I cautiously went in, scanning what seemed to be a remote nurses’ station. “Ah . . . I think there’s been a mistake,” I said as I saw the rows of bottles. They held auras. Not souls, but auras. I didn’t even know you could do that.

  “Your first time down here?” she said casually, and I stayed where I was, eyeing the comfortable chair with its ankle and wrist straps. As I watched, she lit a candle and spilled wax in an enviable smooth pentagram atop a small scrying mirror.

  “Yes. Are those auras?”

  Her head came up from her spell prep, and she nodded. “Pretty, aren’t they. Go ahead and have a seat. It takes about five minutes. But we’d like you to stay for an additional fifteen to make sure your body reacts positively. Most people experience a slight dizziness is all. Is there someone who you’d like to credit your donation to?”

  My lips parted. “Donation? You mean my aura?” I said as she took an empty bottle from a cabinet. “I’m not here to donate my aura. I didn’t even know you could do that. I’m here to talk to Parker. That nutjob of a Were yelling at the end of the hall.”

  The woman—I wasn’t going to call her a nurse anymore—seemed to hesitate. “You’re with the I.S.?” she said, making me wonder if what she was doing was even legal.

  “Not exactly,” I said as Stef slid to a halt in the hall, her cheeks red in embarrassment.

  “There you are,” she said as she grabbed my arm and pulled me into the corridor. “I am so sorry, Dr. Ophees. She’s not down here to donate. Rachel, here’s your ID.”

  I took the more substantial card and looped the lanyard over my neck. Dr. Ophees put the bottle away, then used a huge knife to scrape the wax from the mirror. She looked peeved.

  “Jeez, Rachel. I turned my back for five minutes,” Stef said as we walked off.

  I glanced over my shoulder at a sudden crash. A little upset, are we? “Is that legal?”

  Stef’s hold on me vanished. “Yes. Technically. Because it’s voluntary. I’m so sorry. Ophees is kind of a jerk. More of a vampire than some vampires. But she’s good at what she does. She was part of the group who pioneered the process to distill auras from blood. The blood goes upstairs for general use, the auras stay here for the undead, seeing as that’s what they are really taking in when they drain a person. Ophees’s spell is just about ready to go into clinical trials. If it clears the Federal Charm and Spell Association, we will have an amazing new tool to avoid unwanted early transitions to an undead existence, but we’re looking at years right now.”

  In a hospital setting? Does Vivian know about this? “The only way I know how to take someone’s aura is with illicit magic.”

  Stef winced. “Which is why it’s experimental? She makes the spell, stores the auras, administers them. If not for her, Cincinnati would probably lose its A1 status of preventing accidental, unwanted transitions. She’s saved countless lives.”

  Unwanted transitions, I thought sourly, peeking into an empty room being cleaned as we went past. That was polite speak for when a master vampire decided the law didn’t pertain to him or her and drained someone. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I could have saved Kisten if I had gotten him here fast enough.

  “Get your bloody hell paws off me!” Parker shouted, and Stef stopped at a door. The color-coded placard to indicate the level of danger inside the room was green, but considering what they typically dealt with, green was probably appropriate.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Stef said as she knocked and pushed open the door.

  “Sure.” I jerked to a halt, surprised when I nearly ran into a huge barrel of a man just inside the room. He glanced at my ID and lost interest. Stef barely got a sniff.

  “You have no cause. I’m the victim!” Parker shouted, and I closed the door behind me as I took in the dim lighting, soothing colors, and the enormous soft chair they’d put her in. The straps were heavily padded to not leave any marks, but the Were was trying her damnedest to get free, her hair in her face and her hospital gown spotted with spittle.

  “Hey, Doyle,” I said, and the man’s attention rose to me. “Thanks for bringing her in.”

  “Shut up! I want to talk to Morgan!” Doyle shouted at Parker, and the woman glowered, her bruised and road-rashed face ugly as she went silent.

  Doyle smirked, his black eyes finding a rim of brown as he approached me. “It’s easier subduing the badasses after they fall three stories onto a bus.” His attention went to Stef, then me. “I’m surprised you’re down here. Aren’t you wanted for something?”

  Nodding ruefully, I inched closer, hissing in sympathy as I looked Parker over. Her right arm was in a breakaway cast, and the tight wrapping peeping past her robe said her ribs had taken damage. The road rash went from her jawbone to her shoulder and beyond. In short, she was a mess. But she was not only alive but fighting, and that said a lot.

  “I need to ask her a couple of things,” I said, and Doyle’s brow furrowed.

  “So about that stunt of yours yesterday in the coma ward . . .”

  I focused on Parker, pulse quickening. “Here I am. Ask me.”

  Doyle’s arms went over his chest to make his biceps bulge. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  I chuckled, thankful he wasn’t trying to drag me into the I.S. I still had my late lunch appointment with Vivian. “I appreciate your discretion. Do you mind . . .”

  I gestured at Parker, and the woman jerked against her bonds. “You are dead, Morgan!” she raged, and I sighed. “Dead! They can’t hold me for assault, and when I get out of here, I’m going to shred you. Then I’m going to shred everyone you care about, starting with that elf!”

  A twinge of worry rose, and I quashed it. “She can’t shift, can she?” I asked, eyeing the breakaway cast. It was popular with the shape-shifting set in case of emergency.

  Stef reached for Parker’s chart. “Not at the moment. They pumped her full of hexabane.”

  “That bitch killed Walter!” Parker shouted. “Why are you detaining me? Arrest her!”

  “I said, shut up!” Doyle bellowed, and Parker flung herself back into the cushions. “We’re moving her out as soon as a van gets here,” he added, softer. “Her finer muscle and bone tissues were still in flux from her last shift when she jumped, which evened out a lot of the damage. She’s got a couple of bruised ribs, broken wrist, cracked collarbone.” He sucked on his teeth, a faint hint of vamp pheromones rising. “Nothing that needs a hospital.”

  Parker sneered. “Your line ends with you, Morgan. You will have never existed.”

  “Probably,” I said, having given up on the idea of children when I’d found out I was a demon. “But not at your teeth, and not today.”

  Frustrated, Parker spit at me. It fell short, and I took a breath to say something, changing my mind at the familiar sound of pixy wings.

  “Hey, Rache,” Jenks said as he came in, garnering suspicious looks from I.S. and hospital staff alike. “Lee’s stuck in a hallway until they finish their tests. They aren’t giving him a room. I’ll take you to Trent when you’re ready.” Hands on his hips, he hovered before Parker, the angry woman watching him around her stringy hair. “You going to beat some information out of this scrotum sack of a Were first?”

  “Try it,” Parker taunted, and I turned to Doyle.

  “Can I talk to her?” I asked. “She knows who has been spelling for Walter.” But whether she would tell me hinged not only on her attitude but on whether she was under a no-divulge spell.

  “Be my guest.” Doyle gestured at Parker, the woman thrashing as Jenks dusted her. “But can I give you some advice? David Hue has this piece of work in a doggie bag already. You need to be more worried about the coven of moral and ethical standards.”

  Jenks’s wing hum went silent. I glanced up, surprised at the concern in Doyle’s eyes. “Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I’ve got a meeting with Vivian today, so if you could put off arresting me until after two, I’d appreciate it.” Crap on toast, Trent won’t be able to make it. . . .

  Doyle laughed at that, startling Parker into silence. But yeah, I’d stop raving to hear his low voice rumbling about, too. “Well, Parker?” I said, careful to not step in the wad of phlegm she’d spit out as I came closer. “You want to make your I.S. stay easier? Get into a communal room with a TV instead of a standard six by ten? Tell me who you’ve been getting your illicit magic from. I might be able to convince Doyle that you’re the victim. The worst of the charges will fall to the practitioner, but I have to know who it is for you to even have a chance.”

  “Seriously?” Parker laughed, the sound choking off as her ribs hurt, and I looked at Stef.

  “Is that the hexabane?” I asked, and Stef shook her head. Why do they always have to be dicks about it? I wondered as Parker chortled as if I was wearing a pink tutu on the bus. She might have the same no-divulge spell on her, but I was willing to take that risk.

  “Doyle, you want some coffee?” Jenks suggested, and Parker’s expression emptied.

  “Don’t hurt me! Let go!” she suddenly shrilled, though I hadn’t even touched her. Shocked, I backed up as the door opened and a tight-lipped nurse came in, his no-nonsense posture reminding me of my days in the children’s ward. “They’re hurting me!” Parker screamed, dissolving into sobs.

  “Oh, that’s as lame as a troll condom!” Jenks exclaimed, and Stef hid a smirk.

  Damn, she’s got to be hopped up on something, I thought, my hands high to prove I’d done nothing. But clearly Parker knew how to work the system as the nurse pushed me to the edge of the room, his eyes pupil black in threat.

  “She’s killing me,” Parker sobbed as two more nurses came in, drawn by the woman’s distress where they had ignored her angry threats before. “Please don’t let her kill me!”

  It must have been a trigger phrase, because they all fell into full mama-bear mode, two nurses making a living wall between us as a third soothed Parker, bathing her face with damp cloth. Oh, for sweet troll turds on a stick, I mused when Parker winked at me.

  “Honey, I haven’t even started killing you,” I said, and the nurses between us bristled.

  “We don’t do that here,” one said, and Doyle rubbed his temple.

  “Accidents happen,” I offered, but they had no humor, and one pointed at the door.

  “She’s right,” Doyle said as he took my elbow. “They don’t hurt people here.”

  Jenks snickered at where he’d put the emphasis. Parker, too, heard it, and her confidence faltered. A garbled conversation on a handheld told me her van had arrived. “Hey, can Jenks and I bum a ride to the I.S.?” I asked, and Doyle’s grin widened. “I can’t stay because I’m meeting Vivian, but I can do a lot on the way in.” The thought to stand Vivian up was fleeting. I wouldn’t give the coven the fuel to burn me at the stake.

  “What an intriguing idea.” Doyle’s chin lifted to acknowledge the I.S. crew coming in, bulky in their anti-charm gear. “I’d appreciate the chance to ask her a few questions in a more informal setting as well.” He hesitated. “I’ll drive you to your appointment with Ms. Smith myself.”

  “Don’t let them take me!” Parker shouted as new cuffs were attached and the gentle, padded bindings were taken off. “They’ll kill me! Please. No!”

  “Dumbass,” Jenks said, once again safely on my shoulder as a doctor came in.

  The woman was a living vampire, and she stood toe-to-toe with Doyle, her lips in a hard line. “I am not releasing her if you are going to hurt her.”

  “Asylum!” Parker shouted as if it was a real thing. It wasn’t. “I claim asylum!”

  “Doctor, the last thing you want is Parker in your care,” Doyle said as his men began to strap her into a wheelchair. “She is the probable cause of the misery upstairs, but as she is only a suspect, she will be treated with the utmost care. That’s why we brought her here—to make sure she was okay. Is she fit for travel?”

  Jenks’s wings tickled my neck as the doctor on call turned to Parker. The woman had finally shut up, her eyes holding hope.

  But the doctor was used to dealing with the undead, who lie, and cheat, and manipulate more than they need blood, and finally she reached for the tablet to sign Parker over. “She’s yours,” she said, and Parker began shouting again.

  “You think you could sedate her a little?” Doyle asked, and after a dismissive glance, the doctor nodded, pissing Parker off even more. “Not heavy. I need her to be able to talk.”

  Satisfied, I leaned against a wall as one of the nurses went to a drawer and filled a syringe. Stef came forward, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she said as too many people fought to get Parker locked into a wheelchair. “You had me scared. I half believed you’d really hurt her.”

  “Right,” I said, and Jenks made an odd snort from my shoulder, making me wonder if he had begun to rub off on me. Three years ago, I’d never think of hurting someone for information, but now? I’d found out it was far easier to live with the knowledge that I’d hurt someone than to live with the pain of someone dying because I hadn’t.

  Doyle took control of Parker and pushed her out into the hall. Her swearing began to go faint, and as the room emptied, I lingered, wanting to call Vivian.

  “I should get back to work,” Stef said as I found my phone at the bottom of my shoulder bag. “See you both at home?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, and she gave me a little grin before pacing to the front desk, her arms swinging confidently.

  Parker was already in the elevator, not the one that went up to the mundane emergency floor, but the other at the far end of the hall that serviced the undead’s emergency drop-off. It would be empty this time of the day, and they could whisk Parker to the I.S. before the news van even knew she was moving. The infuriated woman was still shouting through the sedative, and Doyle stuck a hand out and stopped the doors from closing. “Coming?”

  I waved for him to go ahead. “Have to make a call,” I said, and he let the doors shut.

  “Trent?” Jenks guessed, and I shook my head.

  “Vivian,” I answered, and the pixy’s wings went still. Vivian, though, wasn’t answering, and I sighed when her voice told me to leave a message.

  “Hi, Vivian.” I decided to take the stairs. Less chance of dropping her call. Probably. “Ah, I had an issue at the festival,” I said as I yanked the door open and started up. “I might be a few minutes late. Um, I’m really sorry about this,” I added, my voice echoing. As busy as I was, she had a tighter schedule than me. “Go ahead and order the BLT for me. Trent won’t be joining us, but I’ll have Jenks. I’ll call if we’re going to be any later than a few minutes.”

  “Yeah, she won’t mind waiting,” Jenks said, and I felt myself warm.

  “Not a word,” I said as I closed my phone out and pushed the fire door open. But my quick pace faltered when two big orderlies ran past, almost knocking me into the wall.

  “Close that bay door!” Doyle shouted from the undead’s emergency drop-off, and I bolted forward. “Get down! Get down!”

  Son of a pup, I thought, remembering the number of Weres lurking in the emergency waiting room. “Move!” I shouted, pulling heavily on the ley line as I shoved through the fleeing people. Alarms were going off, and I tripped, barely catching myself before hitting the floor. Jenks took to the air, and, flustered, I staggered forward.

  A group of ragtag Weres was rolling Parker across the huge underground garage to the steep exit ramp. The rain had finally quit, and the sun pouring in through the opening was almost blinding as the wet pavement scattered the light. I squinted, trying to see. Doyle was picking himself up off the pavement, but three other I.S. agents were down and not moving.

  “They got a van outside!” Jenks shrilled, and I ran forward. “She’s getting away!”

  “Not this time,” I whispered, and, pulling hard on the lines, I imagined an enormous protection circle, one that would encase the fleeing Weres. “Rhombus!” I exclaimed, setting the rim of it just in front of Parker.

  The Weres ran right into it, yelping in fear. Parker’s chair tipped, spilling the shrieking Were onto the pavement. One of her ankles was still strapped to the chair, and she fought to be free of it.

  “Hey! You!” I shouted as I let the circle drop, and both Doyle and Parker turned, one in hope, the other, hate.

  “Stay out of it, Morgan!” Doyle yelled, gesturing for me to retreat, but I stomped forward, intent on bringing the grinning woman in. She was absolutely crazy, shoving at the people trying to uncuff her, nothing but the thin fabric of a hospital gown between her and the filthy pavement.

  But my expression emptied and I slid to a halt when the woman raised her arm, aiming her shaking fist at me. “She’s got a ring!” Jenks shrilled.

  “In articulo mortis!” Parker shouted, and I dove to the side as a green bolt shot from the ring on her Jupiter finger. For one glorious moment I thought she had missed, but as I hit the ground, a sharp pain cramped my foot.

  “No!” I exclaimed, butt on the cold concrete as I panicked, staring at the green haze enveloping my foot. But I hadn’t fallen unconscious, and I sat there, not believing it as the spell spent itself and the captive mystics found release.

  “In articulo mortis!” Parker shouted again, and I jerked, my skin tingling as another bolt of green shot from her to thump into an advancing I.S. agent. He went down, not even shaking.

  I looked at my tingling foot, pulse hammering. Clearly the second ring worked, so why hadn’t it worked on me?

  It’s because I’m holding its twin, I thought as my side cramped with cold and I took out the old ring, my hand shaking. Oh, you’re in trouble now. Rhombus, I added as I put the ring on and stood, filled with a new purpose.

  And then I freaked as my circle didn’t form. I slid to a frightened halt, scrambling for cover as Parker laughed and took out two more I.S. agents. I felt betrayed—the ley line was gone—and then I realized what had happened. It wasn’t the ring or Parker’s spell. My first, multiple-story circle had tripped the hospital’s security system.