Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(34)

“On it,” I said, racing after her. But Robin Pope wasn’t unprepared for a vampire engagement. She reached a ceramic umbrella stand beside the door and pulled out a wooden stake as long as a baseball bat. Aspen through the heart was the only wood that could kill us, and I had a sinking feeling Robin Pope knew that quite well.

She thrust out the stake like a fencer trying to win a point. I dodged her first shot, but not the return slap, which slammed into my shin with enough force to bring tears to my eyes. I doubled over in pain, and Robin used my distraction to her advantage, flipping the deadbolt and opening the door. She ran into the hallway, the stake still in hand.

“Little help,” I said to Catcher.

“Vampire fail,” he muttered, running into the hallway after Robin. I limped after them, an electric tingle in Catcher’s wake as he gathered his magic in preparation for an assault.

By the time I made it into the hallway, Robin had reached the bank of elevators and moved behind the pedestal table, plucking up the vase of flowers.

“Robin—Ms. Pope,” Catcher called out, cautiously moving forward. “We just wanted to talk to you.”

But Catcher’s attempt at a détente didn’t dissuade him from continuing to power up. My hair lifted in the cloud of magic he brought to bear, spinning it together in the palm of his hand into an orb of glowing blue light.

“Get thee behind me, Satan!” she yelled out, throwing the vase at us. It hit the floor hallway between Pope and Catcher, shattering across the floor.

He didn’t wait for another attack but launched the magic at her.

Paranoid or not, Robin Pope wasn’t helpless, and she wasn’t about to go down swinging. She wrenched a round mirror from the wall near the table, then dropped to one knee, using the mirror like a shield.

Magic and mirrors didn’t mix, a fact I knew all too well. I’d actually used the trick on Mallory during her Unfortunate Crazy Times, although Catcher hadn’t been there to see the trick, and apparently didn’t know about it.

The ball of blue energy hit the glass . . . and bounced right back toward us.

“Crap,” Catcher said, yanking me to the ground just as the ball of magic flew over our heads. It grazed my ponytail, singeing the edges and sending the scent of burning hair into the air.

The fireball hit the fire door behind us, exploding with a sound like the firing of a jet engine, the force throwing open the door hard enough that it clanged against the back wall.

“Good Lord, man!” I said. “Are you trying to kill us?” I swatted at the sparks in my hair, wincing as the sparks bit into my fingertips.

“It would have only disabled her. The mirror must have distorted the magic.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, glancing up just in time to see Robin disappear through the fire door at the other end of the hallway. “She’s getting away.”

“Little busy here,” Catcher muttered behind me. When I looked back, he was stomping out sparks in the carpet behind us.

Robin Pope was gone, and we’d just torched a hallway in a very posh apartment building. I could only imagine the shit we were both going to get when our bosses found out how poorly this particular mission had gone.

“So much for Robin Pope not having any fighting skills,” I said.

Catcher stepped out a final bit of smoldering ash and glanced back at me. “I didn’t know she did. It didn’t turn up in her background search.”

“I think it’s safe to say she knows something.”

He nodded. “She’s involved in it. We don’t have the resources to tail her. I’ll talk to Chuck about getting Jacobs involved. I’ll also have Jeff run a deeper background, see if she has any other connections to the rioters, a Web site, whatever.”

I swirled a finger in the air, gesturing at the burn marks on the carpet and bubbled paint on the door. “I think we also let the condo association believe Ms. Pope was at fault here with all this. Pope’s a cowardly racist; I’m not letting her off the hook for that. She can pay for a little paint and carpet.”

“A lot of carpet, actually,” Catcher grimly said. “And technically, she was at fault. The damage only happened because she attacked you and bolted.”

A siren began to wail in the distance.

“And that’s our cue to exit,” I said.

“Agreed,” Catcher said, glancing back at the crispy door. “Fire exit?”

“It seems appropriate.” The pain in my shin was already beginning to subside, so I half limped, half ran to the fire door and followed Catcher down the stairs.

“Ha-ha,” he said.

“Vampires have a highly developed sense of humor. What building would you like to destroy next?”