“I wouldn’t miss it.” She steps back, puts her Bowie knife on the ground, hands on top of her head. I keep the Browning aimed at her as I stand. I pick up Gabriela’s machete—she’ll be pissed if I leave it—and put her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Hot blood pours out of the wound in her chest, soaking my shirt and the back of my pants. She’s unconscious, but her breath is a raspy wheeze and I can feel her heart hammering. Punctured lung, massive blood loss, at the very least.

I back out of the factory, reaching behind me with one hand to open the door while balancing Gabriela on my shoulder. Sastre watches as I leave. I stop just outside the doorway, one foot holding it open.

Aw, fuck it. I pop off two shots and bolt, not bothering to see whether I hit anything or not. I round the corner of the building, glancing behind me to see if she’s following or if Q has gotten the ghosts off him, before I shove the Browning into its holster. I get a better grip on Gabriela and run hard for the car. I only hope it’s not too late.

I get Gabriela into the BMW’s passenger seat, shoving the machete next to her. I can’t heal her, but I can keep her from dying. More or less. I drip a couple drops of blood in her mouth and cast a spell that mimics death. It slows her heartbeat way down, cools her metabolism. Stick her in a morgue drawer and you won’t be able to tell the difference. But it only slows down death. It won’t stop it.

I grab my phone in a hand so slick with blood it takes me three tries to dial the warehouse. I tell the guy who answers that they need to get Vivian to the warehouse right fucking now or their precious Bruja’s going to bleed out in this car. I hang up without waiting for an answer and stomp on the gas.

I’m weaving through thinning traffic on surface streets, blowing through stop lights at a hundred and twenty, when the first cops show up behind me. I don’t have time for this shit. I dig one hand through my messenger bag until it snags on the thing I’m looking for, a small mirrored globe about the size of a golf ball.

I put my hand out the window and squeeze the globe until it pops. A blast of light fills the air. My left eye goes blind. My vision will come back in a minute, but in the meantime, I’m driving one-eyed past cars that suddenly can’t see me anymore.