14. Just try not to kill me.

FOURTEEN

Just try not to kill me.

Wednesday, May 9, 2057

South Necropolis, Precinct 180

Cauldron City, Nebraska.

Zenna dressed me in a suit, one made with a bulletproof lining that could stop just about any round fired my way. The mix of magic and technology intrigued me. I could do something similar with my stones, but I’d never thought to imbue the cloth itself with the wards.

When I got home and had some time, I would play around with my work clothes. An extra layer of protection might keep me from taking a round or having any direct experience with a poisoned dart. A CB proved to be the source of some of Zenna’s intel. She had a radio for each precinct in Cauldron City, and she had someone listening in to each one to monitor how law enforcement moved.

I gave credit where credit was due: the woman went all in on her criminal activities, and she did her best to protect her people. Precinct 153 showed the most activity, and at Zenna’s invitation, I reviewed the codes being dispatched, going back in time to the attack on the hospital. In a way, I was relieved to discover the hospital had been hit several hours after the airport incident. Neither Paul nor Miranda had needed to go to the hospital, although an ambulance had been dispatched.

The hospitals remained emergency coded, but I was able to identify the moment when Jace had gone from critical and on death’s door to fully stabilized. The evidence Zenna kept her word satisfied me. I pointed at one of the codes the listener had gotten wrong and said, “This is a code specific for Cauldron City. It means the disturbance involved magic and to send a good magicker.”

Zenna peeked at the one I referenced before sighing. “My fault. Pass the code update around and update our book. Thank you, Detective Lovell.”

“You’re welcome. As the frequencies are public knowledge and the public is permitted to listen, you’re not doing anything I need to address anyway. Consider it as thanks for Jace.”

“Your friend will be fine,” she promised. “I believe I might return you straight to the hospital along with more supplies for poisoning victims. They’re overwhelmed if the codes are to be believed.”

“With their best doctors fighting for their lives, that’s an understatement.” Between the dragons and the unicorns, I worried Cauldron City might be reduced to rubble by the time they finished hunting Dr. Lerrans. “Where do we need to go to bust this bastard’s labs? ”

“It’s not too far. Follow me. Can you ride a motorcycle?”

I heaved a sigh. “Legally? No. Illegally? Maybe if you showed me. I know how to ride a bicycle.”

“I got some friendly for beginners. It won’t take you long, and if you show up on a bike wearing a suit, no one will believe it’s you.”

What were a few broken laws? I’d be let off without even a slap on the wrist; Cauldron City automatically forgave kidnapping victims of most crimes when escaping captivity. If I showed up outside of the station on a stolen bike and a suit, it would usher in the sort of chaos Paul typically held responsibility for. “Do I get to keep the bike?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It was even legally purchased, and I’ll sign it over to you. I’ll sell it to you for ten dollars.”

I laughed at the amount, which was one dollar higher than Cauldron City’s minimum legal amount to sell a motorized vehicle of any sort. “Just try not to kill me.”

“You’ll love it. It’s a big Harley, the kind you wouldn’t mind riding across the country. It only looks like it lumbers. If speed is your thing, you won’t be disappointed. It just not as agile as other bikes.”

I’d seen the big Harleys before, and I’d always admired them from a distance. “And you’re sure riding this thing won’t kill me?”

“I’m sure. Cars don’t really fit in the underground connection tunnels, so we use the bikes. You’ll be a master at handling the Harley within an hour.” Zenna herded me through the work area and took me down a short and narrow tunnel to a lab. Six people worked behind a glass wall, handling vials of samples while running tests through a series of machines. “This is where we’re working on improving the antidote. We’ve gotten it to the stage that it begins the process of reversing organ damage immediately. Following administration, even the critical cases, assuming they aren’t beyond the point of no return, should be in tolerable shape within a week. Once we got our hands on a replicating poison sample, we were able to do experiments on it to find out what neutralizes it outside of the body.”

“Hydrogen peroxide.”

“That’s a good one. Good job on figuring that out. How did you learn that trick?”

As I saw no harm in sharing how the forensics folks had stopped the spread, I replied, “One of the replicating samples escaped its bag, and the team started tossing various stuff on it to see what happened. Hydrogen peroxide stopped the replication process.”

“That’s one way to do it. Anyway, I’m hopeful that we can refine the antidote given some more time. Since we got our hands on Dr. Lerrans’s research materials, we’ve been able to make good progress. We did find out he’s using the cadavers to test his antidotes. The magic in the antidote makes it work on living and dead flesh.”

Damn. In theory, he could purge the poison and make it harder on law enforcement to discern the true cause of death. “That’s vile.”

“It truly is. This way.” Zenna opened a hatch which led into a garage loaded with motorcycles, most of them new. “These are our new wheels. Everyone has a personal garage attached to their living quarters. Pick the one you like the most, and I’ll teach you how to ride it. I get to take whatever bike I want that doesn’t belong to somebody since this is my operation. ”

Motorcycles in every color of the rainbow and then some waited to be claimed. As promised, she had a collection of lumbering Harleys, and had I been patrolling in my cruiser, I would have been keeping an eye on the riders for trouble.

Local gang members tended to favor large Harleys. A black one splashed with pink and purple drew my attention, and I laughed at the decals, which featured flaming kittens running around with feathers on a stick in their mouths. “What is this?”

“I got bored.”

Nobody would believe I would consider riding a motorcycle in the first place. But to ride a black one tricked out in pink and purple kittens? It was the perfect disguise. “Got any wolf or hummingbird decals?”

Zenna considered the motorcycle, and after a moment, she pointed at two spots. “I suppose I could hook you up with decals there.”

“Pumpkin is a wolf-dog, and Marrinni is my new hummingbird partner.”

“Ah! I see. You wish to mark your territory. Wait here.”

Zenna hurried off, and I circled the motorcycle, examining every inch of it. Judging from the packet of papers hanging from the handlebar, it was legally registered, although I would need my cruiser’s laptop to run the plate to find out who technically owned it. The woman returned with the decals and a pink and purple motorcycle helmet, which she handed to me. She installed the decals with help from a credit card.

Both wolf and hummingbird were pink.

While she worked, I asked, “Do you make sure your folks stay legal when out with these? ”

“I sure do. We stay underground, and we don’t participate in any of the particularly questionable activities. We deal with drugs, but we take care with our buyers. Dead druggies can’t pay us. We also run a rehab for those wanting to get out, so they pay us to clean them up. We do black market work as well, but we don’t do the dark deals. We’re the softer market in the area—and we’re making it so the darker market has to step with care so they don’t cross us. We want to be in the position where law enforcement would rather keep us around than invite worse trouble.”

“Good plan,” I replied. I’d seen people get onto their motorcycles enough times to figure out how to mount, but I had zero idea how to operate the damned thing. Zenna handed me a set of keys. I found the ignition, inserted the key, and fired up the engine. She showed me how the controls worked, explained how I needed to shift my weight and lean into the turns, and promised the suit would protect me in case of an accident.

The helmet fit well, and after a few minutes, she got the radio set up, which could read the police channels as well as the one they used for private communications.

Magic made certain only those with the original radio units and the passcode could access the frequency.

Zenna retrieved a yellow motorcycle with a matching helmet, shoved hers over her head, and said, “Read me loud and clear, Detective Lovell?”

“Loud and clear,” I confirmed.

“All right, baby boy. Time to learn how to ride. Take it easy until we’re in the tunnel, and then I’ll teach you to love the power of a good Harley. ”

Rather than protest over having to do something more than a little reckless and dangerous, I did as told.

Wednesday, May 9, 2057

South Necropolis, Precinct 112

Cauldron City, Nebraska.

Unlike most in my life, Zenna respected my hesitancies with the Harley. Unlike everyone else, she managed to coax me into testing the machine’s power on a longer stretch of straight tunnel.

I survived, and torn between being thrilled and horrified, I brought the bike to a halt, staring at the woman with wide eyes.

“What made you afraid of speed, baby boy?”

I thought about it. “I’m partnered with a speed demon.”

“Accident?”

I shrugged. “Maybe when I was younger? I had trouble with the driving courses in the police academy, too.”

“It happens. Practice will help. Ease yourself into it. Start with eleven over, then twelve, and so on, until it no longer scares you. Exposure therapy, gently done so you can adapt to it and master the right skills. You’re the methodical kind, and they like to throw people into driving fast and doing stunts.” She pointed at a doorway ahead of us. “That’s the entry into Mercy’s main operations. The instant they cleared out to hit New York, we moved in—and we’ve been killing them off as we catch them. We’re keeping guard, so Mercy will stay out until you pretty boys in blue come pay the place a visit.”

She got off her motorcycle, and I followed suit, taking the helmet off and placing it on the seat once I had the kickstand set. “I’m woefully unarmed for this.”

Zenna reached into her pocket, pulled out my stones, and offered them to me. “I was waiting for you to comment about your lacking weaponry. I figured giving you a firearm would trip your goody-goody trigger, but these should do.”

I accepted the stones, checked them over, and discovered a few new rocks, some of which were uncut gemstones. I plucked out one of paler gems, a pale yellow, and held it up, narrowing my eyes at it.

I’d seen diamonds enough times to recognize the material, and that it was the size of a larger marble alarmed me. “Is this actually a diamond?”

“A unicorn owed me a favor, and rather than make him pay out in questionable fashions, I had the poor bastard eat cheese and chicken for a month. He paid me off with the entire haul. We all walked away happy with the arrangement. I got the payload, he was freed from our deal. It just cost him a month of eating what I gave him. The instant that stone touched my hand, I knew its fate. It belongs in a magicker’s hands. You’re the first magicker I’ve met worthy of it.”

I was afraid to ask what the other stones were made of.

“I can see the fear in your eyes. Yes, they’re all diamonds. You’ll need them. View them as the tools you will need to destroy Mercy and its leader.”

I closed my fingers around the stones and slipped them into my pocket, activating the smallest of mine to make certain none of them escaped. “When you put it that way, I feel I don’t have enough of these little stones.”

She laughed at me. “You will find the larger of the diamonds to be quite versatile, capable of holding the focal runes for anything your heart desires. I believe you are equal to the responsibility of owning that one.”

I regarded Miranda’s mother with interest. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“During the day, you’re the brilliance of the blue sky. At dusk and dawn, you mesh with the lingering light of the sun. But in the darkest part of the night, you are a shining star, capturing the gaze of those seeking hope in the heavens. You are not without darkness—no one is. But even when you go unnoticed, you are there, a quiet force to be reckoned with. You just need a chance to shine.”

I would lose many an hour considering her words. In some ways, her statement made sense. I often blended in with the other detectives, quietly doing my job and keeping the peace wherever possible. If I could defuse conflict, I did.

Showing up on a black, pink, and purple motorcycle would be the last thing anyone expected.

I was no sun hanging in the sky, shining for everyone to see. I left that job to men like Jace.

My worries for the white unicorn would gnaw away at me until I saw him back on his feet doing what he did best. Having seen the aftermath of the other poisoning victims, how long would it be until he healed?

I’d find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’d cause trouble for Mercy, gather as much information as I could, and work on sending Dr. Lerrans to the nastiest hell I could find .

I rummaged through my pocket full of stones, exploring until I found one that warmed my fingertips.

I extracted a clear diamond, only a little smaller than its yellow brethren, splashed with red and orange in its heart. I held it up to catch the light from the overhead lamps, narrowing my eyes as I considered it. “What do you see in this stone?”

“A swift and violent but merciful end to any it takes offense to. You won’t need a gun with that ready. Its fires will burn as bright and hot as the sun’s.”

That would do. “I don’t suppose you have an etching tool with you?”

With a smile, she pulled a needle case from her pocket and handed it over. “One never knows when something needs to be sewn—or carved into stone.”

I accepted the case, opened it, and selected the needle with the smallest tip before handing the rest back. “This one won’t be suitable for sewing again once I’m done with it.”

“It was destined for better and bigger things. We all have a purpose. Its purpose is to serve you rather than sew.”

While runes made my job easier, I didn’t need a focus to work magic. Concentration and determination were the key components, and I stared at the needle, willing it to be stronger than diamond and sharper than any knife. My fingertips tingled, and the metal shone with a pale blue light. Once it faded, I made use of my new helmet, resting my elbows on it to stabilize my arms before getting a good hold on the diamond with my left hand and drawing the simplest rune I could think of to imbue the stone with its purpose.

I chose the bull’s eye, a dot within a ring within another ring. The tiny dot, little more than a scratch on the diamond’s surface, would represent pinpoint accuracy when I brought my magic to life.

Only those I meant to kill would perish in the diamond’s lethal light.

The first ring would serve as a general focus, allowing me to use it for just about anything I needed. The final ring was the dangerous marking.

Double rings tended to amplify magic—and mine didn’t need any extra help. But if a chance at Dr. Lerrans manifested, I would channel everything I had into the diamond until its fire could reduce even a red dragon to smoldering ruin.

To test the stone, I tossed it into the air. It hung at eye level, and it cast a red-orange radiance over the tunnel, shedding a pleasant warmth as it did so.

“When the darkness comes creeping in, remember your beauty,” Zenna murmured, and she came around my bike to pat my shoulder. “May that diamond serve you and your community well.”

I reached out my hand, and the diamond dropped onto my palm. I returned it to my pocket, and unlike my other stones, I remained aware of its presence. I gave her the needle back, which she returned to the case. “Thank you.”

Zenna went to the door, grabbed hold of the handle, and pulled it open. After a few moments, she waved for me to join her.

Cold air wafted from the room beyond, and when I peeked inside, I realized I beheld a morgue, one with hundreds upon hundreds of storage boxes meant for humanoid remains. Operating tables were scattered across the room, and each one had numerous pieces of medical equipment nearby. “This is one of Mercy’s primary labs?”

“It is. We’ve already removed all the research material and information, but there are least six hundred corpses interred here that Dr. Larrens studied. We fear some of them might still be alive.”

Like Roger. “Damn it. Do you know who they are?”

“No, we don’t. That’s one thing we’re not equipped to do. We don’t have access to those databases—nor can we access the fingerprint databases.”

That was likely for the better. “Did you print them?”

Zenna nodded, went to one of the stations along the wall, moved the mouse, typed in a password, and activated a nearby printer. Two sheets of paper were spit out, each one featuring five sets of prints. I grabbed them, folded them up, and put them within the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “You’re going to need a way to reach me if you think they’re alive.”

“We’ll deliver their bodies to the hospital after the unicorns are recovered and the hospitals are no longer coded,” she promised. “Some of them are preparing to return to normal operating status, although they’re on high alert and ready to handle any overflow from the closed hospital.” Once she locked the screen, she went to one of the storage units, grabbed the handle, and opened it, revealing a stash of syringes loaded with a clear fluid. “This is the prepared antidote.” Reaching inside, she pulled out a backpack, the kind I recognized as insulated. “It needs to kept cool. It starts losing its integrity if it gets over seventy degrees for more than a few minutes. I recommend you use magic to get this batch to the station so it can do the most good. The dragon took enough to supply the hospital, but you’ll need more.”

I stared while she loaded the backpack with trays of the syringes. “Are there any vials of it? Not just prepared syringes?”

“Yes. I’ll send some along with you. Of course, you’ll act like you robbed the place. It’s more fun that way.”

“I feel dirty,” I informed her, and I grinned so she realized I wasn’t all that serious.

I’d do far more than commit an act of robbery to crush Mercy beneath my heel.

Zenna’s phone rang, and she answered it, “Yes?”

For a moment, she was silent, and then she erupted into curses, thanked the caller, and hung up. She dug out a second bag, and she shoved as many vials and syringes into it as possible. “Those motherfuckers just hit another hospital, and they’re already out of the antidote the dragon took over. Dispatch just lit up about it.”

“Which one?”

“Precinct 169.”

The hospital in Precinct 169 had experience with the toxin, which made it the ideal target. “I guess it’s time to see if I can learn how to speed like I mean it on a motorcycle.”

“Can you use your magic while you drive?”

I could, and I’d be causing more than a few accidents on the way to the hospital unless everything went right. “I can.”

“You have enough antidote to help the situation at Precinct 169. I’ll go to the hospital in Precinct 101 so they’re ready. That one is probably going to be hit next. Mercy dislikes them for helping the other hospitals.”

She could get there without breaking the law, where I’d have to blow the doors off police cars to get there. “What’s the fastest way to the surface?”

“There’s a parking garage right over us with an access point. I’ll show you.”

“I don’t suppose you happen to have a car?” I sighed.

“Are you going to be able to get it through traffic without sirens and lights?”

“With some magic, yes.”

She considered me. “The motorcycle is more maneuverable, and that means it’s going to be faster in this case.”

I hoped heaven was prepared to help me. I would need all the help I could get. “How the hell do I stop this damned thing in a hurry?”

“Hit the brakes. Just ease to a halt and let it crash once you’re slow enough to get off. I can afford the repair bill.” Zenna herded me to the door and gestured for me to get on my new Harley. “Use your magic and remember every minute you lose raises the chance people die.”

Once I made it back to the station, I would request a day off, and I would hide in bed with my puppy. Assuming I was ready to come out of hiding, I would send myself to the moon drinking coffee, and I’d fill the minutes between cups roasting more beans.

Should I run out of beans to roast, I’d go back to bed with my puppy to resume hiding.

Until then, I would do my best and hope the victims of the latest attack held on long enough for me to get to them with my precious cargo.

Wednesday, May 9, 2057

Lower Restaurant Row, Precinct 169

Cauldron City, Nebraska.

One of Zenna’s workers relayed police dispatches to me while I blazed a trail across Cauldron City. Every fear and hesitancy vanished like smoke in the face of a hurricane, torn away without a trace. Only one thing mattered, and that was making it to the hospital before I ran out of time.

Every second dragged into an eternity.

By the time I roared across the precinct line into 169, I had picked up a trio of interceptors, and I took advantage of the scattering cars obeying the sirens to push the Harley’s engine to its limits.

Any other day, I would have been horrified by having someone give me a crash course in how to best handle a motorcycle. A wild childhood pretending to be a cop chasing criminals on my bicycle served me surprisingly well.

It turned out I’d already mastered the theory of riding a motorcycle through being a typical American boy set loose to play.

“You have a pair of cops blocking the upcoming intersections,” Zenna’s dispatcher warned me. “Zenna recommends you make a ramp and go to town with your magic.”

Cussing, I called on my magic to free the stones from my pocket. They poured out and zipped along beside my bike, and they trailed streamers of blue and red in their wake. I pushed the Harley as hard as I could without blowing its engine, aware the poor machine would need some tender, loving care once I finished with it.

Sure enough, a blockade waited for me. I whistled to the stones, and they shot ahead. The streamers flared and spread forward, creating a path up and over the parked cruiser and the intercepting officers. Aware one might fire shots, I whistled again, activating the one stone dedicated to shielding and protecting. A shimmering barrier sprung into being around me, its tip a sharp point meant to slice through the air while deflecting any projectiles.

I tightened my hold on the motorcycle, grunted when the front wheel connected with the makeshift ramp, and went up and over. Something about the insubstantial surface pushed the Harley on to greater speeds as did the decline. The bike thumped back to the asphalt.

Zenna’s dispatcher burst into laughter. “You’ve gotten them cursing good, Detective Lovell. Good work. What did you do?”

“I made a path over their car. It’s a trick I’ve done before with Paul,” I admitted. “He would drive, and I’d make certain we didn’t come to a fiery end.”

“How does it feel being the driver?”

“Terrifying.”

He laughed at me.

My stones reassembled alongside me, and some zipped ahead. Streamers surrounded me, and when I crossed through them, I cooled from the contact. The sounds of sirens fell back.

I whistled again, creating a siren to warn drivers ahead of me .

If people got out of my way, we might all escape through my haphazard dash across the precinct alive.

“They are calling in Precinct 169 officers from a nearby station,” he warned.

That would complicate matters for me. If they were on the ball, they’d be on the road within thirty seconds. If memory served, I’d have no more than a minute or two before they joined the chase in earnest. “How is the hospital situation?”

“It’s not good.”

“Any casualties yet?”

“Not as far as I can tell, but it’ll be soon. I don’t think they know yet. If it’s anything like the other hospital, all the ER patients will die first, and you wouldn’t have been able to save them even if you’d been right outside when Mercy hit.”

I let loose a volley of curses, wondering what sort of magic trick I could use accelerate the Harley when I already pushed its engine to its limit. As the path had gained me speed, I decided I’d go abandon caution to the four winds.

If it took me summoning every last scrap of my magic to get to the hospital before someone died, I’d give everything I had and then some. If I pushed my luck too hard, I’d be joining those fighting for their lives.

Magickers died every year from their powers cannibalizing their muscles, organs, and bones for energy to fuel their magic. Assuming I played the game right, I’d arrive exhausted but in one piece, requiring a few days in bed, with my puppy, to recover from the working.

I would steal every kill possible from Dr. Lerrans’s vile hands.

For me, there was no other choice .

I whistled.

The diamond with a heart of fire flashed with light, and a path of light stretched out before me. The motorcycle bounced when it hit the edge, and I concentrated on keeping the machine barreling along. As I’d wanted, the bike zipped forward, the magic helping to propel it along. When possible, I kept the path on top of the asphalt to limit the energy needed to sustain the working.

I could feel the strength seeping out of me to power the stones darting around me.

While more cops joined the chase, they refrained from attempting to cut me off.

I’d thank them for their caution later. With my magic helping, I left the interceptors in my dust.

“What the hell are you doing? They just clocked you at two twenty. That model maxes out at one twenty, and it only goes that fast because we modded it.”

“I’m a magicker,” I reminded him.

“I was unaware that you could strap rockets to your ass while riding a bike.”

I laughed at his comment, wondering if I could get even more speed doing just that. However, at my current speed, I’d be able to reach the hospital in less than two minutes.

As every second counted, I whistled and used the back of the Harley as the platform for funnels of wind. The extra trick cost me, and I could feel my heart rate increase as my body struggled to handle the power I channeled.

“Two fifty,” Zenna’s dispatcher reported.

To reach the hospital, I would need to cut a corner at the intersection ahead. Rather than slow down, I mimicked the banked racetracks for high speed races to preserve my speed. I fought the bike and the wind, leaning into the curve, aware of my leg drawing perilously close to the glowing road. Rather than allow my fear to slow me, I forced my attention on my goal.

The ER entrance of the hospital had doors large enough for a motorcycle, and I intended to ride straight inside, using magic to bring the bike in overhead. If the situation was as dire as I expected, there would be bodies in need of the antidote right inside. “Any news on the situation at the hospital? Where are the most bodies?”

“They hit the ER first. That’s the easiest to access.”

“I’ll be coming in hot.”

“Just watch out for the bodies.”

I would. Rather than waste my breath on answering, I angled the bike towards the ER entrance, whistling to make certain the exterior doors were opened. They opened as I drew close.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of so many people lying prone or writhing on the floor. Mercy had struck out against doctors, nurses, and civilians alike, leaving a trail of carnage throughout the hospital. I slammed the bike’s brakes, used my magic to come to a somewhat abrupt halt, picked a spot clear of victims, and killed the engine. I took the time to lower the kickstand, dismounted, and slung the backpack off, digging out the first tray of syringes, removed the air bubbles, and thanked my lucky stars I’d been taking paramedic courses.

I could use syringes without killing someone.

For Cauldron City to survive the next waves of poisonings, we needed every last one of our doctors and nurses. I aimed for everyone wearing a doctor’s coat first, administering the antidote in their upper arms. I abandoned the used needle, grabbed another, and hoped my efforts made a difference.

Sirens announced the arrival of the police. I paused long enough to lift the helmet’s visor before giving the next antidote, pointing at the pack and its precious contents. “Syringes with the antidote are in there. If you don’t know how to inject someone safely, hold the trays and hand them off to those who do.”

Rather than shoot at me, the first responding officer burst into curses, went to the backpack, and dug out the next tray, bringing it over. “Detective Lovell?”

Later, I’d try to figure out who the hell the cop was, but I didn’t care; him recognizing me saved a great deal of hassle. “In the flesh. Do we have any paramedics left?”

“They’re elsewhere.”

“Get them here.”

True to the dispatcher’s word, the ER entry had been hit first and the hardest. Judging from how the bodies had piled up, the hospital had coded, the floors had emptied, and Mercy’s bastards had shot them as they’d emerged from the staircases and elevators much like someone fished for trout out of a barrel. It made my job easier, and I worked with the cop to help as many as possible.

He removed the darts and exposed their arms. I jabbed, depressed the plunger, and prepped the next syringe. When the paramedics arrived, they checked the victims we’d already tended to.

The dead went one way, the living went the other. I found some consolation that there were more of the latter, but my heart hurt every time I faced the bitter truth that I hadn’t been able to save everyone through pushing my limits. As we reached the end of the first batch of the poisoned, I summoned the magic needed to detect the toxin.

The cop and I had both been exposed, although it took its sweet time spreading due to the minute dosages. Using the strength of the glow to guide me, I treated those with most exposure first.

I ran out of patients before syringes, and I sat back on my heels, wiping sweat from my brow. “We both need a round.”

“No surprise. I was handling the darts, and you’ve been handling syringes I’ve been giving to you.” Without any hesitation, he held out his arm for his jab, which I delivered after checking for air in the needle. “You’ll have to get yours done by a paramedic.”

As we had more than a few around, I grabbed a syringe for me and headed over for the nearest one, explaining I’d gotten exposed while helping the patients. The woman nodded, took the syringe, checked it for air, and jabbed me with it. “Take that helmet off, and I’ll do your health checks.”

“He’s to go to the nearest open hospital,” the cop stated. “He’s our missing detective.”

Right. I took off the helmet, wrinkled my nose at the sweaty mess my hair had become, and wandered in the direction of my new Harley, which had been moved out of the way but was still in the ER entry. I set the helmet on the seat and gave the bike a fond pat. “I’m going to need someone to take care of my new girl. She needs her engine checked and everything motorcycles get after a hard day.”

“Are you even licensed for motorcycles, Lovell?”

“I’m really not, but I figure I’ll beg for forgiveness once my captain gets a hold of me. In good news, the bike’s actually mine, and I got her papers, signed over to me, in my jacket.” I opened the suit jacket to show the envelope holding it. I realized my stones still hovered in the air around me, and I held out my hand. They piled together on my palm, and I counted each one before placing them into my pocket. Heaving a sigh, I turned to check the row of the dead, set reverently along a wall, each one covered with a white sheet.

Twelve was twelve too many, and I stared for a while, wondering if any of them would have made it.

As though reading my mind, the paramedic rested her hand on my shoulder and said, “They were the ER patients. Everyone who appeared to be in good health made it. We might be able to save a few of the other ER patients, but we’ll see. You could have teleported to the site without saving them, not with the medical staff unable to work. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Now, why don’t you come this way and have a seat in my ambulance so we can get you headed in the right direction.”

“I’ll make sure your bike gets to your station,” the cop said, shooting me a salute. “I’ll also contact dispatch with your location and that you’re safe and sound along with your role in the antidote transportation. Where did you get that batch?”

“Let’s just say there’s a guardian angel in the necropolis, and she wanted to have a chat with me. Let’s give her the code name of Angel Underground, because that’s what she is today. She’s the one who busted Mercy’s lab and got hold of the antidote.”

“Bless her,” he replied. “I’m Montgomery Geralds, by the way. We were a little busy earlier for introductions. ”

“Just a bit. Nice to meet you. Think you can convince my captain to leave me alive when he gets his claws on me?”

“I’m pretty sure I can do that. Will you get to go home alone for a while? That I wouldn’t be so sure about. You’ve got nothing to worry about, not even that little blitz across Cauldron City. That antidote batch was your get out of jail free card.”

“Thanks again, Montgomery.”

“Come along, Detective Lovell,” the paramedic prompted, shoving me in the direction of the ambulance. “They’ve gotten the hospital in 153 back into operation, so we’ll be taking you there to join the rest of the patients being monitored after being dosed with that antidote. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but why take any chances?”