A Perfect Blood

when my crutch snagged on the rug. Ivy glanced back when Wayde caught me, and I waved her off, stunned as the new thought circled. I think she wanted him to escape.
    “Rache?” Jenks said, concern in his features as, within me, old thoughts rearranged themselves into a new reality: the I.S. trying to catch HAPA without involving the FIB; Cordova being hands-on at a run she had no business attending; Jennifer gaining her freedom as Cordova reamed out the entire team; Cordova’s insistence that the FIB retain custody; Eloy’s boast that his people were everywhere; and the fact that when we did catch him, he escaped not once, but twice—the FIB-issued pistol in Eloy’s hand as he shot at me.
    “Rache?” Jenks asked again, and I shook my head.
    “I need to sit down,” I said, and Wayde took my elbow, helping me move to one of the bar stools instead of that couch made for entrapment. Seeing me there, he waffled between staying and going back to the door. I waved him off, and he retreated, leaving me to my awful thoughts. The FIB didn’t want HAPA caught. That’s what Felix had said. That’s what Felix had known.
    I had a very bad feeling that Dr. Cordova was a member of HAPA. Glenn didn’t have a clue. No wonder he couldn’t catch them.
    The memory of Cordova’s angry expression when Eloy was snared intruded. And her anger again when Glenn tagged him on Central Ave., how she’d driven off amid a media circus, not toward the FIB or the I.S., but somewhere else. Somewhere else to arrange a breakout?
    “Oh my God,” I whispered, one hand gripping my crutch, the other holding my ribs. The FIB had access to every blueprint in the city. They’d know the best places to hide, and with a whisper, HAPA would know when to move. HAPA had infiltrated the FIB. It was the only answer that made sense.
    My gaze rose to the closed door with the Inderlanders clustered before it, all of them hearing every word Glenn was saying, and as my ankle throbbed through the pain amulet, my phone, stuck in my back pocket, began to hum. If HAPA had infested the FIB, who were the-men-who-don’t-belong?
    Mouth dry, I fumbled for the phone, seeing a text from Trent. Trent texts? I thought, thinking it odd, and then my expression blanked. RADIO IS ACTIVE. MEET ME DOWNSTAIRS. JUST U.
    Crap on toast, it wasn’t over yet.
    Feeling unreal, I slid from the bar stool, my ankle jarring all the way up my spine. Jenks turned, sympathy showing on his face. I froze, my hand still shoving my phone away. Alone. He had said alone. That wasn’t even considering how he knew where I was and who I was with. Trent knew something and wasn’t sure who he could trust—except for me.
    “We’ll get him, Rachel. I promise,” Jenks vowed as he took in my cold face, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him we wouldn’t. Even if I told them my awful thoughts and we brought Dr. Cordova in, something would get fouled up. Human error, Eloy had called it.
    “I’m going to take a walk,” I said, and Ivy turned. Wayde and Daryl were next, and I flinched under their combined looks.
    “With your ankle like that?” Ivy said.
    “A drive then,” I said, my eyes flicking to Glenn’s door and back as I made a barely perceptible head shake. If Jenks or Ivy came, then Glenn would follow. He’d call the FIB’s home office. It’d be the tunnels all over again.
    Ivy’s face paled, and her breath eased out slowly as she gained understanding. She knew I didn’t want Glenn to know. Something had broken between her and Glenn, and trust came too hard to the vampire. She’d keep them all here for me, and I was proud of her and me both as I hobbled to the chair by the door where my coat and shoulder bag were.
    “I’ve got . . . my phone,” I said, to tell her I wouldn’t be alone, and she nodded, lower lip between her teeth. All I need now is a really big stick to hit Eloy with. I bet Trent would hold him down for me.
    “Give me a minute to get into my cold-weather gear,” Jenks said, darting to the light fixture where he’d left it.
    “She’ll be fine, Jenks,” Ivy said softly, and the pixy jerked to a stop, mistrusting it.
    Wayde crossed the room as I dug my coat out from the bottom of the stack. “Sit down,” Wayde said, and I shoved my crutch at him to hold while I shrugged into my coat. “I know it’s a shock, but if you caught him once, you can do it again.”
    Coat on, I reached for my crutch, and Wayde tightened his grip, not letting me take