Then came a sound that didn’t—couldn’t—come from one of us.

I ran through a maze of rooms—gray metal walls, metal ceiling, wood floor. My heart pounded; my lungs struggled to breathe. Had to get out; had to find help.

The next room had baskets of bright-colored toys filling a row of metal tables—little bits of plastic no bigger than a thumb in the shape of animals. In a world reduced to metallic gray, the colors were startling, unnerving, life- affirming. I picked up a basket—and heard a sound behind me.

I don’t know what it was. It was human-shaped but nothing human. The head rising from a soiled white shirt and thin-striped brown suit looked like papier-mâché draped with dirty strips of gauze that settled around its shoulders. Instead of eyes, a pair of black goggles were somehow attached to the gauze—not tight, not like there were straps holding them on to provide some shape to the white lump. It was as if the goggles were its eyes. Several tie clips decorated the lapels of the suit.

I flung the plastic toys out of the basket, scattering them over the floor like wash water. The gauze-headed thing stumbled over the plastic bits, just a moment of unbalance. I dropped the empty basket, grabbed another that was full of the colored toys, and ran, pursued by the terrible thing that was dressed like a businessman but was deadly and monstrous.

I heard a ding, saw the freight elevator’s doors open. If I could get to the elevator, I could get to the ground floor, get out, get help. Paige was hurt—no one screamed that way if they weren’t hurt—and I didn’t know what had happened to Ineke.

I looked back—and it was there, right there, coming toward me. Did I have time to get in the elevator and press the button? Would the elevator doors close before that thing reached them—and me?

I threw the basket at it, but the basket turned into a pillow that bounced off its chest. I leaped into the elevator, slapped at the panel, and pushed the B button. Wrong button! There were bad things in the basement. There were always bad things in the basement. I pushed the button for the ground floor. The gauze-headed thing reached in as the elevator doors began to close. Reached in to grab me, to drag me back into something unspeakable. I flung myself to the side of the compartment, desperate to avoid that touch and . . .

I woke up on the floor next to my bed, my heart pounding and a sharp pain above my left eye, surrounded by a sense of ow and a trickle of something wet.

It took a couple of tries to get to my feet. I wobbled my way to the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared at the blood trickling from the area above the corner of my left eyebrow.

That was so not good, especially when I could see the swelling already starting. I rinsed a washcloth in cold water and applied it to the wound as I studied my face in the mirror. Did my eyes look weird? I didn’t feel like I’d banged my head against anything, but I’d obviously hit something on my way to the floor.

I lowered the washcloth and leaned closer to the mirror. The bleeding had stopped for the moment, revealing a couple of scrapes and a shallow gouge surrounded by swelling and shades of purple.

Wow.

As I dabbed antibiotic ointment on the scrape and covered it with a small bandage, it occurred to me that I would never feel the same when the hero in a story got hit in the face during a fight because faces really object to getting hit or hurt in any way and didn’t hold back when it came to letting you know about it.

Back in the bedroom, I turned on the light and wiped up the drops of blood that had fallen on the floor. The culprit—the square corner of the bedside table—didn’t have any obvious forensic evidence, but I wiped it off anyway.

Having done whatever I could do, I shut off the light and lay diagonally on the bed, my head as far from the table as possible. I entertained my mini anxiety attack by wondering if I should stay awake in case I had a concussion, which seemed unlikely, and by wondering how terra indigene Bears and Panthers reacted to minor blood spillage. I fell asleep while trying out different versions of how to explain this to Aggie.

CHAPTER 26

Aggie

Firesday, Juin 16

At first light, the Crowgard who lived around Lake Silence flew to the houses in Sproing for the treasure hunt. It wasn’t garbage day, so the trash cans weren’t at the curb, but it was the day when the recycling truck traveled the streets for paper, plastic, and glass.

An hour later, when humans were stirring and beginning to notice the Crows, most of the Crowgard flew away, bored and disappointed. Better to perch near the businesses and watch the humans and see if any of them wore the shiny that the Sanguinati wanted to find.

Determined to find something, Aggie flew to the house that belonged to the human who used to work at the bank. The houses were bigger on this street, and sometimes the humans here discarded things that weren’t even broken.

Just so she could say she’d been thorough, in case that was something the Sanguinati would reward, she poked through several recycling bins before she reached the bank human’s house and perched on the first recycling bin. Glass jars, plastic jugs. Nothing interesting.

She hop-flapped to the paper recycling bin. The Crows couldn’t get inside the houses to look for shinies, and paper wasn’t interesting unless it was a book that had a story.

Most of the humans in Sproing brought books to Lettuce Reed, but sometimes Julian Farrow put books into the recycling bin because pages were missing or the book was falling apart. Sometimes, if there were several stories in the book, most of them would be intact. The terra indigene rescued some of those books, willing to skip the stories that had missing pieces and read the ones that were complete.

Would the bank human throw away books? Probably. And not because they were old and broken. He would do it because he was that kind of human.

Movement around the house distracted her for a moment. Poised to fly away if there was danger, Aggie watched dozens of Sproingers take turns hopping up the steps to the bank human’s front door and pooping on the stoop. Then they hopped away, letting everyone on the street know their opinion of the human who lived there.

Air ruffled the papers in the recycling bin and directed the breeze so that the scent of poop blew into the house’s open windows.

The Elementals weren’t usually playful or obvious about targeting a particular human, which made Aggie wonder if the Sanguinati had approached that form of terra indigene to look for the tie clips.

Discouraged, Aggie almost flew away when a bit of gold shiny caught her eye. She pushed and pecked a few pieces of paper, flinging them out of the bin until she found the envelope that had a logo on the left-hand corner made of metallic gold ink.

A small treasure. Maybe useful to the Sanguinati, maybe not. But if the vampires didn’t want the envelope, she would keep it.

Hearing the front door open and the swearing that followed, Aggie grabbed her prize and flew back to The Jumble. Maybe Ilya Sanguinati would trade a different shiny for the envelope the way Officer Grimshaw had traded the pretty bracelet for the tie clip.

Shifting to human form when she reached her little cabin near the lake, Aggie went inside and dressed, choosing casual clothes similar to what she had seen Dominique Xavier wear last week. They both had dark hair, although Aggie’s hair was Crow black and Dominique’s hair was dark brown, but Aggie figured it was close enough that clothes and colors that Dominique chose would be appropriate, allowing Aggie to blend in with the humans. Blending in was important when approaching humans.

She brushed her long black hair and put on the charm bracelet. She couldn’t ask the Sanguinati for a reward for finding the bit of shiny paper, but wearing the bracelet would be a hint that, maybe, a reward should be given. Hinting wasn’t the same as asking and should be safe.

Aggie grabbed the envelope and ran out of the cabin. First she would show Miss Vicki and also make sure she hadn’t missed any clothing she should be wearing. She had studied humans carefully before renting the cabin at The Jumble, but sometimes she didn’t get the human things quite right.

Reaching the screened porch that ran across the back of the main house, Aggie turned the handle on the door and was a little surprised that it was unlocked. But Miss Vicki had planted flowers and did come out early to water them. That must be the reason.

Moving silently across the wooden floor, she reached the screen door that opened into the kitchen. She raised her hand to knock because that would be polite. Then Miss Vicki turned and Aggie saw the bandage, saw the purple shadows that were on one side of Miss Vicki’s face.