A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10)(82)

The sound was muffled for a moment, and then a shuffling scrape turned into heavy breathing. Jennifer was crying in the background, and finally the sound of someone hitting the floor came, loud, followed by a soft grunt.
“I think that was Eloy,” I said, and Jenks nodded.
“Get him down!” Glenn shouted, and then a thump again.
For a moment, silence, and then I heard Glenn swear under his breath. “Don’t move.”
There was an oof of breath, then Glenn laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Go ahead, Eloy. I don’t care if you’re alive or dead at this point.” I held my breath, imagining it, and then Glenn whispered, “Good choice.”
A masculine voice called for Glenn, and I heard Eloy swear, his voice muffled. “I’ve got this,” Glenn said, his tone telling me it was over—if Jennifer sobbing quietly was any indication. “Put the fire out. Someone put the fire out! I need another zip strip over here. Now! Can we have some lights?”
In the near distance, I heard Chris snarl, “Shut up!” and Jennifer’s sobs subsided.
There was a scuffle as I think Glenn yanked Eloy up, and I heard the familiar ratcheting of a zip strip. “You sure it’s him?” someone asked. “He might be disguised.”
I fumbled to flick on the mic, whispering, “Check with the amulet, Glenn.”
“Holy crap, Rachel!” Glenn exclaimed. “You startled me. I forgot you were listening.”
I shifted my feet and grinned at Jenks. His dust was an excited silver. I was glad they’d gotten them. Score one for the FIB. Jennifer was pleading in the background, but no one was listening. It looked like it was all over, but I wasn’t moving. Not yet.
“Yep, it’s him,” a new, low voice drawled, and Jenks’s wings clattered. “Thank God we got them before they abducted anyone else.”
“Damn, Rache,” the pixy swore as he made the jump back to my knee. “They did it!”
“And they did it without us,” I said softly, feeling left out. I could hear the Miranda being recited, ignored. Jennifer was crying, Chris was swearing, and I think Gerald was knocked out. Eloy had yet to say anything, which wasn’t unusual, but I could imagine the scene well enough. He’d be standing with his arms cuffed behind his back and his shoulders hunched. His hair would be messed up, and he’d likely be sporting a new scrape from hitting the floor. He’d be silently thinking up a way to escape, his eyes darting about. I didn’t know Eloy, but I knew his type—my type. There was always a way out. 
Calls were going over the airways to bring the vans in. And still I sat. Waiting. My tension began to build. Eloy wasn’t talking. Eloy had a way out. I knew it.
“Get up, Eloy,” Glenn said suddenly, cutting through the radio noise. “Arms out. Assume the position.”
Okay, so he wasn’t standing yet, but I could see him in my mind’s eye: slowly getting up, assessing everything, looking for a hole as he got patted down for whatever they could find. He was going to run.
“Hey!” someone said. “Lookie what I found on him! What do you think it is?”
A second man laughed. “A can of deodorant?” he said, then shouted, “Don’t point it at me, jerk-off! It might be magic!”
I reached to toggle the mic to ask Glenn to describe it to me, then settled back when a deep, almost bland voice I didn’t recognize said, “Excuse me,” and presumably took it, muttering, “Damn fools. No wonder they can’t catch their asses in a windstorm.”
They, I thought, my eyes meeting Jenks’s. He had heard it, too. Just who was down there with Glenn if it wasn’t his usual men? But as long as Eloy didn’t have it, whatever it was could wait. It was probably a can of sticky silk to ward off Jenks.
Not yet ready to leave, I sank to the floor. There was a soft pop as someone clapped their hands, and Glenn shouted, “Okay. We got ’em. Area is secure. Everyone can come in. Nicely done, people.”
A soft cheering, both from the room and from the distant sites by way of the radio, filtered into the dark. And still I sat. Waiting.
“HAPA isn’t so happy now, huh?” Jenks said, his dust several shades brighter as he lit the tunnel with a healthy glow.
“Yes,” I said softly, thinking as I spun Trent’s ring on my pinkie.
Seeing me not moving, he landed on my knee, his dust feeling like snow as it sifted over me. “I know the way back,” he said, looking worried.
I tucked the glow stick in my bag so my eyes could readjust to the dark. “Not yet.”
Jenks’s wings stopped moving, laying flat on his back, and it grew dark. “I know what you mean. It’s kind of anticlimactic, listening to it happen. I’m surprised you stayed put, Rache. You knew you weren’t going to see any action. I’m proud of you.”
No action. Right . . .
Dr. Cordova’s voice slowly became audible, and in a confusing mix of about three separate conversations, I heard her come into the room with a bevy of aides, and my pulse quickened. “Congratulations, Detective Glenn, on a well-implemented run,” she said loudly, and the radio chatter almost doubled.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to let everyone know you’re pleased,” Glenn said, his annoyance that she was down here obvious even over the radio.
“Let’s move them out,” she said decisively. “Get them to the FIB lockup.”
My jaw clenched, and I looked at Jenks. That hadn’t been the plan. Catching them was one thing. Holding them was another. That’s where the vulnerability was, and it would take an I.S. cell to hold a magic-using human. “What the hell is she doing?” Jenks whispered, his wings lifting as he prepared to take flight.
That deep voice, faint from being whispered, came again. “Don’t let her move them, Detective. If she does, they’re gone. I promise you.”
“You tell me how I can overrule her, and I will,” Glenn said, his voice tight, and then louder, with a sliver of false respect, “I’d rather wait for the I.S. containment people, ma’am. It was arranged that they’d hold them, not us.”“Allow humans into I.S. custody?” Dr. Cordova snapped. “We have them. They’re strapped. They can’t do any magic.” The voices in the room died away, leaving only the background chatter of independent conversations revolving around traffic and where to park.
Again that deep voice began arguing with Glenn, even as Glenn tried to do everything he could to no avail. “Don’t do it . . .” I whispered, the sound of my feet scraping on the cement loud as I began walking in circles, trying to wake up my cold, stiff muscles.
“Ma’am,” Glenn started, but was immediately cut off.
“You, and you,” Dr. Cordova demanded. “Take them out.”
“Ma’am, I protest,” Glenn said. The unnamed man in the background swore, then began barking out orders and clearing the room.
Jenks was hovering beside me, his expression worried. “Glenn is more pissed than a foreclosed troll,” he said, and I nodded, balancing on one foot to pull a knee to my chest to stretch my cramped leg.
“Do you recognize that man with the deep voice?” I asked, and Jenks shook his head.
“Noted,” Dr. Cordova said sarcastically. “Excuse me, you’re in the way, Detective.”
Glenn make a low sound deep in his throat, and I winced at the sharp clatter and pop as he took his earpiece off and set it on some counter. Dr. Cordova’s voice rang out loudly, “I want them out of here in separate vans in five minutes. Move!”
Jenks had landed on the opening to the ventilation shaft, his silver dust lighting the corridor, when Ivy’s voice, smooth and silky, came faintly. “Hey, good tag, Glenn.” She hesitated, and then asked, “What’s the matter? You okay?” His answer was hardly more than a growl, and Ivy exclaimed, “She’s retaining custody? Is she fried?”
I carefully stretched the other leg as I turned the speaker up as far as it would go. “I thought you were going to put them in our custody,” Nina said.
“Apparently not,” Glenn muttered.
“Look out!” a voice cried, and there were several exclamations and the soft pop of gunfire. “Fire in the hole!” someone else shouted. “Loose gun!”
My pulse quickened, and I quietly wedged the lower grate aside, dropping my shoulder bag into the lower shaft and out of sight. Jenks’s tiny features creased. Wings going full tilt, he said, “Oh, this isn’t good.”
“Shhh.”
“Stop!” Glenn shouted. “Someone get him!”
“Son of a fairy!” Jenks said, rising up to light a six-foot circle. “They’re escaping! Right under their fairy-wiped noses!”
I took a deep breath. Faint, so faint I almost didn’t hear it, the man with the deep voice said. “Alpha unit, prep beaters. Beta, stand by to receive game. Keep it tight, people. Reassemble at bird nest.” 
Put me in the dark by myself, will they? I thought as I carefully swung myself over the side and stretched to find the bend, four feet down. A shiver went through me as I hung my feet over the edge of the hole and stretched until my toes brushed the curve of the pipe. If I hadn’t guessed right and he was actually headed for the back door, he was going to get away.