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firing dark shards at Beanzilla as if they were fléchettes, but to no better effect than before. One of the creature’s tentacles whipped toward Quietus and wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side. Then it lifted the assassin into the air and waved him around as if eager to show the world its new toy.
    Jinx stopped laughing. “No fair! He’s ours!”
    He let forth a battle cry that sounded like a cross between a dyspeptic Viking heading into battle and a deranged lion that had overdosed on PCP. He ran toward Beanzilla, sledgehammer gripped in both hands.
    Beanzilla turned to meet his advance, and as Jinx leaped into the air, ready to do his best John Henry impression on the monster, two of its tentacles streaked toward him. One caught him in midair and coiled around his midsection, while the other tore the sledgehammer from his grip. The tentacle squeezed, and the sledge’s wooden handle splintered. The tentacle then relaxed its hold, and the pieces of Jinx’s hammer tumbled to the ground.
    Jinx let out a wail of grief. “Cuthbert! Nooooo!”
    Did I mention that Jinx likes to name his weapons?
    Without thinking, I aimed my trancer at Beanzilla and fired, but as I’d anticipated, the last blast had depleted the weapon, and nothing happened. I holstered my trancer, and desperately tried to think of a way that I could – alone and without any weapons – single-handedly bring down a one-hundred-ton monster that had taken out a pair of Incubi without so much as batting one of its nonexistent eyes.
    I thought Beanzilla would attack me next, but evidently it didn’t view me as much of a threat, for it turned and started crab-walking westward. I couldn’t help feeling a trifle insulted by that. So far, with the exception of Jinx’s beloved sledgehammer, Beanzilla hadn’t done any damage, but once it got outside of Millennium Park, it would become a real threat. New York might be known as the city that never sleeps, but Chicago has its fair share of night owls, and those in the vicinity would be easy pickings for Beanzilla.
    I couldn’t let that happen. I started running.
    Beanzilla moved quickly for its size, its legs thudding into the ground one after the other, leaving patches of broken concrete in its wake. My hit of rev was starting to wear off, and my legs felt like they were filled with wet sand. But I ignored the burning in my lungs and cramping leg muscles as I ran to catch up with Beanzilla.
    I had started chasing the ambulatory sculpture before I had even the inkling of a plan, but I guess my subconscious had come up with something, for my hand reached into my jacket pocket and felt three coiled chains. Each was made of a silvery metal and measured eighteen inches when stretched out end to end.
    Of course!
    As I ran, I withdrew one of the chains and touched the two ends together. They fused with an audible snick and the chain snapped into the shape of a solid metal ring.
    Bound as he was in Beanzilla’s coils, Quietus could do nothing but go along for the ride as his monstrous captor hurried to begin its rampage of terror. Jinx’s arms were still free, though, and he used one of his hands to aim his lapel flower. A stream of liquid arced from the flower’s center to strike the surface of the stainless steel tentacle that held him fast. I was too far away to smell anything, but I could hear the faint sizzling sound of acid eating away at the metal. The bastard had switched the pepper juice back to acid! But I told myself I could be mad at him later. Right now, I had a work of art to stop.
    “Jinx!” I shouted. “Catch!”
    I said a quick prayer to the First Dreamer and hurled the silver ring toward Jinx. It spun through the air in an arcing trajectory, and I feared it was going to fall short. But Jinx snatched it out of the air.
    He looked at the ring. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this kind of commitment.”
    I ignored his joke. “Maelstrom energy brought this damn