I nodded, then slipped the ring off my right index finger and passed that over to him too. Then came the final, most difficult thing—unhooking the necklace from around my throat.
I pulled the chain out from underneath my T-shirt and held it out, staring at the spider rune pendant—that small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. The symbol for patience. Something I needed right now more than ever before.
I wrapped my hand around the rune, pressing it against the matching scar embedded deep in my palm. The slight weight comforted me, as did the cold, solid sensation of my Ice and Stone magic rippling through the smooth surface of the metal, waiting to be used. But that was why I was leaving the ring and the necklace with Silvio. They contained far too much of my power to let them fall into the wrong hands should things go from bad to worse inside the station, the way I suspected they were going to. If the cops did arrest me, they’d take everything away from me. Madeline had already closed down the Pork Pit. She wasn’t getting my jewelry too. It was far too precious to me, and not just for the power it contained.
“Would you like me to take that as well?” Silvio asked.
For a moment, I curled my hand even tighter around my rune. Then I forced myself to nod, let go, and hand the necklace over to him.
We got out of the car. I stood watch, scanning the parking lot for any sign of Madeline’s spies, while Silvio opened the trunk and secured my weapons and jewelry. I felt naked, exposed, and vulnerable without the slight, comforting weight of my knives resting on my body and sad, empty, and lost without the feel of my ring and necklace and their reserves of Ice and Stone magic humming against my skin.
I was a strong elemental, but I didn’t know if I could overcome Madeline’s acid power without my knives or extra reserves of magic, all of which I’d just willingly stripped away. But Sophia was in trouble and needed my help, which she wouldn’t get with my lollygagging around in the parking lot. So I drew in a breath and headed for the station, with Silvio shutting the trunk, locking the car, and falling in step beside me.
* * *
The inside of the police station was much nicer than what you would expect. Then again, the po-po could afford to keep everything in tip-top shape, given all the bribes they accepted. A narrow corridor ran for about fifty feet before opening up into the enormous room that was the bureaucratic heart of the station. The floor and walls were made out of beautiful gray marble with silver flecks running through it, while the diamond-shaped panes in the tall, wide windows were so clean they almost appeared transparent. Crystal and brass chandeliers dropped down from the vaulted ceiling, which soared a hundred feet overhead and also featured mosaic flowers carved out of pale rose quartz. The only things that ruined the elegance of the room were the security cameras mounted to the walls, their red lights winking on and off like devilish fireflies as they swiveled around in slow, steady circles.
A brass plaque embedded in one of the columns near the entrance boasted that the interior had been restored to its original grandeur with the help of the Ashland Historical Association. Captain Lou Dobson’s name was on the plaque too; he was listed as the liaison between the department and the historical association. Well, I supposed that explained how he’d help Madeline sic the group on Jo-Jo. All he would have had to do was make a couple of phone calls and cash in some favors.
Silvio and I passed through a metal detector at the end of the corridor while a bored-looking uniformed officer ran Silvio’s briefcase through the X-ray scanner. Dobson must not have had time to put the word out to be on the lookout for me because the officer waved us through without a second glance.
“Let’s go over to booking,” Silvio said after he’d retrieved his briefcase. “That’s where Sophia will most likely be.”
I nodded and followed him out into the main part of the station.
Silvio must have spent more time bailing out Benson’s drug dealers than I’d thought because he moved through the station with ease, navigating around lines of people and roped off sections as though he’d long ago memorized where the clogged trouble spots were. Even more telling, several officers waved and called out friendly greetings to the slender vampire.
Silvio nodded back, stopping a few times to speak with those he knew well. I tagged along behind him, feeling like the proverbial third wheel, but I trusted Silvio enough to realize that if he was taking the time to talk to someone, then he was most likely trying to get more information about Dobson and what the captain’s plans might be for Sophia—and me.
Finally, we reached the back of the room, where dozens of desks clustered in bunches, all of them sleek chrome contraptions covered with computers, monitors, and ringing phones. Detectives wearing suits and ties sprawled in their executive, leather chairs, gabbing on their phones, while others milled around the espresso machines that lined one section of the wall, along with wooden tables that boasted platters of fresh fruit, buttery croissants, and a dozen different kinds of Danishes. I snorted. No bad coffee and stale doughnuts here. The po-po had a better spread than most of the corporate climbers in the downtown skyscrapers.
Still, it wasn’t all strawberries and shortcakes. Uniformed officers moved back and forth in front of the detectives’ desks, carrying files, murmuring into their radios, and escorting some unhappy-looking individuals from one side of the station to the other. Three vampire hookers slumped on a wooden bench next to the espresso machines, their skirts riding up and their tops drooping down, showing inordinate amounts of leg and cleavage as they waited to be booked. An archway cut into the wall a few feet away led into another room that featured a fingerprint station, a camera, and a height chart for mug shots.
Sophia was sitting at the end of the bench, looking calm and unruffled, despite the handcuffs that were still cinched around her wrists. The same couldn’t be said for the hookers, who eyed her with obvious curiosity.
“Boo,” Sophia rasped, causing the hooker closest to her to shriek and almost fall off the bench.
One of the many knots of tension in my chest loosened at the knowledge that Sophia was okay. Silvio went over to the officer in charge to see what he could do to help her, but I scanned the room, looking for Dobson.
It didn’t take me long to find the giant. The second I spotted him, my chest knotted right back up again because he was standing next to a pair of desks, along with two familiar figures. One of them was a woman, about my size, with shaggy blond hair and blue eyes. The other was a giant, around seven feet tall with thick muscles, ebony skin, and a pair of aviator sunglasses that had been propped up on top of his shaved head. My baby sister, Detective Bria Coolidge, and her partner, Xavier, who was also Roslyn’s significant other.