“What is this place?” Sike asked, wandering around.
I took Meaty’s keys out of my pocket. “You’ll see.” I skirted the edges of the room, looking for a locked fridge that my keys would open—and found it.
Small, squat—it could have been a medication fridge on any floor. But my key fit in its lock, and inside it was stacked high with small vials and bags of blood. Each one of them was stamped with the same stamp—Y4.
“This is your last chance to fix all this!” I shouted up at the ceiling and down to the crevices on the floor. If this had all been some shitty Shadow-test …
But nothing responded to me. “Okay then.” I started throwing the fridge’s contents into the sink, fistfuls of plastic at a time.
“Edie, no.” Sike caught the first bag I’d thrown before it hit the sink’s metal bowl. “I can’t condone this.”
“All those weres outside? They’ve all been drinking werewolf paw-print water for weeks. House Grey’s controlling them. They’re after this.” I shook one of the blood bags in Sike’s face.
There was the squeal of metal scraping cement outside, and then something—someone—hit the window with a thump. Then another thump. If it were a bigger window, if the outside of the building weren’t concrete—“They want the blood, Sike. We have to get rid of it. This is our only chance.”
She looked at the blood bag she’d caught. “How do you know House Grey’s behind this?”
“I killed one of them down the hall.”
Sike snorted. “That wasn’t smart of him then, was it?” She curled in her fingers until her nails pierced the blood bag like an overripe fruit, then wrung it out over the sink, making sluggish blood ooze out.
Up until that moment, there’d been a chance she’d have stopped me. Relief ran through my body in a wave, then another were banging on the window outside made me jump. I focused and tossed another blood bag to her. “I don’t think we have much time.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
The sink didn’t have a garbage disposal. But all sinks at hospitals had one thing in common underneath—industrial-strength cleaners and bleach.
The weres outside were pinging off the window like grasshoppers in July. I emptied out the entire fridge and tossed the small desks in the room till I found a pair of scissors. Then I pulled on gloves and started cutting the bottom ends of bags, while Sike popped off the plastic caps and poured the contents out. I turned the sink on as hot as it would go to denature proteins and started splashing in floor cleaner.
“Damn House Grey. This is a horrible waste.” She watched the blood swirl down the sink like Minnie watching the drain of my shower.
“Can’t be helped,” I said, handing her another bag. “This is the last one.” She flipped it over to look at it.
“It would be were-blood.” With a sigh, she ripped it open and squeezed the contents out.
I pulled off my gloves and threw them away. She washed her hands with the cleaner. The windows were vibrating percussively with each blow. I tried not to look at them there, slavering, smearing spit and blood on the barred windows.
“We can’t stay here,” Sike said. “Did you have another plan?”
“There’s an emergency exit through the accounting department, down to the loading docks.”
Sike inhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”
Gideon opened the back door for us, and we started running—or hobbling in my case—down the back halls.
I heard a skittering of claws on a tile floor. Sike heard it first. She flung her arm out, catching me in my side.
A wolf turned the corner and ran down the hall at us. Helen’s wolf, gray and blond, slowed.
“Helen—Viktor somehow—” But it wasn’t Viktor, never had been, all along. Viktor had tried to warn me. And I was wearing Jorgen’s blood—Jorgen, who had hit Winter with his truck. House Grey had gotten the werewolf paw-print water from somewhere. From … someone.
I stepped forward. “Helen—it’s not too late. You can stop this. Call those other weres off.”
Helen twisted her head to one side, as if to pity me, then started trotting forward again. Sike pulled me back again.
“Is there another way for you to go?” Sike asked me without taking her eyes off Helen.
“Sike, she’ll kill you.” Sike was only a daytimer, and Helen was a major wolf on a full-moon night.
“You’re just a human, Edie. I’ve got a chance. Take the gimp and go.”
“Sike—” I warned.
“Go!” Sike shoved me toward Gideon, sending me to my knees. Gideon caught me and picked me up as Sike blocked Helen’s path. “You know you want a fight, fucking were,” she taunted. Helen snarled. I got to my feet and looked back at her, one last time, red hair streaming down her back like arterial blood.