“Captain Edden! Any progress on finding the Free Vampires?”

Another officer had reached us to force a path, but it wasn’t enough. The sound of pixy wings zipped through me, and Jenks darted down.

“Is David okay?” I said as he landed on Trent’s shoulder, and he held up a hand for me to wait, out of breath as he put his hands on his knees and his wings hung flat. We were surrounded by hundreds, but I felt alone. “Is he okay?” I asked again.

“Yeah, but you gotta move,” the pixy panted, and Trent’s brow furrowed, having heard him as well. “He’s got them pinned down, but he’s alone. The pack is at a good old-fashioned Were and vampire riot at the arena. Edden’s men are out, too. Whoever gets there first wins.”

Crap on toast. How was I going to get through this? Trent looked over the crowd, knowing as well as I that we’d never get out of here in time. Finally one of the other officers got to us, face pale as he whispered in Edden’s ear. I watched, alarm pooling in me as Edden’s expression became even grimmer.

“It never rains but that it pours,” Edden grumbled, starting to push his way through again, our pace faster now that we had help. “We lost everyone headed to the coffeehouse. There’s a riot at the arena, which leaves just us. Damn it! We’re going to lose them!”

Frustrated, I took Trent’s arm as someone jostled us. “Rache . . .” Jenks whined, waiting for direction.

One of the reporters saw me holding Trent’s arm and I let go when her eyes lit up. “Mr. Kalamack?” she said, turning her back on Edden and elbowing herself some room. “Tammy Gavin from the Hollows Gazette. Are you and Morgan officially a couple?”

Like flowers to the sun, every single face turned from Edden to us. There was a moment of silence, and then the questions started up again. Trent’s confusion vanished as he put a hand to my shoulder to give me a gentle shove back the way we’d come. “Go,” he said between his unmoving, smiling lips. “I got your back.”

“I got her back, not you,” Jenks said irately.

“What?” I said, and Jenks took off from his shoulder like a shot.

“It’s your job,” Trent said, almost hiding the hint of bitterness as he stepped between me and the crowd. “Go.”

Heart pounding, I edged backward as Trent eased forward, drawing the crowd around me and away. “Tammy, was it?” Trent said brightly. “Ms. Morgan is my security. Who better than a day-walking demon to keep a person safe?”

Jenks was a bright spot of sun in the shade of the building across the blocked-off street, and I took a step back. Trent stood alone surrounded by the cameras and mics, the sun dusty in his hair—and I felt a pang of loss. He’ll be okay, I told myself, but it was harder than I expected to take another step back.

Seeing me slipping away, Edden began to follow me. That is, until Trent turned to the reporters, smiling as he said, “A wave-induced magic misfire took the life of Sa’han Bancroft this morning.” Edden jerked to a horrified halt, and Trent added, “He was attempting to contact the entity we believe is trying to communicate through the wave. He died a hero’s death.”

“Ah, that’s not confirmed,” Edden said, but the reporters loved it.

“Sahhon Bancroft. Is that with one H or two?” a reporter asked.

Trent became solemn. “That’s Sa’han. Capital S, lowercase A, followed by an apostrophe and then lowercase H, A, and N. It’s a nongender-specific elven title commensurate with sir or madam, not a given name. Bancroft was the highest authority in the study of ancient elven religious beliefs, and his wisdom will be sorely missed.”

I was clear of the crowd. Tension vibrated through me as I hitched my bag higher, my head down as I walked for the shadows.

“Then that was elven magic?” Tammy asked, and Edden started waving his hands to get Trent to shut up.

“You know your elven history, Ms. Gavin,” Trent said, beaming.

“Elves have always fascinated me, Mr. Kalamack,” the woman flirted, and I was gone.

The shadow of the building covered me. I felt guilty for leaving Trent behind, but I didn’t look back, striding forward in a near run. Jenks . . . I thought, then caught a sparkle of pixy dust from the traffic control box at the nearest crosswalk. I quickened my pace. He didn’t have to watch for traffic, but I did, and just before I reached the crosswalk, the light suddenly changed.

Horns blew as drivers already distracted and nervous slammed on brakes. There was a sickening crunch of plastic, and I didn’t slow down, crossing the street as someone’s radiator began to leak and the accusations flew. I swung my hair aside as Jenks joined me, wings a satisfied hum. “You just ruined someone’s day.”

“I’ll write them a haiku in apology,” he smart-mouthed back. “Mark has cleared the place out but for David and the two guys he’s got pinned. They’re vamps, all right. Both short, both in military anticharm gear. One’s blond, one’s brown haired. Other than that you guys—”

“All look alike to you, I know.” The potency of his dust spilling over me was easing, but that unfamiliar tingle worried me. God, I hoped my aura wasn’t glowing.

But even as I hustled down the sidewalk toward Junior’s, my thoughts were on Trent, not the probable firefight waiting for me. He’d willingly stayed behind, a distraction so I could do what we both wanted to. Why? I knew this was what he wanted to be.

He said it was my job, I thought, meaning it wasn’t his. He was trying to be who everyone had told him he was—and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it a lot.

Deep in thought, I strode down the empty sidewalk, listening to the thunderous booms of antimagic deterrents and mundane tear gas going off at the arena, my mind on Trent’s anger when Bancroft had said his mother was a poser, his disbelief and anguish that it might be true. And then his shock when he heard the echo of the Goddess in my mind when Bancroft’s magic misfired. I was starting to believe all demons could do elven magic but shunned it on the principle of belief. Al was going to be pissed if he ever found out I’d talked to the Goddess.

I jerked, startled when Jenks flew up in my face. His first flash of annoyance turned into suspicion, and he flew backward as I realized we were almost there. Honestly, why did everything seem to happen at Junior’s? It was almost as if it were a crossroads to a time continuum or something.

“You’d better get your lily-white ass in there,” Jenks said as he flew backward before me. “They’re getting itchy.”

My heart gave a quick pound. Adrenaline was a cool stream behind it, spilling through my muscles and clearing my mind. David needed me, and I wanted to talk to some Free Vampires and find out why they were messing with the undead. Not to mention what in hell they thought they were doing imprisoning mystics.

“Thanks, Jenks,” I said as I yanked the door open and the bells jingled against the glass. His dust was an eager silver as the door closed behind us, sealing us in a shop smelling of spicy Were, angry vampire, and really good coffee. Junior, or Mark, rather, was pale as he stood behind the counter in an uninvoked circle he’d had etched in the floor. Trouble followed me like a puppy, and he knew it. But apart from that, the place was empty. Thank you, Mark. I’d impacted his life enough for him to know the drill.

David stood almost in the middle of the store, and I sauntered to him, surprised that he was in a suit, albeit a rumpled one. The Were was the model alpha with his dark wavy hair slicked back into a ponytail and his face holding a bare hint of stubble. The expensive fabric mirrored his pelt as if he had been on four paws instead of in a pair of designer dress shoes, the black-and-silver smoothness a definite contrast to his hard expression.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said, but never looked from the two men he was holding unmoving at a corner table at the wrong end of a sawed-off shotgun. It was his favorite, a vamp killer. He could hit both of them with the barest shift of barrel at this distance, and though Free Vampires promoted a quick second death, I didn’t think any of them were in a hurry for it. Anyone else would look wrong with the ugly thing tucked atop their arm, but not David.

“What took you so long?” David asked, shifting to make room.

Jenks’s blade was catching dust, making a steady stream fall from the tip in threat. “We ran into the press,” the pixy muttered, clearly still peeved about it.

The black-eyed vampires shifted, and David lifted his gun. Slowly they eased back, hands on the table. I couldn’t help my smile. The confidence needed to stand against two living vampires wasn’t small, and feeling the pheromones tingling over my skin like silk, I wasn’t sure even David would’ve been able to best them if he hadn’t had the power of the focus shimmering just behind his eyes. “Press?” David questioned, and I tapped the nearest line, wishing my splat gun wasn’t covered in sleepy-time charms.

“Trent took care of it,” I said, eyeing the tissue-box-size device in the dark-haired vampire’s grip. Mystics? I wondered, deciding it had to be for the strength he held it with. Two vampires, three of us. It wouldn’t be easy, but we could do this.

“Good,” David said, the slant of his lips catching my attention. I knew he didn’t trust Trent, probably because a possible friend had committed suicide in Trent’s lockup rather than divulge the location of the focus, the same curse now residing happily in David.

I tightened my grip on the nearest ley line and put a foot on a chair, shoving it to a nearby booth. Both vampires jerked, telling me they were versed in the arts of security, not the bedroom—if their uniforms hadn’t given it away. “I wish you’d get off Trent’s case,” I said as I sent the small table to join it. I wanted room to work, and dodging around tables and chairs slowed me down. “He’s not as bad as you think.”

David glanced at me, a weird light in his eye. “You mean he’s not that bad anymore. You probably saved his life, you know.”

“Today?” I blurted, and he shook his head. There was one last chair between us and the two vampires, and they began paying attention when I shoved it to join the others.

“No . . .” David pulled his rifle up to keep them unmoving. “Last year or so. His morals were becoming nebulous. You forced him to make a decision. I wasn’t going to make my generation live through another Kalamack.”

“Seriously?” Jenks said, altitude fluctuating. “Dude, I gotta tell Trent.”

“No you don’t,” I said as I tossed my shoulder bag to land next to the counter, hopefully out of the way. If I was lucky, one of them would try to search it and knock themselves out with the spilled sleepy-time potion. “You. Blondie. Where are the mystics you just stole?” I asked, and the blond vampire’s eyes widened, lips parting to show his sharp canines.

“Shut up,” the other snarled, eyes black as pits.

“Frank, it’s that demon witch!” Blondie said, clearly shaken.

“I said shut up!” he said again, his gaze darting to the windows, and I stood with my feet placed for balance, breathing in the growing scent of angry vampire. Their heavy slacks and long-sleeved shirts were coated with a charm retardant, and their boots were made for running. Military? I wondered, knowing you could get them at any outlet, though I personally wouldn’t trust the anticharm glaze anymore. Their hair, too, was cut close to their skull, and my lips curled. Military vampires were just asking for trouble. They were too pretty for that and often strayed from orders.

“Are they in there?” I said as I looked at the device, and he pulled it closer.

“We will be free of them,” Frank said, his voice taking on the cadence of the misled. “They use us and trade us like dolls.” His head came up, eyes cold with hatred. “They don’t deserve life!”

“You had me until that last one,” I said, fingers moving in a charm to harness the line’s energy into my tingling fingertips. “Look, I understand about wanting to change society, but this isn’t how to do it. You’re hurting people.”

“They killed my sister!” the vampire shouted, and when he stood, I released my spell.

“Dilatare!” I yelled, the ball of light exploding in the light hanging over the table.

Glass shattered. Jenks darted to David, hiding behind him as his rifle blew a hole in the ceiling. Teeth clenched, David leaped at the blond vampire, rifle poised as a club.

“Not the ceiling!” Mark shouted from behind the counter. “Damn it, Rachel! I’m still making payments!”

Dust rained down in a cloudy mix of pixy sparkles. David and the blond vampire were on the floor, crashing into chairs and tables. The other lay dazed, slumped in the booth, and I watched as the device fell from his grip to hit the tile.

“Got it!” I shouted, diving under the table.

Awareness flashed across the dark vampire’s face, and with a savage grin, he dropped down under the table to meet me.

I couldn’t stop. I slid under the table, slamming into him. Thick and heady, his scent struck me, diving deep as I gasped and struggled to pull back from under him. Snarling, he reached for my shoulder, teeth bared. Adrenaline sang, and I kicked wildly at him, my head thumping the bottom of the table as I wedged the device out from under his foot.

“Get off!” I screamed, flooding him with ever-after, and he howled, flinging himself back and hitting the wall.

Scrambling, I tucked the mystics to me. A hand clamped on the back of my shirt and pulled me out. My butt slid on the tiled floor as I spun in a dizzying circle, landing almost in the center of the room again.