A Perfect Blood

Ever.
    “You will not notice anything out of the ordinary when we are gone,” the captain continued, “and you, Mark, will change your entrance code at the back door to 0101 like I told you the last time. Got it?”
    Mark bobbed his head. “Yes, sir.”
    I could feel the demon curse hazing through me, spilling along my muscles like slow tequila as it neutralized the toxins. “And maybe repaint the floor with some metallic circles so I can catch people easier,” I added, making the captain of the-men-who-don’t-belong frown.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Mark said obediently, and the captain turned to Trent and me.
    “You’re not going to get away with this,” I said, frustrated anger filling me. “I hate memory charms! They don’t last. We will remember.” I’d make sure of that. It might take me a week in Al’s library, but I’d find a way to return Trent’s memory. I didn’t want to be the only one to remember this—the way he looked, what he did to see the run through. How dare they take that away, a moment when he was exactly who he wanted to be? It was only two hours, but it was the stuff that made us who we were.
    I jerked back as the captain reached for me, finding his hand behind my neck as his other hand pulled my lower eyelid down to see how my pupils were dilated. “Which is precisely why we don’t use them, Ms. Morgan,” he said softly as he gauged my state. “I prefer old-fashioned drugs.”
    “Get off,” I snarled, and he jerked his hand back as I tried to hit him.
    Eyes narrowed, the captain leaned away. “You both will forget the entire evening,” he said, and I glared at him. “Including the realization that HAPA has infiltrated the FIB. We’re getting them one by one, and your interference is sending them deeper. HAPA does not exist anymore as far as you’re concerned.”
    Bullshit. But I forced myself to relax like Trent and Mark were, pretending. I let my hands unclench, and my shoulders slumped. Beside me, Trent breathed, slow and relaxed. I’m sorry, Trent. I will get your memory back for you. I promise.
    Head bobbing, I watched the captain huff as if satisfied, then glance up at the doctor, standing at the end of the table. “Well?” the captain said, and the doctor looked at his watch.
    “They won’t remember a thing,” the man said, his European accent harsh. “Not even how they got here.”
    “Good. Let’s go. Lady. Gentlemen,” he said, hands on the table as he rose. Without a backward glance, they headed for the door. Just as they reached it, the captain hesitated, turning with one hand raised in question. “Oh, and if you ever interfere with another one of my actions, I will put both of you in the cells next to those cretins we just caught. I have lots of room in my facility, and unlike Alcatraz, I’ve never had anyone break out. Elf. Vampire. Were, or witch.”
    Touching his forehead in salute, he turned to leave, holding the door for the laughing couple coming in. Depressed, I sat for a moment as the bells jingled against the door.
    That’s a different chime, I thought as I looked up. My eyes were damp, and I wiped them. How was I going to explain to Trent why he was here dressed in thief black and with his lip swollen? He’d never believe me.
    Something hit my foot, and I jerked my attention to Mark as he slid out from the bench, confusion pinching his eyes. “Ah, I’ll have your coffee in a sec,” he said, glancing at the seat as if wondering why he had been in it. “What was it you wanted?”
    I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. “I’d like a grand latte, double espresso, Italian blend—”
    “Light on the froth, heavy on the cinnamon, with a pump of raspberry in it?” he finished, starting to smile. “I remember. And for you . . .” He looked at Trent. “It was a grand latte, hazelnut, with two pumps, right? You were in here last week.”
    “If you would,” Trent said, his low voice sounding as depressed as I felt.
    Mark strode briskly away, his pace jerking to a pained slowness after three steps. Rubbing his shoulder as if confused, he went behind the counter, pulling his sleeve up to look at the new bruise in the making.
    “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Trent whispered as if to himself. “I should have worked harder to find a memory charm that worked on demons.”
    My head jerked up. “You remember?”
    Trent’s jaw dropped. “B-but . . .” he stammered, his eyes going to my arm where they had injected me.
    “You remember!” I