Twenty paces from the Hellcat, I clicked the button on my key fob, then muttered an inchoate curse, fighting the urge to smash the useless bit of plastic to pieces.
Lil, who was ten paces closer to the car than I was, walked through the pitchy shadows of the parking garage like she was out for a lazy Sunday stroll. On hearing my bellyaching, she turned and shot me a bemused look.
“Problems?”
“Fucking batteries,” I snarled.
She snorted. “Be glad the mortals haven’t figured out how to power their guns with that lithium-ion stuff. You’d be screwed.”
That just reminded me of the man I’d shot in the face. Two people had died by my hand in as many days—maybe unavoidably, maybe not.
One floor below us, I could hear Remy moving things around—and by “things,” I meant bodies. Under the scheming auspices of his Decimus, Saliriel, Remy had been manipulating criminal investigations in the city since the days of the Mayfield Road Gang. I shouldn’t have resented the Nephilim’s influence over the local police—it enabled me to fight some of the nastier things that ran amok in the city, and not end up with a jail sentence.
A necessary evil.
Didn’t mean I had to like it.
I ground my teeth, and moved faster to get the fuck out of this lightless vault of death and cars.
* * *
Dropping into the bucket seat behind the wheel, I unlocked all the doors from the controls on the armrest. The engine turned over with a comforting rumble, and I felt grateful for one aspect of the parking garage—the cover it provided. If I’d parked in the open lot, I’d have spent the next ten minutes scraping snow and ice off the car.
The iPod skipped from Nick Cave to Jim Morrison crooning “Riders on the Storm.” I didn’t even remember that being on the playlist.
Lil squinted, then threw her head back and laughed.
“A personal soundtrack with a side of irony?”
I had an inkling now it was Lailah, exerting some kind of control over the sound system. Just then, it was a tease more than a comfort, and the frustration at my continued inability to perceive her reached critical mass. I yanked out the wires and chucked the device behind me without looking to see where it landed.
“That temper, Zack,” Lil chided.
“Stuff it,” I growled.
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. If she had any sense of her sister, she wasn’t sharing, which pissed me off more. I white-knuckled the steering wheel while I fumed, adrenaline from the fight still jolting through all my limbs. Lil grew bored, redirecting her attention to her phone. Squinting at my hastily scrawled sticky note, she entered the Kramer address into her mapping function.
“Under five miles,” she announced. “Major roads till we get to Whitethorn. Shouldn’t be too bad, even with this snow.” She tilted the screen so I could see it.
“I know the way to that part of town,” I growled.
“So get a move on,” she urged.
I put the car into gear, but kept my foot on the brake.
“We need to check on Halley.”
Lil gave a choking cough. “I can count six reasons that say we’re getting the hell out of here before Remy’s police friends arrive,” she snapped.
“There were six?”
“Counting the one you put down, yes,” she replied. “Now drive before we have bigger problems than a hit squad.”
“The last time the hit squad was a distraction,” I said. “He’s not after us. He’s after the girl.”
“The hospital has security,” she replied. “How far do you think they’d get?”
“We got pretty far,” I answered.
She smacked the dash. “At least move this damned thing while we argue.”
Conceding that much, I pulled out and started threading my way down to the exit.
“We just need to make sure she’s safe,” I insisted.
“Mother’s Tears,” Lil hissed. Radiating impatience, she dug around in her purse, and produced a loop of string with half a dozen green beads still attached—and a single flat pink one.
“For fuck’s sake, Lil,” I snarled—and nearly ran over one of the sprawled attackers as I took the turn to the lower level. Not that hitting him would do anything but make a mess. He was dead already. Reaching out with one hand, I tried to nab what was left of the rosary from Lil.
She jerked it swiftly away.
“You were supposed to destroy that!”
“I did… mostly,” she allowed, dropping it back into her handbag. “But it’s this they’re tracking. Since you’re so hell-bent on keeping that girl alive, I thought it would be useful to draw them away.”
“That’s—that’s brilliant, Lil.”
She opened her mouth, then blinked in stupefaction.
“Did someone drop you on your head, flyboy?”
“I thought you wanted the girl dead,” I responded.
She sighed. “I like to be prepared—and I know what kind of bleeding heart you’ve become.” She tossed her curls back from her face, her expression cold as the wintry night beyond the car. “I still think killing her would solve a host of problems, but I know to pick my fights.”
That didn’t exactly leave me thrilled, but I didn’t push her on the subject. We drew up to the kiosk a moment later. The bar was down, and it was automated. Useless as fuck with the power still out.
“Just drive through,” Lil said.
I shook my head, putting the car into park. “Paint transfer,” I explained. “I don’t want any chance they can trace my car to the mess back there.”
All it took was a solid kick from my size thirteens to crack the bar from its mooring. I toed it aside, then got back into the Hellcat.
“Admit it, flyboy,” Lil chuckled. “You didn’t want to ding your shiny new toy.”
“I hate this car,” I responded, pulling out of the parking structure.
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”