I shoved Eli across the room, into the corner. Holding back. The breath blasted out of him. “I was careful, so I didn’t hurt you. Much,” I yelled. “I ain’t no cheater, you ass.”
This time Eli didn’t twitch. He slapped the back of my head. Not hard but it stung. And it was on, as I kicked his shins. Like a grade school child. I charged him clumsily and we spun around together. Maneuvering us toward the corner farthest from the door. We splashed though a wet spot on the floor. My feet flew and I nearly fell. I screeched, kicked over four chairs and a small table, sending them crashing. A chair tripped Eli. We both went down.
As I fell I realized we had all three employees, a man and two women, racing to us, away from the entrance. Perfect. Except that I hit the floor, landing hard on my elbow. Pain sparked through me. My left hand went numb. A wounded breath whistled out of me.
Eli roared with fake fury. “You sleeping with Jimmy Ray!”
“I’m not, but if I did, his dick would be bigger than yours. Your mama told me so!”
“You bes’ be leaving my mama outta dis!”
The helpful employees were trying to separate us and pull us to our feet. I screamed, keeping their attention on me as Rick dashed in from the storm and raced around the counter, into the kitchen. He vanished into the back.
“Lemme go!” I shouted, standing up. “You can take your silly insecurities and shove ’em where the sun don’t shine!” I elbowed my way out of the group and out the door. Into the shadows and the freezing rain. Rubbing my elbow and my scalp and muttering, “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow,” as freezing rain blasted into my collar and down my back. My legs froze in the icy wet wind. Stupid girly clothes.
“Janie said dick,” Alex said into my earbud. “And ass.”
“Shut up,” I said, breathing hard, laughing and wheezing in pain under my breath. “Holy crap, this hurts. And it’s called Method acting.”
“It’s called foul language,” he countered. “I get pizza.”
“Whatever.”
The SUV’s lights flashed. I dashed to it and inside, into the amazing warmth of the heater and the towel Bruiser held out to me. I stripped, dried off, and wrapped up in a blanket, unfolding the new armor as my arm regained some painful sensation and movement. We listened to the angry banter between Eli and the store employees as I changed into the dry long underwear and the new armored uniform. Eli ordered a dozen tacos of various different kinds, putting down the now ex-girlfriend. It was colorful and Eli managed to sound like a total . . . well, a total dick. His ex-girlfriend had been a smart chick when she left him. A good ten minutes later Eli raced through the rain and got into the backseat.
“Dude,” Alex said over the headphones. “I am like, totally awestruck. Can I have your autograph?”
“What about me?” I asked. “You don’t want my autograph?”
“Only if I can have it on a naked picture of one of the Kardashians.”
Eli passed out tacos. “The cook said the shredded chicken is the best, but the two chicks said the pork is worth dying for.”
I got one of each and we chowed down, me wrapped in a blanket, listening to Rick, following his progress via softly spoken bursts of comments. His voice deepened, growing scratchy as he narrated his passage, which showed up on the SUV’s screen, and I realized he was wearing an IR monocular. And he was fighting going catty with the stress, even though it wasn’t the full moon. I wasn’t sure how much control Rick had over his wereleopard. If he lost control, this could get rough. “Walkway into parking area between buildings,” he murmured. “Five vehicles. Three food trucks. Two limos. One of the limos is still hot.” Which meant it had pulled in recently. Which meant people inside the warehouse somewhere. “I smell DBs.”
Dead bodies. Got it. I tensed all over and the taco curdled in my stomach. Brian and Brandon were likely inside the warehouse somewhere. So was Grégoire. Hopefully still alive. I wrapped the rest of the food and put it back in the bag.
“No visible security cams,” Rick said. “No lights on. Moving from the back of Pepe’s around each of the trucks.”
Eli murmured to us, “We have new visual from Gee on tablet.” Black-and-white video shifted to low-light images from overhead. I could see Rick, barely, in between two food trucks, near the edge of the warehouse’s narrow roof.
Derek said softly, “Pulling around the block. Positioned a hundred feet from the vehicle entrance at twelve.”
Rick half growled, “Approaching alpha five. No cams noted. Door is open. Repeat, door is not locked. Entering.”
I heard a door open and close and thought for a moment about Rick being a cop. Needing probable cause or a judge’s signature on a warrant to enter private property. He had neither. Yet he was going in. Because paranormal creatures—like me, like the vamps we were going after—had no legal rights. None. Our law-keeping was done in the trenches, with blades and guns and no mercy. Something cold and hard formed in my heart. But now was not the time to look at that. Now was the time to get my people back.
The ambient noise in my earbud changed, the shushing sound vanishing. The sleet had been left outside. The images on the screen were now split, one side overhead, low light, the other attached to Rick’s monocular IR camera. In it I saw a small room with a table and too many chairs, all dark. No residual heat from a watchman or a guard who might have ducked out. I watched as Rick moved through the cramped space like a cat, in a sinuous path to the door at the end. He leaned in and I heard him sniff at the crack where door met jamb. He rolled to the floor and looked under the door, sniffing again. “I smell fangheads,” he snarled.
“Rick,” I said. “Stop.” Eli and Bruiser swiveled their heads to me in surprise. “Your cat is close to the surface. I want you to stand and move into a corner so your back is covered from two sides. Now. Move now, Rick.”
He growled, the sound soft and menacing. The camera view repositioned as Rick backed into a corner.
“Breathe,” I said. “In. Hold it. And out, slowly. Again, in. Hold it. And out, slowly. Again. Do it. That’s good. One more time.”
“Thanks,” he said, a few breaths later, sounding more human. “Meditation stuff. I’ll remember that. Going through the door now.”
The door opened and Rick slid through, closing it behind him. On the camera, we saw an angle of the interior of the beta arm of the warehouse. What I could see of it suggested that it was a huge space, with the support beams exactly where they had been originally, but affixed with some kind of metal ties that indicated walls had once been secured in various arrangements. The floor around the outside walls was piled with office furniture, a few couches, and myriad tools including a forklift and barrels and shovels. My heart clenched when I focused on what might be a saw with an adjustable overhead arm and huge blade, a model number in big letters on one side. But the blade wasn’t bloody and I relaxed. Just a bit.