vision and stood my hair on end. I shrieked and fell.
I hit carpet and rolled onto my knees, dizzy and sick to my stomach. I was in the living room, barely three feet from the bedroom door. The jaguar sailed at me, a black blur. I ducked too late, and razor claws sliced my back, all agony and heat. I thrust my flimsy nail file and sank it deep into the jaguar’s left haunch. It roared and limped away.
Belle slammed into me sideways, her sheer bulk squashing me into the floor. Hot, moist breath panted on my face. Saliva dripped from her finger-sized teeth as her lips drew back. A strange grunt-purr started in her chest. Was she laughing at me?
This was bad.
I hadn’t expected the blocking spell. She knew Phin and I had gone into the bathroom and not come out. She’d guessed I had a power of some sort and came prepared. “Clever,” I said. My lungs ached, unable to take a proper breath.
“Clever for a cat, you mean?” a strange male voice asked.
I turned my head a few inches. A naked man stood next to the sofa, nail file in one hand, blood flowing down his leg. He was thin, nondescript, with dark hair covering his chest and legs. “Chilly in here?” I gasped, pretending to eye his shadowed crotch.
Jaguar Man growled. “You stabbed me with a nail file.”
Clever retorts died in my throbbing chest. Darkness blurred the edges of my vision. I didn’t know which would be worse—suffocating under a tiger or being eaten by one. I tried once more to teleport, but the blue electricity tore down my spine and numbed my senses. Stole the last of my breath away.
Two gunshots popped nearby. Belle snarled, and her weight was suddenly gone. I rolled to my left side, sucking air greedily, filling my starved lungs. A pair of wide, dead eyes stared back at me from a few feet away. Jaguar Man lay on his stomach, blood soaking the carpet beneath him.
A third gunshot, and then Belle yowled. A fourth wild shot shattered the television screen. A man hollered.
I raised my head and looked toward the apartment door. Belle was on the ground, stark naked, curled in on herself. Wounded. Past her, just inside the open door, was Leo Forrester. He had a small pistol clutched tight in both hands, still aimed at Belle. Pale as paste and sweating intensely, he gaped at her, eyes wide and mouth open. Breathing so loudly I thought he’d hyperventilate and pass out.
My wounded back shrieked at me as I sat up, dizzy. A little confused. I blinked at Leo. He didn’t seem to see me.
“She … she …,” Leo was muttering, trying to make some sense out of what he’d just seen. His expression was not unlike Alex’s the first time I told him about the existence of Dregs. In Leo, I saw Alex’s innocence. All too briefly.
“Leo, close the door,” I said.
He snapped his mouth shut and did as ordered, never taking his eyes or his gun off Belle. I crawled to my feet, weak-limbed and wobbly. I had a dead were-cat in my living room and a wounded one in the foyer. After all that screaming and three gunshots, the neighbors had to be awake and calling the cops. Again. The Triads had been able to explain away the day Wormer and Tully broke in. There was no one to explain this.
When I leave the apartment tonight, I’d never be coming back.
“Chalice?” Leo asked. He sounded like a child, unsure and tentative about asking what was happening.
“Watch her. I need a minute,” I said.
“You’re bleeding.”
Ignoring him, I bolted into my bedroom, running on pure adrenaline. And instinct. I snatched a carry-on bag from the closet and stuffed clothing into it, paying little attention except to grab shirts, two pairs of jeans, and changes of underwear. Her laptop was still on her desk, untouched. I crammed it in with the clothes. It might be useful later, depending on what I got from the gremlins.
I gazed around the white and pink room. Foreign to me only four days ago, now it felt like my home. Another home being left behind. But there was no time for that. I could miss it later.
Leo and Belle hadn’t moved. She was alternately breathing and shivering, and I took pity on her. I snagged one of Aurora’s nested blankets and draped it across Belle. She glared at me over the blue cotton, baring her front teeth.
“Where did they take Joseph and Aurora?” I asked.
“A safer place than this, human,” Belle hissed.
Trying to break her was useless, and we didn’t have time. I’d have to track them another way. I retrieved my bag from the sofa, paused, then dashed over to the kitchen counter. I grabbed the framed photo of Chalice and Alex and tucked it in with everything else. One final memento.
Leo gave me a puzzled sideways look as I approached. He was still pasty, sweat darkening the collar and armpits of his shirt, but he was breathing normally.
“Kill me if you’re going to,” Belle said.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I replied over my shoulder, not giving her the respect of looking her in the eye. “If anything happens to Aurora or Joseph, then I make no guarantees the next time we meet.”
“Likewise.”
“I’m not your enemy, Belle.”
No reply.
“You can put that away,” I said to Leo. He tucked the gun into his jacket. “We’re going to take the service stairs down. Do you have a car?”
He nodded.
“Good, then you’re driving.”
I ushered him into the hallway and pulled the door shut. No last looks over my shoulder. No time for emotional good-byes as I closed a chapter, not only in Chalice’s life but also in my own. There was no going back this time.
There was only forward.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday, 12:44 A.M.
Leo’s station wagon was across the street, half a block down—a sore thumb among dozens of shiny, late- model cars and trucks. In the dark, it could have been tan or yellow, with dark brown paneling on the sides and rust spots near the rear wheels. The cargo area was stuffed with suitcases, cardboard boxes, paper shopping bags, and a plastic laundry basket. Similar items packed the backseat.
I didn’t do more than observe the oddity of it. My back burned, and the blood loss was making me dizzy. The jaguar must have cut me deeper than I thought.
Leo fumbled his keys with trembling hands and unlocked the passenger-side door. “You’re bleeding,” he said again.
“Yeah, sorry,” I replied.
He shrugged out of his jacket, took the carry-on away from me, and draped the coat over my shoulders. I hissed when he brushed one of the open wounds.
“You need a hospital.”
“It’s fine. We just need to get the hell out of here.”
Sirens punctuated my statement, too close for comfort. Leo tossed my bag into the backseat while I slid inside. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, head on the dash. Nauseated beyond belief. I closed my eyes. The driver’s door opened and shut, then the engine roared to life.
“Where—?” he started.
“Your motel.” I could patch up, clean up, and lie down for a minute. Catch my breath.
We moved away from the sounds of sirens. Leo impressed me with his silence. I had no energy for fielding a
