Priceless

troll’s upper chest, massaging my fingers into the loose skin. “Do you know who I am?”
    “You’re that Tracker, who goes after kids,” he said, and I rubbed harder across his collarbone, inching closer to the dangling eye.
    The troll rumbled under my hand, the skin vibrating to the point of making it ripple like a bowl of Jello that had been shook. He puffed out his chest which stretched the skin, making it taut, the rumbling in his chest now caused a sound reminiscent of a large bull frog’s mating call. Gross. I bit back the disgust filling me, making me want to pull away. But I had to get that gun away from him.
    Like now.
    I reached up and grabbed the eye, squeezing it just short of it popping like a grape in my fingers.
    The troll howled and the gun swung toward my head. “Drop it!” I hung onto the eyeball, applying more pressure with one nail.
    He screeched, and then a body, O’Shea’s to be exact, tackled the troll to the ground, the gun pinned between them. The connective tissue to the eye snapped, the troll screeched again, and I was left standing there with an eyeball in my hands while O’Shea handcuffed the screaming, writhing troll like it was something he did regularly.
    Gun secured, O’Shea stood.
    I just stared at him. “I had it under control you know.”
    “I couldn’t watch you fondle that thing anymore,” he snapped.
    My jaw dropped, and I was about to tell him just where he could stick his meddling when a wave of fear hit me that was not my own.
    India.
    I froze and focused on her. She was terrified and her life force wavered. Shit, shit, shit.
    “We’ve gotta go,” I said. “India’s in trouble.”
    O’Shea glared at me. “You say that like it’s something new. Like she wasn’t in trouble before.”
    I wasn’t about to explain my ability to sense people, certainly not to him. “Get in the car, we’ve got to get weapons and get back out to the mine shaft. Now.”
    He started to go around to the driver’s side.
    “I’m driving,” I said, jogging to catch up to him.
    Hoisting the body of the young cop out of the seat, O’Shea let out a sharp breath. “Here, just let me move this for you.”
    The cop’s head rolled, exposing what was left of his brains inside the gaping black hole that had blown out the side of his head. Much as I didn’t want to admit that it was affecting me, the sight was almost too much. Muscles tensing, I fought against the emotions rising in me. Sorrow for his family, grief for him, and an unmistakable sense of regret that was not my own, but O’Shea’s. Damn. I clamped down, forcing the feelings back, and behind that came a bolt of terror that was pure child. India was panicking and that was not a good sign. She had to be the number one priority. I’d thought I had time to prep, but it was obvious that wasn’t going to be the case, which meant we were going to go barreling in there with next to nothing.
    We slid into the cop car. The blood on the back of my seat, trailing down my left side, was cool, but not yet starting to dry. I put my hands on the wheel, jumping as the radio came to life, the voice static-filled, but still loud.
    “Bravo Echo thirty-nine, come in. Over.” I turned to look at O’Shea.
    “You’d better answer this one, Agent.”
    He picked up the receiver and answered back. “Bravo Echo thirty-nine. Here. Over.”
    The response was surprising.
    “Please disregard the instructions to bring the prisoners to the main jail; an unmarked will be intersecting with you to take over their transport.” The radio clicked off and I shared a look with O’Shea while he answered again in the affirmative before turning off the radio.
    “That can’t be good,” I said. “Why wouldn’t they just allow the transport to continue as is?”
    “Could be FBI. Could be one of your uglies has taken over.”
    “Hey!”“ They aren’t
my
uglies.”
    O’Shea blew out a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whatever it is, it won’t be good for us, and certainly not for India.”
    For once, we were in agreement, though it came a little too late.
    I started the police cruiser as two black vans screeched to a halt, pinning us down. I held my breath, expecting more trolls or maybe a golem, but all that poured out of the nondescript vans were humans.
    FBI agents covered in riot gear pointed guns and tazers at us, but other than that, I let out a breath. This could be handled.
    “They aren’t going to let us go