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“Too easy,” Killian muttered, his stare locked on the van in front of us.

“Stop saying that,” I huffed. “You'll jinx us.”

Star, sprawled in the back of the tiny car we had borrowed from the local human council house, snorted a laugh and smoothed his linen suit. The fabric had been his only concession to Thailand's weather. “You don't believe in jinxes, do you, Ambassador?” he drawled.

“Can it, Sex Monster.” Killian took a corner, his stare sweeping the road. “The adults are on a mission.”

Star chuckled. “By all means. It's not as if I could help you look for—fuck!” He burst upright. “Left!”

I reacted instantly, my hand spearing out the open window toward the left. I hesitated only long enough to locate the target—a large man on a motorcycle—then blasted him with Firethorns. I had a lot of magic at my disposal, but most of it was fatal. And I didn't want to kill anyone without being certain that they needed killing. Especially not on a public street.

Vines appeared out of thin air, winding around the man on the motorcycle in seconds. He cried out as giant thorns pierced his leather jacket, and then his cry turned into a scream as they caught fire. He crashed into a food cart, rolling away from his cycle and over the sidewalk to put out the flames.

“You vicious thing,” Star murmured. “He either burns or stabs himself as he puts out the flames. Gods, you're incredible.”

“Seren!” Killian nodded to the right.

“Allow me.” Star flicked his hand and a flame burst up from the street, hot enough to instantly melt a second motorcycle's tires.

This rider crashed into a tuk-tuk—one of those little three-wheeled open vehicles you find all over Thailand. The tuk-tuk driver was not pleased. He shouted and shook a fist at the man, even as the guy stumbled to his feet.

“Another,” Killian said.

“We got this one, Ambassador,” Extinguisher Tanya Murdock said through the radio set on the car's dash.

The street cracked beneath a third motorcycle rider off to the right but ahead of the van.

“That was the Quaker, not you,” Kill said.

“Kill,” I chided. “She said, 'we.'”

“It's handled,” Murdock said.

I snorted a laugh. “She told you.”

“Not yet, it isn't.” Star looked over his shoulder. “I have to admire their tenacity.”

“It's numbers, not tenacity. Tenacity would be if the ones I struck down got up and started running after us á la Terminator.” I flung more Firethorns at the rider behind us. “How many of them are there?”

“Enough to be annoying.” Star flicked a finger and yet another motorcycle crashed. “Looks as if they weren't taking chances.”

“We good?” Killian flicked his snake stare at the side and then the rearview mirrors.

“I think so. But don't lower your guard.” I scanned the street and crowded sidewalks, ignoring the chaos we left behind.

“I wasn't gonna.” Kill winked at me.

“At least we don't have to circle back for cleanup,” Star said.

“True.” I glanced back at him. “Between the whole Angels getting outed thing and the way Thailand shrugs off the supernatural, I doubt those crashed bikes will raise any eyebrows.”

“You pulled back your thorns, right?” Kill asked.

I gave him the look that deserved.

“Sorry, babe. I know. You've been an ambassador longer than I have.”

“And an extinguisher before that.” I went back to scanning. “But you're right. It never hurts to check.”

“Leaving the city now,” Murdock said.

Instead of being a relief, this was cause for greater vigilance. The road went dark, the forest closing in to form a tunnel. It was the perfect place for an ambush. But then the fog we'd been following trickled back and tucked us in its misty embrace.

“Nicely done, stormtrooper,” Killian said.

“Thank you,” the Storm Witch said through the comm. “And stop calling me that, Ambassador. Or I will start emphasizing the ass in your title.”

All three of us in our car burst out laughing, Killian the hardest.

“Amb-ass-ador!” Killian hooted. “Why have I never thought of that?”