Page 117 of Hoofin’ It

“Well, now I have to. And you call me a darkener of doorways.”

“Tell me what?”

Sighing, Quinton reclined beside me, stretching his legs and wiggling his bare toes. “I haven’t told Papa, but he’ll find out soon enough. Pierina called.”

My phone rang again, and with my eyes narrowing in suspicion, I reached over, grabbed it, and checked the display. Although I no longer hurt, my hands shook when I fumbled with the device, and it took two attempts to answer the call. “Gibson.”

“Shane!” Marian shrieked in my ear. “Where are you? What happened?”

Ouch. Grimacing, I resisted the urge to toss the device away. “Give me a sec,” I requested, turning my glare to Quinton. “By any chance, did Pierina call about Marian?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Sorry about that. I’m planning how best to make an entire brood of bloodsuckers suffer. Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” Marian snarled. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what the doctors said. You’re not supposed to be human. You need to be at the hospital if you’re human.”

“Marian, I’m fine. Really.” I hesitated, listening for the telltale beeps and noises I expected from a hospital. Wherever she was, it wasn’t a hospital. Distant horns honked, accompanying the familiar sounds of the city. “Where are you?”

“Lower Chicago, contemplating killing some civic engineers. I think I’m near the canal—god, the smell.”

The smell? “Wait, the smell?”

Quinton flinched. “It’s not my fault.”

With a soft, chiming laugh, Abil Ili waved his claws to claim the credit. “They broke our grate. When they restore our grate, we will restore our illusion.”

“I see. Yes, I’ve been told the spell over the canal is down. If you follow the smell, you should find it.”

“It makes me want to throw up.”

I didn’t blame her. The first time I’d smelled the canal, I’d thrown up. “Head to Michietti’s. Dare I ask how you escaped the hospital?”

“Out the window.”

“Are you naked?”

“No, Shane, I’m not running around Lower Chicago naked. How about you? Are you naked? Because from my understanding of the situation, you have no clothes. I’m amazed your phone survived. How’d you find it?”

“I’m wearing clothes! A suit, for that matter.”

Quinton snickered. “Give me the phone, Gibby.”

“The bloodsucker wants to talk to you.” Wrinkling my nose, I handed Quinton the device. “She’s wandering Lower Chicago, probably alone, and possibly wearing nothing but a hospital gown.”

Abil Ili’s laughter echoed in the cavern, chiming off the crystals. “I will make certain she finds her way here.”

“If you make her feel like she’s been kidnapped, I win a bet.”

Quinton jabbed me with his elbow. “Marian, it’s Quinton. Gibby’s quite fine, so don’t worry. What are you wearing?”

Before I had a chance to lunge for Quinton and take my phone back, Abil Ili’s tentacles wrapped around my chest, pinned my arms to my sides, and held me in place. I was aware of the pressure of all fourteen of his claws against my skin. “Be at ease. While you are healed, you still suffer from blood loss from his bite. Be calm. We will make sure no harm comes to your beloved.”

Since screaming ‘get it off!’ wouldn’t do me any good, I sat utterly still, aware of each pinprick of Abil Ili’s claws. Numbness spread through me, and I unwillingly relaxed into his hold.