Wanted: Undead or Alive

Intent to Pursue

I pressed my fingertips against the earbud as if jamming it into my ear further would make it work better. "Nick, too. He's exposed. I need help. We need to get him out of here right now."

Moose was beside me so fast maybe he'd teleported. "Close your eyes, boss, right now."

Nick gagged and lurched like he was having a seizure, but he did as Moose said.

Moose yanked him to his feet and half hauled him out to the street where Nick fell to his knees and barfed up the most spectacularly disgusting mess I'd laid eyes on since... well... since two days ago when I saw the body of the siren. Truth is, in our line of work, spectacularly disgusting messes were an all-too-common occurrence. Still, when I saw bits of what could only be bone mixed in with the rest of the thick red stuff he brought up, my vision got a little dark and fuzzy around the edges.

I leaped out of the way just in time to avoid being splashed and crashed directly into Price, who steadied me, even while barking orders into a cell phone. "I want a perimeter at three miles. They can't have gone far. And eyes in the sky. Send the harpies."

That's a thing he can order? Neat. I held on to Price's coat with my left hand and wiped the cold sweat from the bridge of my nose with my right while I surveyed the crowd. A little group hovered around the prone form of the bouncer. Everyone rubbernecked. One of the drag queens stood off to the side, smoking a joint and watching with mild curiosity.

Marked cars with flashing lights screeched toward us from every direction. Would this show up on Chantelle's radar? How would they explain it?

Nick spit, took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. He planted one foot on the ground and heaved himself into an upright position. The shackles crumbled and the bits of glass, or whatever they were made of, rained down onto the pavement. He stood with his eyes closed and took several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, they crackled like fourth of July sparklers, but the glow in his skin had subsided. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.

Price jammed his phone into his pocket. "What the devil happened in there, Adamos?"

"It was a spell," Nick said. "A powerful one. Meant to kill djinn if I'm not mistaken."

We all looked at the bouncer who'd grown unsettlingly still on the pavement.

"He's a djinn?" Djinn were enormous, unusually colored, and often covered in magical tattoos.

"Yes," Nick said. "We have ways to blend with humans. Djinn manipulate reality to conceal our true appearance. If he dies, it'll reverse and he'll be exposed to everyone here."

I scrambled to count. Fifty people or more would need to have their memories wiped if that happened. I'd seen more difficult containment, but not often.

An ambulance with The Organization's logo stenciled on the doors came roaring around the corner. Two women leaped out of the front and two men from the back. They shouted for the crowd to make space and as they did, a thought landed square in the center of my mind.

I looked up at Nick, "Wait, you're a djinn?"

"In part."

The medics raced to get the bouncer in the ambulance and as they lifted him, I saw the back of his shirt split along the seam as he grew larger. The spell was failing. They wasted no time slamming the doors shut, cutting the scene off from the crowd. Price's black-suited drones started moving among the crowd, asking questions and restoring order. One of them approached the person with the joint and they made no move to put it out but offered it to the officer, who declined by lifting his hand, palm out. Three young girls sniffled and wept as they spoke in machine gun rapid fire to an agent.