“He okay?” Cobb grunted softly as he got to his feet.
“He’s alive,” I said.
“I’m going after them.” Cobb stumbled into the hall, his phone light casting shadows on the gaping opening.
I pulled my phone out and switched on the flashlight. “Hunter, please wake up. I need you. I’m sorry for being such a git. Please, please wake up.”
Hunter’s chest rose sharply at an intake of breath. His eyelids fluttered as my hand stroked his cheek. He sighed.
“Say please one more time, would you?”
I huffed out a relieved noise. “You’re okay.”
Hunter’s eyes opened to stare at me and then the room. “Yeah. No. It’s… Where am I?”
“You took a knock on the head. Please take it easy.”
He held out a hand, and I helped him sit up. He clutched his head and moaned.
“Can you stand?” I snaked an arm around his waist, his arm over my shoulder. Together, we rose and shuffled through the fractured wall and down the hall. Cobb was at the top of the stairs, his flashlight scanning the bottom floor. My light showed a trickle of blood down the big man’s temple.
“I told you to wait for me,” he said to Hunter. “I ran into an asshole in the alley—their driver. He clocked me over the head.” Cobb scowled even deeper as he turned away talking into his phone.
I spoke to his back. “We need to get Hunter to a hospital.”
Hunter mumbled. “No hospital.” He leaned more heavily on my arm. “I’m fine.”
Cobb ended his call to dispatch. “I’ll call Ziggy to come look at him. I called in a BOLO for a dark Mercedes with two armed men and possible elder abduction.” He moved to Hunter’s other side, propping him up easily. Dialing his phone one-handed, he asked Ziggy to meet us at my flat. “Where’s the ghost?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He disappeared when everything went to shit.” I shined my flashlight around. “Nigel?” I called. “Nigel. Are you here?”
“He ain’t here.” Kenny, the maintenance guy, emerged in a pair of greasy coveralls, carrying a big industrial flashlight. “I was in the boiler room. Power went out. I’m gonna check the breakers.” He left again.
Cobb looked at me. “He a ghost too?”
“No, he’s real, I mean, not undead.”
“This whole place is hinky.”
“Let’s get Hunter to my apartment and regroup. Thanks for coming, Detective.” We hustled Hunter out to Cobb’s SUV. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of failure. We’d survived, but Nigel was lost, and Julian Eskridge got what he wanted. The necromancer.
Ziggy arrived at the apartment not long after we got there. She looked around, gave Cobb a brief hug, and went to check Hunter out.
I offered Cobb a seat and broke out the whiskey, handing him a glass. He mumbled a thanks and said, “The gun not firing, was that something the old man did?”
I looked over at Hunter, remembering his concentration over the sigils. “Warding. Not as sophisticated as the warehouse gym or Pinkie’s but enough to keep firearms out of play. Hunter’s idea.”
Ziggy shined a penlight into Hunter’s eyes, her voice low as she asked him questions. I took my whiskey into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. It was a habit by now, and I thought Hunter could use something warm and comforting. I didn’t think alcohol helped with head injuries.
“They busted in the side door. It was wide open when I got there.” Cobb sighed. I ran a clean cloth under the faucet and gave it to him for his head wound.
“It’s lucky you weren’t shot,” Ziggy scolded.
My whiskey downed, I sat on the coffee table, facing Hunter. “Hey mate, would you drink some tea?”
He glanced at me and then managed a tiny shake of his head.
Ziggy pulled me aside. “Physically, he seems fine, but I’d like to take him to get an MRI. His lack of verbal response is worrying.”
