A Perfect Blood

it. Behind him, Ivy shook her head at Jenks, telling him to leave off.
    “Let go of my crutch,” I said, giving it a yank. “I’m going to take a walk. Clear my head.” Find Eloy. Smack his head into a wall, dance on his guts . . . I’d get creative. Spontaneous like .
    “By myself, thanks anyway, Jenks,” I said as I slipped my shoulder bag up, and the pixy hovered at the ceiling in uncertainty, looking ticked but trusting Ivy. “I’ll be back in an hour!” I exclaimed, not liking the helpless feeling they were filling me with. “Save me a slice of pizza. Does anyone want anything while I’m out?”
    Wayde was standing in front of the door as if he couldn’t believe they were going to let me leave, but there was no reason I shouldn’t apart from maybe having trouble driving. I thought of Winona and the wreck they had made of her body, and my eyes narrowed. I’d improvise, overcome . . . adapt.
    “You sure you have everything you need?” Ivy said, and I almost smiled.
    “Yes,” I said, and I pushed Wayde out of my way with a gentle pressure.
    “You’re going to let her just walk out?” the Were said as I opened the door. Hobbling past him, I headed for the lift. “She can’t drive with a broken ankle.”
    The hallway was empty, and my arm hurt from the crutch. God, I hated it.
    “So she’ll sit in the parking lot until she gets cold,” Ivy said with false indifference.
    “Besides, we’re good at putting the pieces back together,” Jenks said, and the door closed behind me.
    Yes, they were good at putting me back together, and I felt like Humpty Dumpty as I made my scuff-thumping way to the elevator. My ankle hurt and my ribs ached as I waited for it. I got in when the doors finally opened, punching the lobby button with a vengeance, hard enough to make my bruised hand complain. I should have made a healing curse, but the honest truth was that I was afraid I might get it wrong and end up worse off.
    HAPA was deep in the FIB. How long, I wondered, had this arrangement been in force? Had they evolved together? Or had HAPA only recently infiltrated the nationwide organization? And how did the-men-who-don’t-belong fit in? Trent said the radio was active. Were they after Eloy themselves, or helping him escape? I was going to find out.
    The doors opened, and the cooler air of the deserted lobby brushed my anger-warmed face. I got across the tiny divide and started for the twin glass doors, looking for Trent’s car and not seeing it. Hesitating, I heard the lift close and immediately start back up.
    My eyes narrowed. Wayde, I thought, then frowned as I looked over the scantily decorated entryway. Three days ago, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to hurt him. Today, with a broken ankle, bruised ribs, a damaged hand, and a new outlook, I felt different.
    I stood and watched as the light held steady on Glenn’s floor, then began to drop again. “Stupid, tenacious Were,” I muttered as the elevator dinged and I hobbled to stand next to it, out of sight. I dropped my bag as the doors slid open, pulled back my crutch . . . and as he walked out of the elevator, I swung it at him.
    “Holy mother!” Wayde shouted, falling back into the elevator as my crutch hit the doors and splintered. I’d moved too soon.
    “Don’t follow me, Wayde!” I said as I got in front of the elevator and stopped the doors from shutting with my broken crutch. Wayde was pressed flat against the back of the car, his eyes wide as he stared. “I’m telling you, don’t follow me ! I need some time alone right now, okay?”
    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