Stagger Lee gave the hose back. The Vamp took it in both hands and stuck it in his mouth. The red stuff dribbled down his front.
Patrise said, "Grossly unsanitary, madam, I'm sure you'll agree. I'm afraid we'll have to file a formal complaint."
"Complaint?" the Ellyll woman said, still stuck between anger and puzzlement. Then she drew herself up straight, and her hair seemed to crackle and spark. She threw down the clipboard and brought up the pistol. "Why don't you complain about this, asshole?"
To one side, windows near the roof crashed in. Glass and cardboard fell away, and the tall woman Danny had seen earlier stepped onto the high platform, holding a tommy gun. She was flanked by two bulky men wielding axes. %
The woman fired, a long spit of yellow flame and a noise like a chainsaw. There were little explosions from the crates below the elf's boots; splinters of glass flew, and the red stuff bled from the crates. The elf shrieked something, not in English, ran to the back of the warehouse and dove out of sight.
"Lincoln," Patrise said, and McCain's Colts were instantly in his fists. He fired once, and the tank of blood exploded. All around the room, the workers' heads came up, scenting the air. They converged on the puddling fluid.
"Hallow," Patrise said, "you and Lincoln clear the area. Ladies and gentlemen, let's file our complaint."
Danny and McCain rounded up the kids from the bottling line. They didn't respond to speech, but followed numbly when herded along. McCain led the way to the street: a canvas-covered truck had pulled up before the door. Cloudhunter got out of the passenger seat, swinging his shotgun. The Vamps let themselves be loaded aboard, and the driver took off.
Danny said to McCain, "What was that? Withdrawal?"
"Outsider's Disease. Sometimes they turn nasty-Loop Garous. But they don't use the violent cases for work like this."
Back inside, the gunner and axmen had come down to ground level, and the other man had produced a crowbar and sledgehammer from under his coat. Stagger Lee was examining the machinery.
"Here," he said, and the hammer struck once hard; a whole section of the assembly line collapsed.
Cloudhunter handed his gun to Patrise, who said, "Thank you, Cloud," and began firing into the crates, smashing more glass, sending up sprays of fluid. He handed the gun back, and Cloudhunter reloaded it, as the axmen continued the job. Stagger Lee had strapped on a dust mask and taken some canisters from his bag. He began spreading powder over a pile of cardboard crates and wooden pallets.
There was a crash from the rear of the warehouse, then a movement: a figure in red and black, running straight at them, at Patrise. Cloudhunter took a step, leveled his shotgun: it clicked. He let it go and raised his empty hands. There was a blinding sweep of light, a clunk as the shotgun hit the concrete floor, and a yelp like a hurt animal. The running figure fell down.
Cloudhunter suddenly had his long jeweled knife out, and in front of him lay another of the Vamps, wrapped in the elf-woman's jacket, his head nearly severed.
"Loop Garou," McCain muttered to Danny. "Everybody's got a job to do."
The Ellyll woman, in a white shirt, appeared from around a corner and fired. Cloudhunter jerked, doubled over. McCain's pistol was out then: he fired twice, the woman screamed, and then the Colt jammed. McCain started walking forward, clearing the jam, ditching the magazine and slamming in another. But the woman had disappeared again.
"Cloud," Mr. Patrise said, and woke Danny up. He dashed to Cloudhunter's side, unslinging his bag. The elf was in a half-crouch, right arm pressed to his chest, left hand still holding the knife at guard. "Can you sit?" Danny said. "Here, lean against this."
Cloudhunter had taken the hit in the upper left chest, just below the collarbone. He was still bleeding freely. One of Damn's books said that the elf vascular system was close to human. Aorta? Not a direct hit, or Cloudhunter wouldn't have been standing, and there was no arterial spurt.
Danny got Cloud's jacket open, cut awav his shirt. Cloudhunter's neck scarf was wrapped around his upper chest It was a hard silk, blue with points of light in it. Danny couldn't find a tear, and no blood seemed to have soaked into it; it was driven in A memory floated up, something about silk in wounds. The Mongols, that was it. They had worn tightly woven silk shirts. Arrows didn't tear the silk; they would still make wounds, but a tug on the fabric would bring the arrow out clean.
It would be worth a try-later, when they weren't under fire. "I'm going to dress this just as it is for now," he told Cloudhunter. "If I try to get the bullet out now, you might start bleeding. That wouldn't be good, here." At the edge of his vision, Danny saw some of the Outsider's workers shuffling about. Yeah, he thought, /'/ sure wouldn't. He pulled out the bandaging supplies, and a pair of angled scissors to cut away the excess silk.
"Don't try to cut that," he heard Patrise say. Danny looked up, then felt the metal spring apart in his hand. The hinge rivet was sheared, and the lower blade clattered to the concrete floor.
"I guess not," Danny said.
Mr. Patrise said, "Don't worry about that now. You're doing very well. Please proceed."
Danny said to Cloudhunter, "I'm going to pin up your arm. You need to move as little as possible until I can see to it at the house. Okay?"
"Yes," Cloudhunter said. His voice was thin and tight.
Danny reached to the bag, loaded a morphine cartridge into the hypo carrier. "And something for the pain."
Cloudhunter said, "No."
Danny hesitated. He could see the stress on the elf's face, in his eyes. "Yes," he said. "Just for the pain. I won't knock you out."
"It's all right, Cloud," Patrise said, bending down. "We're almost finished here."
Cloudhunter nodded. Danny gave the shot. "Thank you," the elf said softly.
Patrise said, "Rudy, Katherine, bag detail and follow with Stagger Lee. Where's Sam?"
"Went with Line," one of the others said, and indicated the back of the warehouse.
Mr. Patrise tapped his stick. "Hallow, can you follow them carefully?"
"I've been in fires."
"But not firefights, I think," Mr. Patrise said. "However, you are no longer needed here, and you may be there. Go on."
Danny gathered up his kit and moved toward the back of the warehouse. There were crates of empty bottles, coils of tubing, crates of God knew what. Through a doorway he saw a doctor's examining table with an IV arm board. That would be where the supply came from. There had been at least a couple of quarts in the glass tank. Losing two quarts of blood was fatal, if you were human. Maybe they pooled it. Or He felt a cold breeze. To his right a few steps was an open door. He looked through. There was an empty lot beyond, and in the distance a low stone wall, some trees beyond. He clenched his fingers on his bag and walked through the doorway.
"Dance with me, mister?" a woman's voice said, right in Danny's ear.
His spine froze and he tensed for a bullet or a blow, but there was just an instant of silence, and then the voice again: "I've gotta go home soon, but I'd really like one more dance. You look like a nice fella. Please?"
Danny turned. A girl was standing just a few steps from him, wearing a long beaded dress that sparkled in the moonlight. She held out her hands. "Come on, mister. Just one more. Before they miss me at home."
Danny heard a grunt from behind. He turned. The wounded elf-woman lurched out of the doorway, toward him. Danny ducked to one side; his foot hit something and he lost his balance, tumbling over as the woman just brushed by him.
"Yes, you'll do," the girl's voice said. "Let's dance."
Danny struggled to get up; his foot was caught in a root or cable of some kind. A hand touched his shoulder, and he twitched. "Take it easy, Doc," McCain said, and helped Danny stand. He pointed a finger. "You find her like that, or did you take her down?"