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People banged on the hood, yelled, calling the Door Master names.

Westvane lost his temper. Hopping up, he planted his feet on the window ledge. Baring his canines, he snarled at the offenders.

A collective gasp rose, riding thick autumn chill.

Humans recoiled, then scattered.

Truly sighed. “Subtle, Westvane. Real slick.”

“Now, Truly.”

Listening for once, she drove through the hole. Two tires up on the sidewalk, two rolling on asphalt, she wheeled onto the side street. A few stragglers jumped out of the way. The group shouted at her. She accelerated. The engine rumbled. More yelling. Truly didn’t slow down. She gunned it instead, speeding toward two pillars near the end of the narrow avenue.

Worried about getting hit, Westvane shifted onto the rooftop. Steel dimpled beneath his feet as she drove between the uprights.

Concrete grazed both sides of the car. Metal screeched. Sparks flew.

Truly roared around the next corner. The back end swung out. The car rocked and lurched forward. The smell of burnt rubber on asphalt and the faint tang of smoke wafted into the air. Westvane jumped into the truck bed behind the driver’s seat, and hitting his haunches, hung on as Truly swung the vehicle into a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

The back end whipped around.

The car slid sideways, then came to an abrupt stop. Momentum threw him backward. He landed on his ass next to the tailgate.

Grunting in discomfort, Westvane looked over the side of the car. Both tires an inch from the curb. In perfect parallel. Westvane stared at the concrete lip. Incredible. Certifiable. One-hundred-percent crazy. She’d brought the vehicle to a screeching stop between two parked cars.

The driver’s door swung open.

Truly stuck her head out and grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

He scowled. “Next time, I’m driving.”

Exciting the car, she slammed the door behind her. Hinges shrieked. She leveled her blue eyes on him. “Try it. See what happens.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, stealing one of her favorite words as he hopped out of the back. His boots touched down on concrete. Tipping his head back, he breathed deep. Cold air filled his lungs. The scent of oranges and ash tickled his senses. “The Wendigo’s here.”

“You can smell it?”

“It’s faint, but the beast is with the crowd. East of here.”

“Closer to downtown,” she said, gazing up at the buildings surrounding them. “We’ll keep to the side streets, walk a parallel route, stay out of the crowds.”

“Don’t trust me?”

She pursed her lips, twisting them to the side. The look in her eyes, the expression on her face, shoutedno. Wise of her. He refused to be contained. Or bossed around by a stubborn Door Master, no matter how powerful her magic.

“From what Earl said, the protest is in and around Rittenhouse Square.”

Predatory interest rose, then narrowed. “Rittenhouse?”

“It’s a park in Center City. An historical district.” Raising a brow, she glanced at him sideways. “Wouldn’t hurt to have eyes in the sky. Is Eastbrook around?”

At the mention of his name, the raven blinked his eyes, making his skin sting. Boots planted on the sidewalk, Westvane stayed silent and waited. Eastbrook’s choice. Weeping Hollow had nearly eaten the bird right off the side of his throat. He wouldn’t blame his feathered friend if he decided to sit this one out, instead of entering the fray.

The itch on the side of his neck intensified.

Westvane breathed deep. Magic burned in his veins as ink swirled across his neck. Soft plumage brushed his cheek. With a low caw, Eastbrook materialized fully formed, sharp talons curved around his shoulder.

“Hello, handsome,” Truly said, smiling at the raven.