Karrin gave me a flat look and, after a brief pause, said, “What?”

“We, uh . . . Look, it’s not what I thought it was. My condition isn’t what we thought it was, either.”

She eyed me carefully. “No? Then what is your condition, exactly?”

I told her.

* * *

“Come on,” I said. “Get up.”

She sat on the floor, rocking back and forth helplessly with laughter. Her plate with its slice of pizza had landed beside her when she’d fallen out of her chair a few minutes before, and hadn’t moved.

“Stop it,” she gasped. “Stop making me laugh.”

I was getting a little annoyed now, as well as embarrassed. My face felt as though it had a mild sunburn. “Dammit, Karrin, we’re supposed to be back at the slaughterhouse in twenty minutes. Come on, it’s just not that funny.”

“The look”—she panted, giggling helplessly—“on your . . . face . . .”

I sighed and muttered under my breath and waited for her to recover.

It took her only a couple more minutes, though she drifted back into titters several times before she finally picked herself up off the floor.

“Are you quite finished?” I asked her, trying for a little dignity.

She dissolved into hiccoughing giggles again instantly.

It was highly unprofessional.

Twenty-five

By the time we got back to the slaughterhouse, the sun had gone down, and the night had come on cold and murky. Rain had begun to fall in a fine mist, and the temperature had dropped enough that I could see it starting to coat the city in a fine sheet of ice.

“Ice storm,” Karrin noted as she parked the car. “Perfect.”

“At least it’ll keep people in,” I said.

“Depending on how this goes, that might cut down on innocent bystanders,” she said. “Is Mab messing with the weather again?”

I squinted out at the weather. “No,” I said, immediately and instinctively certain of the answer. “This is just winter in Chicago being winter in Chicago. Mab doesn’t care about innocent bystanders.”

“But she might care about giving you an advantage.”

I snorted and said, “Mab helps those who help themselves.”

Karrin gave me a thin smile. “That thing you did, with the Genoskwa. You threw magic at it.”

“Yep.”

“It didn’t work, I guess.”

“Nope,” I said. “I hit him with my best shot, something Mab gave me. Just drained off him, grounded out.”

“Grounded,” she said. “Like with a lightning rod?”

“Exactly like that,” I said. “The Forest People know magic, and they’re ridiculously powerful, but they understand it differently than humans do. The one I knew used water magic like nothing I’d ever seen or heard of before. This Genoskwa . . . I think he’s using earth magic thesame way. On a level I don’t know a damned thing about.”

“Pretend I don’t know a damned thing about earth magic either,” Karrin said, “and bottom-line it for me.”

“I threw the most potent battle magic I know at him, and he shut it down with zero trouble. I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to do it as much as he wants.”

“He’s immune to magic?” Karrin asked.

I shrugged. “If he senses it coming and can take action, pretty much,” I said. “Which makes me think that he’s not all that bright.”

“Hell of a secret to give away when his goal wasn’t to actually kill you.”

“No kidding,” I said. “Maybe he gave me too much credit and assumed I already knew. Either way, I know now.”

“Right,” Karrin said. “Which gives you an advantage. You won’t bother trying to blast him with magic the next time.”

I shuddered, thinking of the creature’s sheer speed and power, and of exactly how little he feared me. I touched the handle of my new revolver, now loaded and in my duster pocket. “With any luck, there won’t be a next time.”

Karrin turned to me abruptly, her expression earnest. “Harry,” she said quietly, “that thing means to kill you. I know what it looks like. Don’t kid yourself.”

I grimaced and looked away.

Satisfied that she’d made her point, she nodded and got out of the car. She’d slung one of her space guns (she’d called it a Kriss) on a harness under her coat, and you almost couldn’t see it when she moved. She rolled around to the trunk, looked up and down the street once, and then took out the rocket launcher and slung it over her shoulder. In the dark, in the rain, it looked like it might have been one of those protective tubes that artists use, maybe three and a half feet long.

“Really think you can hit him with that thing?” I asked.

“It’s weapon enough to handle him,” she said. “If I have to.”

I squinted up at the drizzling mist and said, “I’m getting tired of this job.”

“Let’s get it done, then,” Karrin said.

* * *

This time, when we rolled in, Jordan wasn’t on duty. Maybe he’d been given a shift off to get some sleep. Or maybe Nicodemus was so sure I was about to break through his conditioning and suborn him that he’d moved the kid to a less vulnerable post. Yeah. That was probably it.

When we came in, most of the crew was already downstairs, gathered around the conference table. Even the Genoskwa was standing around in plain sight, albeit in a deep patch of shadow that reduced his visible presence to an enormous, furry shadow. Only Nicodemus and Deirdre were absent—and I spotted Deirdre standing silently on one of the catwalks, looking down at the table, where Binder was telling some sort of animated anecdote or joke.