A Perfect Blood

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.”
    He frowned, hands still on his hips. I made a questioning, waiting face at him, and slowly his look changed to one of amusement. There was a faint glow from the floor, but it might just have been a memory on my retina. “I get first crack at him,” Jenks said as he landed on my shoulder.
    “And I’ll get the last,” I said, my heart pounding as the faint sound of running feet broke the stillness, the sound as old as the savannas.

Chapter Twenty-five

    H eart thudding, I reached back for my splat gun, bringing it forward and peering into the blackness of the tunnel. If I couldn’t bring him down with the gun, then I’d consider the charms. Reaching for the line, I filled my chi with a bright, scintillating glow of power, letting it leak over my soul and spindling a wad of it in my head just in case. Satisfaction was almost as warm as the line in me, and again I wondered how I could ever have willingly cut myself off from this. It was like bathing in light.
    I heard Eloy slide to a stop, and I peeked up through the opening I’d left in the grate. There was a faint glow from a cell phone being used as a flashlight—he was looking for the air shaft, running his hand along the ceiling. It was hard to see, but his face was still bruised from Winona’s beating. Breath held, I watched him. Grinning, I took aim. This was going to be easy.
    The gun clicked . . . and Eloy dropped and rolled, right out of my line of sight, his faint light extinguishing. The blue ball burst open against the far wall of the shaft, useless. Damn!
    Jenks flew through the grate, his sword out. “I told you I get first hit,” he said, and the ping of pixy steel rang followed by the hiss of propellant.
    “You have got to be shitting me,” Eloy said, and I poked my head out of the hole in the floor, fear for Jenks making me careless. “A bug?” His shadow tensed. “Morgan? Is that you?”
    “Give it up, Eloy!” I shouted, shooting at his voice. The light was gone, and I heard him swear. Crouched in the shaft, I waited for a sound, not wanting to get sticky silk in my eyes. At point-blank range, it would glue them shut. I had only so many sleepy-time balls left, or I would have peppered the hallway. Jenks was probably down, staying silent to keep from being stepped on. I wanted to keep Eloy busy until he was up again.
    “When this is done, I’m going to come for you,” Eloy said, and I shot at his voice, hearing him scramble back with another half-heard oath. “I know where you live. I’m bringing you in.”
    “Everyone knows where I live,” I said from inside the lower air shaft. “I’ve got a sign out front with my name on it, moss wipe!”
    “I’m going to find you,” he whispered, and I shivered at the hatred in his voice, his