When I reached a small grassy area a dozen feet away, where metal sculptures made from old tractor parts hulked in the grass, I lifted up the screen.

“Okay,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to rescue someone.”

TWO

Adrenaline, prompted by those words, was like a comfy sweater. “Who needs rescuing?”

“One of my informants. She’s in trouble. I’m going to keep it brief because we need to hurry. And I’ll apologize for dumping this on you and Theo; I’m on childcare duty tonight and don’t have time to arrange for a sitter.”

“I understand. No worries. You’ve talked to Theo?”

“The timing there is . . . sensitive,” he said. “But I sent him a message. He should be on his way to you. Shit—I assume you’re still at the gallery with Lulu, right?”

I had no idea what “sensitive timing” involved my partner tonight, but I’d find out soon enough. “Yeah, I’m outside. Give me the basics.”

“I’ll send you some docs,” he said, “but her name’s Rose Doerman. She’s a sympath. She can manipulate others’ emotions. It’s like vampire glamour but dialed in, and usually less powerful. She lives in Edentown, Illinois.”

Edentown was southeast of Chicago, a town perched at the edge of the Illinois-Indiana border. It was a 1960s development built for commuters to Chicago who wanted plenty of space between themselves and their day jobs.

“She’s been feeding me information here and there for the last three years. Usually small-time stuff: Sups grifting humans. Human gangsters dipping into magic and spellselling, that kind of thing. Someone figured out she’s been helping us. They cornered her outside her place, jumped her. She managed to get away, but not without injuries.”

“Where is she now?”

“I only know she made her way to a spot she considers safe. She’s going to give it a little time, make sure she wasn’t followed. When she’s sure she’s clear, she’ll go to a bus stop in the old downtown—corner of Main and Third,” he said. “It’s usually empty at night. White female, five foot six, medium build, thirty years old. Blond hair and blue eyes. Although it probably won’t be hard to miss her given the injuries.”

“Where are we taking her?”

“The safe house in Back of the Yards.”

That was a neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side. I hadn’t seen the house, but I knew its location.

“We’ll make it work,” I promised him. “We’ll get her back.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, a sleek black convertible pulled to the curb in front of the gallery. Theo climbed out, stylish in a gray-checked button-down, dark slacks, and black Oxford-style shoes. His skin was dark brown and his hair was black and short. His somber eyes were wide beneath a strong brow.

At the moment, those eyes looked flat. Presumably, I guessed, because of the woman at the wheel. Detective Gwen Robinson was the Chicago Police Department’s supernatural liaison and generally worked with Ombuds on matters that required more firepower. She was out of uniform tonight, looking gorgeous in an ivory pantsuit that gleamed against her medium brown skin. Tonight her hair was shoulder-length and curly, and pulled back at the sides with small rose-gold clips.