It hit hard too. Like a Mack truck without brakes hurtling down a San Francisco street, a wave of force smashed into me. I went blind from the pain, my thoughts scattered about my mind like so much detritus. I flew backwards, crashing through the metal shelves. I felt the first couple as they snapped, banging against my head and shoulders, but the third, fourth, and fifth were just a vague blip on my pain radar. The sixth and seventh didn’t even register. I also didn’t notice when I’d hit the ground nearly forty yards from where I’d been struck. I did kinda feel the nearest shelves topple down on me, but just barely. Good thing they weren’t too heavy. I pushed them off and sat up, suddenly noticing the spreading stain of blood across my hips and crotch. My head clouded by the impact, I frantically checked for wounds. There were none. I checked again, feeling myself up as I wondered how I could be bleeding yet not injured. It took me a second, but the light came on, however dimly.

The vial. The fall had broken the tube of Lucifer’s blood. Just great.

Now contaminated, the quickly drying blood was useless the minute it was free of the vial. My ace in the hole was nothing more than an embarrassing menstrual stain on the front of my pants. Knowing how little of the precious fluid I had left, I almost cried. The sound of a bullet bouncing off the shelf behind me caught me mid-sniff and reminded me I wasn’t alone. I shook my head, trying to rid it of the cobwebs. They didn’t seem all that interested in leaving, but I didn’t have time to argue. I had to move.

I crawled to my feet, my bruised and battered body complaining the whole time, the nerves coming back to life. I saw Mario working his way toward me through the wreckage, McConnell at his back. The light in the room had faded, but I couldn’t tell whether the illumination spell had ended or it was just my eyes. I figured I’d worry about that later. I raised my gun to take Page 63 a shot and realized my hand was empty.