The lights were off in the cubicle maze, but I didn’t need them; the blood trail was all the guide I needed, and even in the dark, it was bright and clear as day. I put a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, motioning for him to be quiet. Gordan was somewhere nearby, and the Coblynau have some of the best night vision in Faerie. I, on the other hand, was practically blind while my eyes adjusted. That put us at a dangerous disadvantage.

“Where’s the light switch?” I whispered. If we could make a bright light, we might be able to turn Gordan’s night vision against her.

“Other side of the room,” Elliot whispered back.

So much for that idea. “Stay down. We’re taking this slow,” I said, and stepped away from the door. Elliot followed me, his footsteps echoing. I winced. I’m not as stealthy as, say, Tybalt, but at least I’ve had a little training. It was clear that Elliot hadn’t had any.

“Elliot, be quiet,” I hissed.

“I—”

There was a flash of light as the gun went off ahead of us. I shoved Elliot backward, diving for the floor. There was no new pain; she missed. That didn’t mean she’d miss again.

“Cover your mouth!” Elliot shouted.

The smell of lye rose in the air, hot and insistent. I covered my mouth and nose, closing my eyes just before a tidal wave of hot, soapy water washed over me. The cats yowled, caught in the flood. This was no simple steam cleaning; I felt myself lifted off the floor as the water rose. I shuddered and squeezed my eyes more tightly shut, trying to pretend I wasn’t floating. Repressing the panic attack was taking my full attention. I don’t like water. I don’t even like baths; just showers where the water never comes up past my ankles and there’s no chance of going under. But now I was submerged by a magical wave I couldn’t escape or control. I just had to hope Elliot knew what he was doing, and wasn’t going to drown us both.

The water swelled and then receded as the wave broke, leaving me as soaked as the rest of the room. Elliot’s magic hadn’t extended to drying this time. I raised my head, gasping, and turned toward him. He was staring into the distance, hands still raised. “Elliot . . . ?”

“Did I get her?” he asked. There was a dark stain spreading across his formerly pristine shirt. Gordan didn’t miss after all.

“Yeah, you did,” I said.

“Ah, good,” he said, and smiled, before pitching forward onto the floor. I started to move toward him, but stopped as I heard the sound of footsteps on the catwalks above. Gordan was still on the loose.