Free Fool's Gold by Jaye Wells Page B

horrible sounds and the unsettling scents.
    A gaunt figure huddled over the prone form of a woman. Wet, stringy hair shielded her face, and every inch of her exposed skin glistened red with blood. My gun was in my hand faster than I could yell, “Freeze!”
    Still partially in shadow, the attacker—male judging from the size—swung around. I had the impression of glinty yellow eyes and shaggy hair matted with blood.
    â€œStep away with your hands up,” I commanded, my voice projected to make it a demand instead of a suggestion.
    â€œFuck you, bitch,” the male barked. And then he bolted.
    â€œShit!” I ran to the woman and felt for a pulse. I shouldn’t have been relieved not to find one, but it meant I was free to pursue the asshole who’d killed her.
    My leg muscles burned and my heart raced. Through the radio on my shoulder I called dispatch.
    â€œGo ahead, Officer Prospero,” the dispatcher’s voice crackled through the radio.
    â€œBe advised I need an ambulance sent to the alley off Canal and Elm. Interrupted a code 27. Victim had no pulse. I’m pursuing the perp on foot bearing east on Canal.”
    â€œAmbulance is on its way. Backup unit will be there in five minutes. Keep us advised of your 20.”
    â€œ10-4.” I took my finger off the comm button. “Shit, he’s fast.” I dug in, my air coming out in puffs of vapor in the cool night air.
    He was definitely freaking—a strength or speed potion, probably. But that type of magic wouldn’t explain why he mauled that woman in the alley—or those yellow predator’s eyes. I tucked that away for the moment and focused on keeping up.
    The perp loped through the maze of dark alleys and streets like he knew the Cauldron well. But no one knew it better than me, and I planned to be right behind him when he finally made a mistake.
    As I ran, my lead cuffs clanked heavily against the wood of my nightstick. The rhythm matched the thumping beats of my heart and the puffs of air rasping from my lungs. I had a Glock at my side, but when perps are jacked up on potions, they’re almost unstoppable with Mundane weaponry unless you deliver a fatal shot. Killing him wasn’t my goal—I wanted the notch on my arrest stats.
    â€œStop or I’ll salt you!” I pulled the salt flare from my left side. The best way to incapacitate a hexhead was a little of the old sodium chloride.
    A loud snarling grunt echoed back over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, but he wasn’t running blind. No, he was headed someplace specific.
    â€œProspero,” Dispatch called through the walkie. “Backup is on its way.”
    â€œCopy. The vic?”
    â€œAmbulance arrived and confirmed death. M.E. is on his way to make it official.”
    I looked around to get my bearings. He veered right on Mercury St. “The suspect appears to be headed for the Arteries,” I spoke into the communicator. “I’m pursuing.”
    â€œCopy that, Officer Prospero. Be advised you are required to wait for backup before entering the tunnels.” She told me their coordinates.
    I cursed under my breath. They were still five blocks away and on foot.
    A block or so up I could see one of the boarded-up gates that led down into the old subway tunnels. The system had been abandoned fifty years earlier before the project was anywhere close to completion. Now the tunnels served as a rabbit warren for potion addicts wanting to chase the black dragon in the rat-infested, shit-stench darkness.
    In front of the gate, a large wooden sign announced the site as the “Future Home of the Cauldron Community Center.” Under those words was the logo for Volos Real Estate Development, which did nothing to improve my mood.
    If Speedy made it through that gate, we’d never find him. The tunnels would swallow him in one gulp. My conscience suddenly sounded a lot like Captain Eldritch in my head.