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Travis grabbed her hand—the one that was pressed against her throat—and laced his fingers with hers. “Let’s get in the car.” He tugged her into motion. “Come on, hurry.”

They crossed the lot hand in hand, their footfall clapping through a parking lot that suddenly looked darker than before. Travis used his Sight to ensure no stragglers were left alive as he brought Jewels to her door, helping her in. With one more sweep of the parking lot, he rounded the car and got in his side.

Once he was in the car, door shut, protective spells rippling into place, he allowed himself another few seconds to slow his heart. But he found it sprinting anew as his mind drifted to the reason why those men had come here tonight—and who else might be a target.

Travis’s eyes landed on Jewels at the same moment hers landed on him. And when Travis spoke, she spoke too.

But while Travis uttered the name ‘Lacey’, Jewels said another.

“Malakai.”

Malakai was just leaving the Umbra Forum when his phone buzzed in his back pocket.

He’d come here alone after dropping Aspen off at the House of Souls. He’d hesitated to tell her that he was itching for some Venom, but he’d admitted it anyway. She already knew he had a drug problem—she lived with him, for gods’ sake—so there was no point in lying. Besides, if he was going to pursue Asp, he wanted to do it right—no lies, no secrets. He’d made enough mistakes in his life, and he refused to allow a woman like Aspen to be another.

The name JEWELY BEAN flashed across Malakai’s screen.

He answered and lifted the phone to his ear. “You miss me?”

“Malakai, we need help!” The panic in his little sister’s voice sent an icy prickle up his spine.

Malakai quickened his pace; the bike was parked up ahead. “What the hell’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Travis and I were attacked. We’re fine, but—” She was panting. “We need you to go find Arthur.”

“The old fucker? Why? And where?”

“We believe he could be a target, too. We’re on our way to Lacey—”

“Wait, wait—you want me to go save Arthur’s ass, and not come to you?”

“Malakai, we need him—you need to help him! Please.”

Malakai growled. “Fine. But be careful, got it?”

“I will—”

“Wait, wait, where is he? Arthur.”

Travis’s voice drifted through the background. “Witchlight Alchemy and Archives.”

Malakai hung up and got on his bike. He started it and hit the accelerator, heading for Angelthene’s downtown core.

He pushed the bike to its limit, weaving in and out of traffic and blasting through yellow lights. As he neared the district where he’d find Witchlight, he blinked his Sight into his vision, guided only by the glow of spells on the buildings, vehicles, and streets.

There was a mass of raw magic up ahead. It was underground—barely visible through the spells. Anyone other than a Darkslayer, and they wouldn’t have been able to see it.

It was a bomb.

Malakai sped up, taking his chances as he zipped through a red light. Trucks and cars swerved; one crashed into a telephone pole.

He parked a block away—out of the path of the bomb, if it were to blow before he got out of Witchlight. He got off the bike and ran.

Gunshots cracked through the night.

Malakai ducked, the window of a car to his left exploding. “Motherfucker, they want me dead too?!”

Another shot popped through the night. A street light shattered.