Page 47

Laz laughed. “Excellent.”

“Here we go,” Laz said.

They bumped the back of the vehicle with a screech. A goblin threw his head out of the side of the car and hefted a gun up. George veered to avoid him. Kierse glimpsed Schwartz in the driver’s seat, his eyes straight ahead.

Right. Stop them. Don’t kill the security detail.

“I’ve got this one,” Kierse said.

She climbed all the way out of the window and clung to the side of the limo, waiting for George to draw into position.

Then with all the force of her new abilities, she jumped from the car.

Time slowed as if she’d switched into slow motion, though she hadn’t.

Her body hung in the air with her arms outstretched for her landing.

On an exhale, she collided with the back of the armored vehicle.

Her free hand grabbed the back handle, and her bare feet skidded across the ridged tailgate.

She winced as the rest of her collided against the back door with a thud.

“Fuck,” she spat.

Her feet slipped out from under her, and she dangled from one arm off the back of the car. She could feel the heat of the asphalt under her feet. For a second, she thought that she was going to lose her grip and fall.

She scrambled to regain purchase and hoisted herself back up. With a breath, she shook the locked door handle that had just saved her life. No give.

A thump on the roof told her that she wasn’t alone and she needed to hurry.

She could hear gunfire from ahead and the side, which meant Laz was now covering her.

She shot a hole in the lock that secured the door closed, wrenched the handle upward on unoiled joints, and rolled it into place along the roof.

The vehicle swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision, and Kierse was thrown sideways.

Her hip crashed into the doorframe as she flung herself inside the cargo hold, and she winced.

That was going to bruise. Another thump closer to where she was sprawled out sent her scrambling to her feet.

She pushed through the mess of boxes from the auction, looking for the large, slate-gray container that housed the cauldron.

With enough time, she was certain that she could break it open.

She didn’t have to do it here. She just had to get it into their car.

“Kierse!” Laz cried as the second goblin dropped down into the back of the bay.

She whipped around, punching into her slow motion at the perfect time. His bullet had already been heading for her chest. She moved an inch to the right, trying to escape its path, but it skimmed her left arm. She cried out as it ripped through the muscle.

“Shit,” she said as the pain careened her back into regular motion. At the same time, she lifted her gun and unloaded it into his chest. The goblin was wrenched off his feet, falling over the edge of the vehicle and crashing onto 9th Avenue.

Her breathing was harsh as she watched the goblin stay down, dead.

It was far from the first person she’d killed.

Jason had taken that pleasure from her. But it still didn’t feel…

great. The monsters she’d killed after Jason had all deserved it.

This guy? A goblin mercenary working for the wrong person?

He probably hadn’t deserved it. But it was her life or his, and her survival instincts were top notch.

Now for the cauldron. She turned around, and there it was.

“I found it,” she told Laz across the earpiece.

“I’ll take out Schwartz.”

“Make it look convincing.”

Laz chuckled. “No worries there.”

The cauldron was in a box with a number of fancy antitheft safeguards. She reached out with her mind, looking for a hint of magical deterrent. It was too good to be true that this would be just a simple robbery.

It came to her immediately. An almost familiar scent of pine and lemon threaded through with the gold wisps of magic.

She squinted to see the warding marks etched into the side of the box, a pair of crossed swords, the mark of the maker.

Keep out , it seemed to say, in that language that flew through her mind.

She reached through the magic, absorbing it as she went for the box. When her hand touched it, it was with a surprising silence.

The cauldron was a magical artifact of the Tuatha de Danann.

The spear emanated an unrivaled amount of magical energy.

With her new attunement to magic, she could feel the power radiating from her spear through the steel of its case.

The cauldron should have been just as powerful—she should have been able to feel it.

Instead, it was silence. Which meant only one thing…

“It’s the decoy,” Kierse said with a sigh, retreating.

“Fuck,” Laz said, panting. “How do you know?”

A thud came over the comms, and then a body was kicked out of the car. Kierse jerked around to see Schwartz rolling down the street, alive but injured.

“Fuck, Laz.”

“You said make it look convincing,” he said as he took control of the vehicle and pulled to a stop.

Kierse took the box in her hands and jumped out of the back. “We should take this with us anyway. I want to practice on the locks.”

Laz was already stepping out, opening the back door, and helping her get the fake cauldron inside the limo. “Fine. But the actual cauldron?”

“Gone,” she said on a sigh.

“Not gone,” another voice said on the line.

“Graves,” Kierse said with relief. “What happened?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” he promised. “Schwartz got a tracker on both boxes. I’m sending the connection to George. I’ll meet you there with Edgar.”

“Got it, Boss,” Laz said.

Of course Graves had a Plan D when A, B, and C went to shit.

George pulled away, heading south. Kierse kept glancing at the decoy box, wondering at the magical signature and whether she’d be able to break through the security.

At first glance, it was deceptively easy, but she knew what sort of traps were locked into it.

A dangerous smile came to her as she thought about learning its secrets.

George continued south until 9th Avenue turned into Hudson through the West Village, then veered left onto Bleecker Street.

The darkness brightened as they entered the Village and its nightlife ignited through the charming streets and artists’ center.

Late-night restaurants were packed. Music filtered out from the bars.

A comedy club off of MacDougal had a line wrapped around the block.

Kierse gaped. “Wow.”

“Looks like the tracker stopped,” George said.

“Fuck,” Graves growled on the line.

“What?” Kierse asked.

George pulled over, and Kierse glanced out the window. Her heart dropped. Graves was right. “Fuck” was absolutely the correct word.

Kierse stepped onto the cement behind the comedy club and looked up at the New York City entrance to Nying Market.

“I’m ten minutes out,” Graves said.

“We don’t have ten minutes,” Kierse said with Laz at her back.

“Fuck,” he snarled again.

George was suddenly at her side, offering her a coin and the phone tracking the cauldron. “Is there anything else you require?”

“Thank you, George. I think I have it from here.”

Then she stepped into the goblin market, alone.