But some weird movement caught my eye, and I glanced over at the shadowy side of the building to see Curly dancing around, cussing, and repeatedly jamming his card into a reader by the door.
“Shit,” Ray said.
“I thought he had access,” I said.
“He’s supposed to have access!”
“It doesn’t look like he has access.”
“I don’t have access!” Curly said, jogging back over.
“Why not?” Ray demanded. “You said they have you over here all the time—”
“They do!” Beads of sweat were forming on the bald head. “Every time something goes wrong, I’m their go-to. It’s not enough they steal my idea; they expect me to make it work, too! And for fifteen years’ experience, what do I get? A pissant consulting fee!”
“And a card somebody canceled.”
“It still worked at the gate! That probably means I’ve just been bumped down a level in clearance.”
“They’re not worried about you; they’re just battening down,” Rufus translated.
James’ dad was the fourth member of our little squad, and I was unhappy about it. He looked like an older, darker, more wizened version of Curly, except instead of curls he had a little ring of snow-white fuzz around his head, and unlike Curly’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression, his was shrewd and focused.
I’d nipped by his shop to get resupplied, because I was out of almost everything, and had let slip what was going on. I’d hoped it would get me access to the not-entirely-legal stash in his back room. Instead, it got me a partner.
And there was no getting around it. If I hadn’t agreed to take him along, he was going to scream bloody murder to the Corps, which was all this needed: a bunch of jarheads with too much magic and a serious lack of subtlety. We needed to get in, get out, and do it quietly. We did not need the Corps. So Rufus it was.
I just hoped I wasn’t going to have to tell James that I’d gotten his dad killed.
“We’ll go in the front,” Curly was saying. “It’s okay; they know me—”
“They know her, too!” Ray said, gesturing at me. “That’s the whole point!”
“So leave her out—”
“She’s the vargr! We can’t leave her out!”
We also couldn’t stand around discussing this. After Curly spilled the beans, Marlowe had given us exactly one hour to locate the weapons and rescue James before he sent in his boys. They were already getting into position, a literal army of vampires ready to swoop down on the cache as soon as we found it—assuming we did. Because the damned things read like people and this place was packed.
It was the only reason Marlowe gave a shit about James: he assumed he’d be with the weapons. And considering how vindictive Alfhild was, and that these things could level half the city, rushing in without knowing exactly where they were wasn’t smart. Of course, neither was letting her do whatever she was planning, hence the compromise.
And my latest ulcer.
Because guess who was supposed to deal with Alfhild if she spotted us?
Rufus had been watching me. He patted the big black suitcase he was carrying. Among other things, it contained a duplicate syringe to the one I had taped to my thigh.
“We get this in him, and he won’t be a problem.”
“But Alfhild mig
ht,” I pointed out. “She can jump to somebody else if she loses James.”
“Maybe not. They share a consciousness at the moment, from what I understand. If he goes out fast enough, she may, too.”
“May,” Ray said darkly. “That’s great. We may not end up in the stewpot. I feel much better now.”
“You can stay behind,” Rufus said curtly.