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Half a block up a portal formed, crackling and popping with sparks of magic. A foggy haze surrounded it, and another wave of magic filled the air.
Clarence yelped and staggered into the street, while Grove started pulling bottles from his bag.
Orrin pulled a dagger—a big one about as long as my forearm—from thin air. He rushed Binx raising the dagger into a stabbing position aimed at Binx’s right side.
I lunged across the sidewalk releasing the gun with my right hand and raising it up to block his strike. His dagger hit the metal strip sewn into the top of my glove for this specific purpose.
My hand shook and turned numb—even if the edge couldn’t cut through my reinforced gloves, it was a lot of force for my hand to absorb. If I was a normal human, he could have broken my bones.
But, numbed hand or not, my training kicked in.
Maim him—so he can’t run.
Keeping my right hand up, I aimed my gun with my left hand and shot his foot. He was wearing simple leather boots, so the bullet went through his foot.
Orrin yelled in pain and stumbled backwards.
Pain still vibrated in my hand, but I had enough control that I was able to grab Orrin’s wrist. He tried to throw his dagger at Binx, but I caught it midair. Unfortunately, I had to catch it by the bladed edge, which cut through my glove like butter, biting into my hand.
Shoot!
“Binx—I’ve got blood on the weapon!” I warned her before I tossed it on the sidewalk—she’d have to handle the cleanup so Clarence wouldn’t get hurt.
Thankfully, the nervous vampire was about as far away from me and my poisonous blood as he could get at the moment. He scuttled across the street reaching the squad’s silent SUV. He tried the handle of the front door, which surprisingly opened. I glanced over just long enough to see April, seated in the driver’s seat, slumped over the steering wheel.
We can assume, then, that we don’t have any backup.
A grinding noise echoed from the portal, but I focused on Orrin.
I need to immobilize him in a way that won’t minimize my movements.
I could have shot him—the Cloisters probably wouldn’t have cared too much if he died and bled out in the process. Supernatural justice is a lot bloodier and less forgiving than the human version. The whole point of joining the task force was that I was sick of death, so it was going to be a last resort.
I jabbed my fingers in Orrin’s eyes—a move he wasn’t expecting and that provoked a pained yelp from him—then grabbed his wrist and slunk around to his back, holding his arm at an angle so it would be easy to wrench. (I might want to avoid killing, but I was still going to use the Slayer method of fighting—brutal and dirty.)
I was able to plant my gun on his back so I could flick the safety back on.
Binx carefully picked up the tainted dagger. Wrapping it in a cloth she pulled from her belt, before slipping it in a plastic bag she pulled out of her pocket. Clarence opened up the back door of the SUV revealing an unconscious Brody and Tetiana, while Grove sprinted towards the hissing portal.
Orrin tried to twist in my grasp as I holstered my gun, so I yanked his arm higher and hooked my leg in front of his so I could grind my heel on his injured foot.
Orrin sagged in my arms, buying me a moment to assess the situation.
I exhaled, expanding my senses, taking in the light pole about six feet away—too big to be of use unless I wanted to smack Orrin’s head against it—a bench, and—perfect!—a sign pole that marked a crosswalk.
Applying a knee to Orrin’s back, I pushed him into the sign pole and simultaneously yanked a set of cuffs from my belt. I slapped one of the wristlets on his right hand—he’d held the dagger in his right hand, so he was probably right-handed—then snapped the free end of the cuffs around the sign pole, leashing him.
Okay, he’s apprehended. Next step would be to incapacitate him so he can’t use his magic—
“Um, Blood? We’ve got a big problem!” Grove shouted.
With Orrin’s right hand cuffed to the light pole, I grabbed his left hand by the wrist and pulled back on one of his fingers so that if he tried something I could pull the finger further back and break it. (Brutal, and dirty, but still effective! On Orrin, anyway. This wouldn’t work on Ruin.)
With Orrin groaning and reasonably secured, I clenched my injured fingers together to minimize the bleeding—the cuts weren’t very deep, but cleanup would be a pain if I dribbled tiny droplets everywhere—then turned to peer up the street just in time to see a massive snake emerge from the portal, its molten orange eyes glowing in the misty night.
Half cobra, half prehistoric monster, the snake had a hood with a black scale design, and a forked tongue that glowed like lava. Its scales were plated—my gun was going to be useless on it—and it was so big it hadn’t slithered all the way out of the portal yet. I could have climbed it like a jungle gym.
It was from the fae realm—it reeked with the burnt stench of the uninhabited parts of their realm.
