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Too late, I sent back.Stuck in it in the car with my parents.

Nobody wanted to say anything, although I could tell both my parents and Taavi were clearly upset. It was a few more minutes creeping through traffic before we passed the blocked-off intersection with Green Bay Street, which is what we’d normally use to get home. Not today.

“I’m just going to go up to Lake and over,” my father said. Mom just nodded. It took us well out of our way, but nobody wanted to suggest staying on this side of the river.

Smith texted back.Get out of here. It’s getting ugly.

We’re trying, I sent him. Then, because I kinda liked the guy, I sent another one.Be safe.

There was an uptick in the sound outside, and Taavi twitched.

I turned my hand over to lace our fingers together.

Everybody flinched when a chunk of something hard smashed into the side window next to me. The window cracked in a rather spectacular starburst pattern, but it didn’t break.

Yet. Another one or two, and I was going to have safety glass in my lap.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hissed.

Taavi let out a small whine in the back of his throat, his hand tightening in mine. Then I winced and pulled my hand back, staring at the pinpricks on my skin where hisclawshad drawn blood.

When I looked up at him, his expression was absolutely horrified, and he immediately jerked his hands—claw-tipped, like they had been that day at Elliot’s house when he’d forced Elliot to back down—back to his chest.

I didn’t want to say anything in front of my parents, both because I didn’t think Taavi would want me toandbecause I didn’t want my parents losing their shit, so I just reached out and re-grabbed one of his hands, instead.

He tried to resist me at first, but I’m far more stubborn than he is, and he finally gave in, letting me wrap his hand in both of mine. But he kept his fingers curled inward. I let him—as long as I could hold his hand, he could keep his fingers curled in if it made him feel better.

“Marshall, drive faster!” my mother ordered.

How he was supposed to do that, I didn’t know. Both lanes of Main Street were blocked in, and the parking lane to either side was also solid cars, so you couldn’t just pull around. Christmas shoppers, maybe. Or protestors. Honestly, probably protestors.

“I’m going as fast as I can, Jude,” my father replied in a surprisingly even tone, although his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

A second object impacted the window, leaving another starburst pattern. I closed my hands tighter around Taavi’s when he jerked as though to pull away.

“Marshall, goaround,” my mother insisted.

“There’s a truck there, Judy,” my father argued.

The third one, by some fucking miracle, missed the window, bouncing off the body panel next to my head.

That was apparently enough for my dad, who laid on the horn and inched closer to the car in front of him. Which did pretty much nothing other than piss off the cars around him, who also started honking.

I chanced a glance through the shattered glass—still in its pane, although it wasn’t easy to see through all the spiderwebbing—to see if I could spot the rock-thrower.

It didn’t take me long.

It’s kind of hard not to spot the asshole sporting an actual Magic-Free Movement t-shirt—I didn’t know those fuckers evenhadt-shirts—and holding a chunk of curb.

I briefly contemplated opening the door and going after the dickbag, but that would probably end very badly for me, both because Dickbag undoubtedly had friends, and because if they didn’t kill me, Taavi abso-fucking-lutely would. Also, I’m not a cop anymore, so it wasn’t even like I coulddoanything if I did get out of the car other than pick a fight.

God-fucking-damnit.

I jerked back as the chunk of curb came flying at the window, and this time itdidsmash through, bringing sticky little bits of safety glass and cold, slushy water with it. It bounced off the seat between Taavi and I—I’d let go of him when I saw Dickbag throw it—and hit the floor between us.

Mom screamed, Dad yelled something about calling 9-11, and Taavi bared his teeth—teeth that were so very not human anymore. Neither was his nose, for that matter, as it was sharpening and darkening.

“Taavi Camal, don’t you dare.”