Finally the deathgrip of pain in Warren’s side released its hold, and he sucked in a breath just as black comets whirled in his vision. He cried out, but even that hurt.
“Where are we?” Naomi asked.
“You’re taking us from one trap to another,” Lilith complained.
“Always,” Warren wheezed, “always…have a way…out.” He crossed the room and gestured at a stack of crates. Swept by an invisible wind, the crates tumbled out of the way to reveal a blank section of wall.
“There’s no door,” Naomi said.
Warren drew another breath. “No door,” he agreed. “Escape routes…should be…marked.” He pressed against the wall. “There’s an…an old tunnel…next to…this basement. Probably…used it…for smuggling. Or supplies. Found it…on blueprints. I chiseled…through the wall…reset the blocks…with weak mortar.”
He blasted through the blocks. They cascaded before him, shattering and spilling across the rough-hewn floor of the tunnel just beyond.
The passageway reeked of age and mold. Lampblack stained the ceiling, visible to Warren’s night vision. Scuff marks scarred the stone floor.
“Which way?” Lilith asked as she floated out into the passageway.
“Left.” Warren stepped through after her. He breathed easier now, but pain still gripped him.
“Where does it go?”
“Away from here.” Warren paused to flick the arming trigger of a remote detonator he’d placed on the wall when he’d broken into the tunnel.
“What’s that?” Naomi demanded.
“Plastic explosive.” That was easy enough to find these days with armories left undefended. There were even manuals that told him how to use it.
“You’re insane.”
“We can’t…outrun them.”
“Can we outrun the blast?”
“Have to…find out.” Warren leaned into his stride, and found he couldn’t quite manage to get up to a run. Naomi grabbed his free arm and yanked him to greater speed.
A few of the faster Gremlins reached the opening before the plastic explosive went off. The explosion filled the tunnel with light and noise. The concussive wave knocked Warren flat. He hovered on the edge of consciousness, barely aware that a large section of the tunnel—more than he would have guessed—had collapsed.
Then he spiraled into darkness.
THIRTY-FOUR
What are you still doing here, Creasey? Everybody figured you’d be out there hiding with your Templar buddies instead of risking your life with the rest of us.”
Be cool, Leah told herself. Ignore them.
It was hard, though. Since she’d returned to the Agency complex, the obvious lack of acceptance by her peers was sandpaper to an unprotected nerve. There had already been some of that before she’d gone to take Lyra Darius’s message to Simon. The hostility had escalated.
She lifted a boot to the bench in the coed locker room and started on the buckles. Her boot, like the rest of her armor, was covered in blood. Most of the blood had belonged to demons, but some of it had belonged to human wounded and to two men who had died in her arms tonight.
“Are you listening to me, Creasey?” Dockery roared.
Let it go, Leah thought. She almost had the boot off. Blood turned her gloves slippery and made the task more difficult.
A heavy hand dropped onto her shoulder and yanked her around. Dockery stood a head taller than she was, a massive man with a barrel chest. He was in his early thirties. He had his helmet mask off. Close-shaven black hair covered his head and five o’clock shadow stubbled his jaw. His features looked broad and mulish.
Leah swung her forearm up and batted his hand away. She kept both of her fists on either side of her face in the ready position.
“I heard you, Dockery,” Leah said. “Back off. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Maybe I want to talk to you, love,” Dockery snarled.
“I’ll bring charges against you.”
Dockery laughed. “I go out there every day and wage war against demons, love. Do you really think having charges brought against me worries me?”
Leah felt foolish. Before the invasion, charges within the Agency were serious matters.
“I was in the Royal Marines before all this went down,” Dockery said. “I knew about hard times even then while you were still learning spy tricks. We fought people face-to-face in those days. None of this hiding-in-the-shadows crap you people are taught.”
A crowd had gathered in the locker room. No one seemed interested in stepping in to break up the potential fight.
“You’ve had a hard night,” Leah said evenly. “We all have.”
“Not all of us have had a mate die in his arms tonight,” Dockery said. “Wendell Tate was a good man. A Royal Marine. Easily worth four or five times as much as the likes of you.”
That drew some remonstrations from the crowd. Even though the spy organizations and military departments had come together under the same covert umbrella as a result of the Hellgate invasion, that joining of forces wasn’t seamless.
“A lot of people died tonight,” Leah said. “A lot of good people.”
“I know. And you insist on running off to hook up with those cowardly Templar.”
He’s just baiting you. Leah took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I want you to leave me alone,” Leah stated.
“Too bad. I think it’s time you figured out where your loyalties lie.” Dockery shoved a big hand forward and slammed her shoulder.
Leah caught his wrist with her left hand, grabbed his elbow with her right, and tried to force him into an arm-bar hold. Dockery kicked a foot out and tripped her as he rotated his upper body. Off balance, Leah had no choice but to release her hold and step back quickly. She lifted her hands again and barely got them up before Dockery came at her.
“You shouldn’t have done that, love,” he rasped. A malicious grin pulled at his mouth. “Now see, you’re going to regret that.”
Leah avoided a jab and let it sail by her ear. Intentionally, she backed toward a stand of lockers. The observers gave ground reluctantly behind her, not wanting to lose their front-row positions, then
