A Perfect Blood

demon!”
    I dove for Eloy as he moved to sit up. Sliding, I kicked the gun from him, then continued my foot’s arch to smack his head. Grunting, he slid back, before I connected, hatred in his eyes. I grinned savagely, and he smiled back.
    “I said stop!” Dr. Cordova shouted again. “Or I kill the kid. Right here. Right now.”
    Shit.
    I stopped.
    My sour expression turned to fear as Dr. Cordova dragged Mark out from behind the counter, her arm around his neck and that honking huge pistol pressed into his temple. Shit, shit, shit! I’d really messed this up. Trent limped out from behind the counter from the opposite side and joined me. His hair was wild, and his eyes were dark with anger. Tense and jerky, he helped me to my feet, and I palmed my chalk to him in the process. “Where’s the jogger?” I said breathily as I watched Dr. Cordova yank Mark closer to Eloy and the back door.
    Touching his lip and finding it swollen, Trent shook his head. “He pulled out. I think we’re on our own.”
    At least he isn’t dead behind the counter. “Aren’t we always?” I said bitterly, scraping my resolve together. So we had to bring them in ourselves now. Damn it, they had Mark. The kid looked terrified. The memory of Winona surfaced, and my heart clenched. Not Mark. Not him.
    “You want to take his place?” Eloy looked far too confident.
    “Rachel, no.”
    I shook Trent’s hand off me. “Finish that circle. Get them into it. Invoke it. That’s the plan,” I breathed, my heart pounding. I had to buy Trent some time. This was the only way.
    Hands up, I stepped in front of Trent. “You’ve been a bad boy, Eloy,” I said. “Murdering what scares you. That’s not how grown-ups solve problems. And, Cordova? I’d like to have five minutes alone with you. Maybe show you up close and personal what that bastard did to Winona. You know Winona, right? Cloven feet, horns, red pelt? Can’t miss her.”
    Mark was frozen in her grip, too scared to move. His eyes were on mine, terrified. “Charms on the table,” she said, the strain obvious in her voice, and I took another step forward.
    “Here’s the sitch,” I said, locking my knees so they wouldn’t see them shake. I wasn’t afraid, I was mad. “The guy in the corner just stepped out to get his buddies. He’s got lots of friends with really cool toys, and if you don’t let Mark go this instant, I’m going to get mad enough to do something I’m going to regret. I’m a demon, Cordova. Don’t push me.”
    Cordova jammed her weapon into Mark a little harder. “Charms on the table. Now!”
    Eloy was touching the back of his head where he’d hit the floor. His gun was again pointed at Trent. Mark’s eyes were clenched closed, and his lips were moving. In a charm? I wondered, my heart pounding hard. Probably a prayer.
    A part of me said the hell with it. Take a chance. But the fear of becoming careless with other people’s lives was stronger. I had to be more careful now, not less, and I angled an arm down to let my bag hit the floor. Trent’s charms spilled everywhere, and my phone slipped out.
    “Rachel, wait.”
    It was Trent, and Dr. Cordova jammed the mouth of her weapon harder into Mark’s head, making him gasp. Eloy’s aim shifted to me, and I strengthened my hold on the line, ready to make a circle.
    “Not now, Trent,” I said. “It’s me they want.”
    “No, it isn’t.”
    Mark opened an eye slightly, and I risked a quick look at Trent, standing beside me in his loose-fitting, head-to-toe black, smelling of wine and broken wood as he lifted his chin and dared me to protest. He looked ticked, but not at me. “What are you doing?”
    He shook his head, looking far too calm and in control. “This is not utilizing our skills to their fullest extent,” he said softly, his hand on my shoulder, and then he sent his gaze past me to them. “I know how to stabilize the Rosewood enzymes,” he said loudly, and I stiffened. “I’m the one you want. Not her.”
    “Trent!” I exclaimed, a thread of panic coming from out of nowhere to tighten around my heart, and he pushed me behind him, surreptitiously handing my magnetic chalk back. “What are you doing?”
    “Something you won’t,” he said, and then his eyes touched on mine. “You’re a good person. Don’t change because I’m a bastard.” Anger and frustration filled him, and then . . . as he turned so they couldn’t see . . . I saw a thread of excitement running behind