as you can. I think you can get in."
"You think?" I asked. "What if you're wrong?"
He gave me an annoyed look. "You don't see me telling you how to watch that goddamned doorway in case all the vampires show up at any second to kill us, do you?" Kincaid asked.
I was going to scowl at him, but he had a point. I scowled at the darkness instead, gripping Murphy's gun. I fumbled for a second, because the riot gun must have been some kind of military-issue, and it took me a second to find the safety. I flicked it to reveal the red dot. Or at least I was thought it was red. The green chemical light made it look black.
"Stop," Kincaid said in a calm voice. "Unclench."
"Unclench what?" Murphy demanded.
"Unclench your ass."
"Excuse me?"
"You're going to trip the beam. You need another quarter inch. Relax."
"I am relaxed," Murphy growled.
"Oh," Kincaid said. "Damn, great ass then. Take off your pants."
I winced and checked over my shoulder. Murphy was stretched out on the floor on her belly, her cheek on the cold floor, arms stretched above her. The small of her back was in the doorway. She managed to move her head just enough to eye Kincaid. "Once again?"
"Take off your pants," Kincaid said, smiling. "Think of the children."
She muttered something to herself and moved her arms, shifting slightly.
"No good," Kincaid said. "You're moving too far."
"Okay, genius," Murphy said. "What do I do?"
"Hold still," Kincaid said. "I'll do it."
There was silence for a second. Murphy hissed out a breath. Or maybe it was more of a gasp.
"I don't bite," he said. "Be still. I want to live through this."
"Okay," Murphy said in a small voice a moment later.
I scowled hard at the darkness and felt myself getting irrationally angry, and fast. I glanced back again. Murphy wriggled forward, all the way through the doorway. Her legs were pale, pretty, and strong. And I had to admit that Kincaid was completely correct about her posterior.
Kincaid was bracing her legs, hands on her calves and sliding down as she moved forward, helping her to keep them from accidentally moving too far. Or at least that damn well better have been what he was doing, because if it wasn't I would be forced to kill him.
I shook my head and returned to my vigil. Get a grip, Harry, I thought to myself. It isn't like you and Murphy are an item. She isn't something you own. She's her own person. She does what she wants with who she wants. You're not even involved with her. You've got no say in it.
I ran through those thoughts a couple of times, found them impeccably logical, morally unassailable, and still wanted to slug Kincaid. Which implied all kinds of things I didn't have time to think about.
I heard them speaking quietly to each other a moment later. Murphy was describing the explosive, and Kincaid was giving her instructions.
In the darkness beyond the last chemical light, I heard something move.
I shifted my weight, reaching into my belt pouch for my own chemical light sticks. I pressed them against the floor to break the layer separating the two chemicals and shook them until they started to emit their own soft green fire. I threw them down the hall, where they landed in the room beyond. The lights revealed little beyond more stone floor and some drywall. Bob had reported that the room was essentially a storage chamber, with several smaller chambers defined by recently installed drywall that could be used for storage, emergency shelters during the odd tornado warning, or additional rooms for those in need of a place to spend the night. But all I could see was half of a door, a couple of stacks of cardboard boxes, a dressmaker's dummy, and the glowing sticks of emerald light.
And then something large and four-legged moved in front of one of the lights for a second or two. The dark-hound was a large and rangy animal, maybe a large Alsatian, and it deliberately stayed in place for a moment before vanishing into the shadows once more.
I kept the riot gun aimed down the hall and wished that Inari hadn't broken my damned blasting rod. I would far rather have had it than the gun. Without the blasting rod to help me focus and contain the destructive energies of flame I preferred, I didn't dare start blasting away at the bad guys with magic, especially in such tight quarters as the