“Your boy’s bleeding,” she said, nodding at the footprints on the concrete.
“Not my boy,” I said, but she was already gone, moving up the access stairs like a rumor, Courage barking as she went.
Marvin hit the parking garage and doubled back through the first level, using the pillars as cover. He was smart enough to know the main elevator would be watched, so he ducked into the stairwell, leaving a trail of sweat and blood. I followed, keeping one floor below, listening for the shuffle of feet or the clang of the stairwell door. He wasn’t quiet, none of them ever were, but adrenaline did things to the senses, and mine were currently dialed to “dog with a bone.”
On the third level, I heard the whine of an engine. For a second, I thought it was a delivery truck, but then I caught the echo of Marvin’s voice. “Come on, come on, come on.”
He’d jacked a car. Sure enough. A moment later, a Buick, a primer-grey monstrosity, came barreling up the ramp, fishtailing around the turn with a sound like an asthmatic banshee. I barely had time to register the move before he aimed it straight at me. Instinct told me to jump out of the way. My training said to get the plate, get the direction, and keep him in sight.
I dove between a pair of parked pickups, rolling across the slush-slicked concrete as the Buick clipped a mirror and set off its alarm. Marvin floored it, but the front right tire was low, and he misjudged the ramp’s angle. The Buick slammed into a concrete pylon, crumpling the front end and launching Marvin into the dashboard.
The car’s horn stuck, blaring endlessly.
I approached with caution, ready for another volley. Marvin was dazed, nose bleeding, and mouth working at words that wouldn’t form. I held my breath so the smell of his blood wouldn’t invite my fangs to the party. Thankfully, I didn’t technically have to breathe. Izora had a million years of restraint to help her, but I was still a baby vamp. We would definitely be stopping off at Catch and Release for a drink on the way home.
Marvin tried to unbuckle, but the seatbelt had locked up. He clawed at it, frantic, then gave up and started kicking the windshield from the inside.
Izora appeared at the passenger window, her smile wide as a crescent moon. She tapped the glass, wagged her finger. “Don’t do that. It’s rude.”
I yanked at the driver’s door. The frame had warped in the crash, but I put my vamp strength behind it and felt the pop as it gave. Marvin shrank away, then, when he met my gaze, he slumped into a pose of exaggerated surrender. Charmed by my weird, rogue powers.
“You’re done,” I said, more tired than triumphant.
He spat a gob of blood onto the floormat. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
I did, actually. The guy ate an entire large cheese steak in one sitting and then faked a heart attack to avoid paying. I cuffed him, checked for weapons, and hauled him out of the car. Now that I was touching him, he fell even further under my charm powers.
“Marvin,” I said, lifting his chin with a finger and putting affection into my voice, “buddy. Stay.”
He blinked and then flopped onto the pavement.
Izora watched the whole thing, arms crossed, then said. “You could have let me break his arm. It would have been faster.”
“I’m supposed to bring him in alive,” I said flatly. “Not mangled.”
She shrugged. “Alive is overrated.”
I waited until Marvin stopped struggling, then dragged him up by the cuffs. He glared at me, face streaked with snot and blood. “My lawyer is going to destroy you,” he said, though I doubted he could spell “lawyer.”
“Your lawyer is a public defender named Kevin,” I said, “and he’s terrified of me. Up.”
We frog-marched him to the SUV, where Izora loaded him into the backseat with the efficiency of a bored bouncer at closing time. I called Jordan Leslie, one hand on the wheel, the other braced against the dash as Marvin whimpered in the back.
“Got your guy,” I said. “He’s a little banged up but mostly intact. ETA thirty minutes, traffic permitting.”
Jordan cackled. “You’re a marvel, Whitfield. I’ll have a check waiting for you.”
We hit the main road and headed to the police station. Izora stretched, then leaned her head against the glass, already bored. Courage was asleep, still inside the carrier strapped to Izora’s chest. Marvin sulked in the back, muttering threats to no one in particular. I just drove, content for once in the peace that follows a job well done.
12
HAILEY
A couple of days later,on the other side of the portal, Ransom was waiting. “Hailey. Jax,” Ransom said. His tone was calm, but his eyes were edged with something that might have been fatigue or desperation.
“Any updates?” I asked.
Ransom didn’t waste time. “Vaelog’s human form is still in the secure facility in Milan. Dominic says he’s irredeemable. Won’t speak, won’t even acknowledge people. He’s a weapon without a handler.”
