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The ball of blue energy hit the glass . . . and bounced right back toward us.
"Crap," Catcher said, yanking me to the ground just as the ball of magic flew over our heads. It grazed my ponytail, singeing the edges and sending the scent of burning hair into the air.
The fireball hit the fire door behind us, exploding with a sound like the firing of a jet engine, the force throwing open the door hard enough that it clanged against the back wall.
"Good Lord, man!" I said. "Are you trying to kill us?" I swatted at the sparks in my hair, wincing as the sparks bit into my fingertips.
"It would have only disabled her. The mirror must have distorted the magic."
"Yeah, well," I said, glancing up just in time to see Robin disappear through the fire door at the other end of the hallway. "She's getting away."
"Little busy here," Catcher muttered behind me. When I looked back, he was stomping out sparks in the carpet behind us.
Robin Pope was gone, and we'd just torched a hallway in a very posh apartment building. I could only imagine the shit we were both going to get when our bosses found out how poorly this particular mission had gone.
"So much for Robin Pope not having any fighting skills," I said.
Catcher stepped out a final bit of smoldering ash and glanced back at me. "I didn't know she did. It didn't turn up in her background search."
"I think it's safe to say she knows something."
He nodded. "She's involved in it. We don't have the resources to tail her. I'll talk to Chuck about getting Jacobs involved. I'll also have Jeff run a deeper background, see if she has any other connections to the rioters, a Web site, whatever."
I swirled a finger in the air, gesturing at the burn marks on the carpet and bubbled paint on the door. "I think we also let the condo association believe Ms. Pope was at fault here with all this. Pope's a cowardly racist; I'm not letting her off the hook for that. She can pay for a little paint and carpet."
"A lot of carpet, actually," Catcher grimly said. "And technically, she was at fault. The damage only happened because she attacked you and bolted."
A siren began to wail in the distance.
"And that's our cue to exit," I said.
"Agreed," Catcher said, glancing back at the crispy door. "Fire exit?"
"It seems appropriate." The pain in my shin was already beginning to subside, so I half limped, half ran to the fire door and followed Catcher down the stairs.
"Ha-ha," he said.
"Vampires have a highly developed sense of humor. What building would you like to destroy next?"
"None. But I want to visit the one that was nearly destroyed. Let's see what Ms. Bryant has to say about her former employee."
-
I got into the car and rolled back into traffic and away from the scene, trying my best to look completely uninterested in the CPD cruisers that passed me, lights blazing.
I hopped onto the freeway, heading northwest for Wicker Park, and didn't stop checking my rearview mirror until I'd reached the Milwaukee Avenue exit. I pulled into the first parking lot I could find, then took a breath and picked up my phone.
There was no message from Jonah, which I took as a good sign, even with the blacklisting. If he'd discovered something really important, he'd have found a way to get the information to us.
I called the Ops Room, hoping to get Luc, and possibly Ethan, on the phone.
"Jimmy's House of Vampires," Luc answered, in a really poor Bronx accent.
"That was unimpressive," I said, "but our visit with Robin Pope was not. She thinks the Bryants are involved in a conspiracy - paying off government employees and maybe sleeping with them to stay open - and she bolted when we mentioned it."
"That's good stuff," Luc said. "Except that when you say 'bolted,' it sounds like she got away from you and Catcher. A vampire and a sorcerer with extreme magical powers."
"Which, it turns out, don't work that well indoors," I said. "And she did get away from us, after a minor battle in her apartment building's hallway. But her behavior was suspicious enough that Catcher thinks the CPD will be interested. He's going to make the call."
"I like the part about the CPD involvement," he said. "I'm less crazy about the 'minor battle' bit. Did anyone see you there?"
"Other than Pope, not that I'm aware of. Security desk was empty."
"Where are you heading next?"
"The distribution center. I'm halfway there."
"Be careful," he said. "It sounds like you've already had a full night."
"Fuller than I'd intended," I admitted. "And feel free not to mention that to Ethan. He'd only worry."
Luc snorted. "He'll worry regardless. It's his job to worry. But you're right - no sense in adding to the night's list. And keep us posted."
I assured him I would, and I hoped the next report would leave me feeling considerably less guilty.
-
Unlike the hallway of the building in Greektown, Wicker Park actually looked better than it had last night. Broken windows had been boarded up, battered cars had been moved, and streetlights had been repaired. It was surprisingly quick work for a city often slogged by bureaucracy.
I hadn't seen Bryant Industries the night before, or ever that I recalled. The building was easy enough to spot - a large, low structure surrounded by a tidy hedge.
The damage was easy to spot, too. Half the front was a blackened husk, from the door, which sat right in the middle, across one side. Charred interior beams were visible through the gap in the front, and they hung down at odd angles. The rest of the building bore marks from the fire and smoke, and the small lawn in front was littered with blackened debris. Yellow police tape kept members of the press and curious onlookers away from the building.
I pulled into a parking spot on the street. Snow and ice crunching beneath my feet, I quickly crossed the street toward the building and the crowd. The smell of smoke and charred wood grew stronger as I moved, along with something else . . . the copper smell of blood.
I was walking toward a blood distribution center, and I hadn't bothered to drink blood before leaving the House. The croissant I'd grabbed on the way out wasn't doing much. I felt a sudden perk of vampiric interest, and my stomach rumbled ominously. I'd been so busy thinking about the motivations for the crime that I hadn't prepared myself for it. That had been thoughtless, but there was nothing to do about it now except try to maintain control and hope I didn't fang out in front of the human bystanders.
