still have one minute,” I said, adrenaline making my motions jerky as I gave up on modesty and put my shirt on. What could he see around a sports bra anyway? I felt like Cinderella as I jammed my boots on and opened the door to find Wayde still there, fidgeting.
    My boots were still unzipped as I shoved Wayde out of my way and clomped through a cloud of cheerful pixies. Ivy was waiting at the front door, looking like a sexy predator with her leather jacket and sword, and she handed me my shoulder bag, already stocked with my charms, splat gun, and a slew of sleepy-time potions.
    “You got your phone?” she said as I looped the bag over my shoulder.
    “Yes.” I patted my back pocket and hopped on one foot to get my boot fastened.
    “Got minutes on it?” Jenks asked snidely.
    “Yes!” I exclaimed, getting the other boot zipped. “Let’s go!”
    Ivy reached for the door, took a breath, and opened it. The late sun spilled in around me, and I headed out after her, waving to the pixies that wreathed us, thinning to nothing as we reached the curb. A black FIB van waited, and I looked up when Wayde ran down the steps and reached for the door’s handle. “I’m coming,” he said, and he shoved the wide sliding door open.
    “ ’Bout time he figured it out,” Jenks said as he zipped in ahead of me, and accepting Wayde’s help, I got in, settling myself on the far end. Ivy was already sitting next to Glenn, and I smiled at the FIB guy driving us.
    Downtown, I thought as Wayde got in and slid the door to a firm, definite shut. How had Trent known?

Chapter Twenty-three

    T he van was one of those big ones, with half the seats turned to look backward. Glenn and Ivy were sitting next to each other with their backs to the front of the vehicle. There was a faint tension between them, a hesitation that hadn’t been there before, and I wondered if my capture had been the straw that tripped the camel. Or whatever. Wayde sat at my left, currently gripping the chicken strap and looking ill. I couldn’t blame him. The revolving lights were on and we were running red lights and swerving a lot.
    A blueprint of the subbasement at the library was spread across our collective laps. It was laid out like a fortress with nested rings connected by the occasional passageway. Not what you’d expect under a city library, but Cincy was one of the oldest cities in the U.S., and she had more than a few surprises under her skirts. The money for the failed subway had gone somewhere after all.
    Jenks hovered over it all as if nailed to the air as we bounced and swerved. “I didn’t know that was there,” he said, his hands on his hips and lighting a small circle of schematic.
    The paper rattled as we took a turn and Glenn’s grip on it tightened. “It’s an abandoned military post from the Turn,” he said, leaning so close I could smell his aftershave. “They mothballed it shortly after, but if you know your history or think to look for it, you can find it.”
    He looked up when Ivy bumped his knee, and she said, “That was good thinking, Glenn.”
    “Thanks.” He didn’t look at her, and she met my eyes and shrugged, her expression sad. Jenks’s wings hummed as he noticed our exchange, and I made a mental note to ask his opinion of Glenn’s attitude when this was over. He was better than a lie detector in finding discrepancies between words and body language. I knew he liked Glenn, but he had liked Pierce, too. Man, I was glad I didn’t need to feel guilty about the man’s death.
    The car began slowing, and I looked out the front window as the driver stiffened. “Sir?” the man said without turning