Walter and Rocas entered the house. On his lenses, EJ saw the blood pooled and splattered everywhere. Furniture overturned. Stoneware broken. A woman sprawled on the floor, half hidden behind an open refrigerator door. Walter darted to the victim. Rocas disappeared from the screen. The woman was so covered in blood that from Walter’s camera angle, EJ had no idea who or what species she was, only that she breathed, a wet, blood-slobbering sound.
Rocas reappeared in the screen. Walter pointed to the right. “Unsub.” Her weapon in a two-hand grip, the sergeant stepped into a dark room before disappearing from the screen.
Visible in the micro cam, Walter sliced his wrist with his right fang and placed the bloody flow at the woman’s mouth. He leaned in and began to lick her wounds, clotting the ones he could see and could reach with his tongue with his saliva.
EJ heard bells, cracked, broken, the sound of bones shattering. He knew that sound.
The kid rang the doorbell.
Angie
I woke to stabbing pain. My body arched away from the steel. Drawing to the right, away from the heart strike. Mind whirling. Visions in swathes of bloody scarlet.
I threw off the afghan, dislodging Aurora, who yowled like a banshee. Barefooted, I ripped weapons from their hidingplaces as my conscious mind came awake. My Clever Gurl knife was open in one hand. In the other was the staff, lifted from where EJ had placed it. Blue light brightened the green walls, flashing like a strobe from the labradorite capstone.
Bloody light. Death.The vision ripped me with its claws.EJ!
The staff in the crook of an elbow, I took a small sheath from the wall, closed and stuck the knife in it to protect my wool pocket. Slung a war-era AE headset on, pressed the ear-patches over my ears, and tapped it on, though I had no idea what channel they were on. I activated it and heardOjos’s faint tone as the headset merged with my unicom wristband. “Search for The Firm’s comms,” I said. The AE was an Audio Equalization Pass Filter System I had taken when I left Asshat, and was totally illegal to own—therefore Karson hadn’t tried to get it back in the divorce. Satisfaction shot through me, adrenaline strengthening my precog gift.
Blood. Blood everywhere.I adjusted the nearly invisible eyepieces out of the way.
My head thrummed with the beat of my heart.Pain. That strengthened my gift too. If it got too strong, I’d lose awareness of the present, fall into the possibilities, and not be able to stop what hadn’t yet happened. Precog was a double-edged sword. Pain had brought on my battle magic. I might need the pain.
I slammed my bare feet into boots. Found another headset, older, with fewer capabilities, but still functional. On one headset, I called a Chat-uber. On the AE, I dialed 911.
911 rang and rang.
With that headset still ringing, I ordered a ride. Snatched up an unlicensed handset, a handful of cash, and threw on my cloak, too fast. The cloak falling over my shoulders and down my body felt like being tased. The world gyrated around me. Nausea climbed my throat, acid hot. My head pounded. Icaught a glimpse in the mirror—cloak, staff, and still wearing the stupid tiara with rosemary poking out. I looked like an idiot, but I left the jewelry in place, in case it was helping and the pain was actually worse, as in incapacitating.
I raced for the door, down the stairs. Out into the icy night. Into the Chat-uber. I gave the address, tossed a hundred-dollar bill at him, and told him there was another hundred dollars if he got there in five minutes. The man, who had a strong Latino accent, found the address on his app and took off as fast his tiny Ford-el-car allowed.
Bloody-bloody-bloody. Screaming. EJ dead.
My chest ached. My breath came short. My magics swirled around me, glaring, piercing, indistinct, and vague.
In the silence of the Uber, I pulled the premonition to me—half dream, half warning, all hazy and blood-drenched. My brother, a human man, and a woman were in danger. Or would be in danger. Very,verysoon.
Son of a witch…
Syncing both the legal and illegal AE headsets, I tried the channels The Firm usually used, asking for EJ. Asking for Walter. No one answered. Had they even brought headsets? I hadn’t seen one on EJ. I adjusted the tall staff so I could grab it better when we arrived and tugged my cloak around me, covering thin wool yoga pants and tee. I was not dressed for public, and the cloak was not made for warmth.
911 still rang. On the other device I called EJ. Voice mail.
I called Walter. Voice mail.
911 answered. “Emergency services. What is the nature of your—”
I interrupted and ID’d myself to the operator. “This is Angelina Everhart-Trueblood. My brother and anyone with him are in danger.”
“Not to worry, Miz Trueblood,” the dispatcher said. “There are officers on scene. And Detective Leandro Villetti is following the action on the vest cams.”
“One is about to die. Patch me through. Now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”
The heat of anger exploded in my chest with wrenching agony. I shouted, “By the order of the Dark Queen, patch me through!”
“Ummm—”
