Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Storage? I wondered, nose wrinkling at the scent of river and wolfsbane. Heavy chains dangled from the ceiling to lift dusty machinery set out in a uniform precision. Storage, yes—not for parts but for machinery, forgotten when the need for tank assemblies and bomber engines shifted to cars and refrigerators. It had been abandoned when the machinery of war moved on and made them obsolete. I had no idea this was here. . . .

            “There,” Ivy whispered.

            I stifled a shiver as her words iced over my skin, following her pointing finger to an open space. Four people stood in a loose cluster under a faint light, two in a heated argument. A fifth stood at the outskirts, the woman flipping and catching a knife in utter boredom.

            “Is that Walter?” I mused, then started, staring at Glenn. “You brought binoculars?”

            “Trying to keep up,” he whispered as he handed the tiny pair over. “Behind the woman flipping the knife. West of the group.”

            West? Which way is west? I thought as I lifted the binoculars. My pulse jumped. Walter. His stocky, military build and white buzz cut were unmistakable. Face red, he stood eye to eye with that blond magic user, his shouted words almost audible. The knife-flipping woman was Parker, and she snickered when the magic user shoved Walter back with a pop of unfocused spell. The genetic tinkering to keep the elven species alive had left them all looking basically the same, and the disguised man fronting Walter could be Trent’s brother. I wonder if Walter even knows his magic user is under a doppelganger charm.

            “Cassie is down there,” Ivy said, voice cold.

            “Oh no,” I whispered, binoculars shifting. “How did they . . .” And then my words faltered, my anger a heady flash. She was unfettered, clearly there of her own volition as she pushed out of the shadows and headed for Walter.

            “Where are you going?” Ivy practically hissed, and I lowered the binoculars. She was talking to Glenn, the vulnerable human now making his furtive way to the far end of the room, where a stairway snaked down. Pausing, he motioned us to stay, then continued on.

            “Can you hear them?” I asked as I turned to the floor. Son of a bastard, no wonder Cassie isn’t answering her phone. She was with Walter. She’d told me to wait for her, then come here herself. Alone. Please, God, may she be here alone. . . .

            “She had no intention of waiting for your call,” Ivy muttered. “I don’t see the rest of the pack. Either she was smart enough to leave them home, or they’re locked up.”

            Because if they were dead, Cassie and I were going to have some major trouble. “I can’t believe she went around me like this,” I said as I focused the binoculars to the shadowed railing to find Glenn, Pike, or the sparkle of pixy dust.

            “David,” Ivy whispered, and I jumped as she touched my shoulder, pointing.

            “Where?” Breath held, I followed her line of sight, my pulse hammering as I spotted him beaten and bruised, caked blood cracking to ooze in ugly rivulets. He lay in the shadows at Parker’s feet in an awkward slump, his torn skin showing where they had ripped his hospital gown. “He’s awake!” I added when he moved, eyes bright as they fixed on Cassie with a fevered intensity. “They have the countercurse,” I breathed, and my gaze shifted to the blond guy still in his spelling robes.

            Until David tried to rise and Parker shoved him down with her foot.

            “You little . . .” I started, halting when Ivy grabbed my arm. Cassie exploded into motion, yanked to a stop by two clearly nervous alphas. Parker’s laughter echoed against the unseen walls, and I eased deeper into the sheltering darkness, tugging my arm free of Ivy’s grip.

            “You said you couldn’t take the focus out of him if he was cursed,” Walter shouted, and I fumbled to get the binoculars focused. “Well, now he isn’t,” he said, throwing something at the magic user’s feet. It was a ring, bouncing once before rolling to a halt in front of the man. “Do your magic and rip it out of him,” Walter practically growled. “Or I’ll rip something out of you.”

            The robed figure snatched it up, motions holding anger. “You fool!” he said, his loud voice hollow from a disguise charm. “I can’t remake it. You made it useless!”

            “My God,” I whispered, my relief that David was awake shifting to horror. “They’re going to try to take the focus out of him.” Pulse fast, I lowered the binoculars. “Where are Pike and Jenks? We have to get David out of there.”