Sabrina’s tarot card flashed in my mind, the Hanged Man spinning on his rope.
As I blinked the vision away, Kai stepped out into the hall. Our eyes met one final time before he swung the door shut, and the soft click of the latch was like an ominous strike of thunder in my chest.
Chapter Twelve
Our foursome was down to three, and every step I took away from Makiko’s secret condo made me wish even more that Kai was still with us.
Aaron walked ahead of me, a black beanie covering his copper hair and Sharpie hanging down the center of his back; its silver pommel peeked above the collar of his coat, and the bottom of the sheath stuck out from beneath the hem. Ezra trailed behind me, wearing a ball cap pulled low to shadow his pale eye and scarred cheek, watching everything from beneath its brim. I strode along the sidewalk between them with my hood pulled up. Robin’s gray backpack hung off my shoulders, stuffed with the cult grimoire, our customized summoning ritual, and the case with Nazhivēr’s blood.
My combat belt was around my waist, hidden under my jacket, but the back pouch remained empty. Hoshi hadn’t returned.
We didn’t know yet where we’d build a new summoning ritual, or even where we’d hide out tonight, but like Kai had said, none of that mattered without Robin. Though we had the ritual and instructions, we weren’t Arcana mythics. Only sorcerers could build working sorcery arrays.
So our destination? Robin’s apartment.
It was a risk. Odin’s Eye knew about her involvement, and they were probably hunting for her too. However, unlike me and Aaron, Robin hadn’t listed her real address in the MPD database. She might be hiding at home, and that gave us a chance to beat the bounty hunters to her.
At least, that’s what I told myself as we left the high-end Coal Harbour neighborhood and entered Gastown, the always-bustling tourist area where I’d once attempted to land a waitressing job. Old-fashioned streetlamps glowed cheerily as we followed the redbrick sidewalk past quaint historical buildings.
As we stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change, I noticed a café with an empty sidewalk patio, the yellow umbrellas folded up. Inside, a waitress carried a tray of food past a brightly lit window.
That café was the last restaurant I’d applied to, where the manager had revealed that no one in downtown Vancouver would hire me.
As I’d been standing outside the door in despair, a paper with three mythic job postings had blown into my face—and one of the postings had been for the only guild in the city that would’ve considered hiring a human out of the blue, on a day when Clara had been so desperate for help that she’d overlooked my paperwork in favor of a trial shift.
That was some next-level luck. Maybe some would call it fate. Like with Sabrina’s tarot cards, there was magic at work in this mundane world that I didn’t comprehend. That maybe no one comprehended.
But choice was more powerful than fate.
I’d chosen to read a piece of garbage, discovering the job listings. I’d chosen to venture into a bad neighborhood. I’d chosen to accept a trial shift.
And I’d stuck around. Every time things got messy, got ugly, got scary, I’d chosen to stick it out.
Now here I was, nine months later. The hot mess of a girl who’d thrown a margarita across three customers in a fit of temper had grown so much, changed so much, shaped by happiness and love as much as by fear and anguish.
I clasped Ezra’s and Aaron’s hands. Ignoring their questioning looks, I waited for the crosswalk light to change, then marched across the road.
Gastown’s quaint buildings disappeared, replaced by utilitarian structures that grew increasingly dilapidated as we ventured into the disreputable Eastside. We wound through an alley and halted where it met a cracked sidewalk. Several blocks north of us was the Crow and Hammer, and a block south was Robin’s apartment building.
“Do we split up to scout the neighborhood?” Aaron muttered. “Or stick together?”
I tightened my grip on their hands. “Together.”
Aaron nodded and set out again. I finally released them so we could assume a more casual formation, trying to blend in with the sparse foot traffic—except the number of pedestrians was increasing. And they were all heading in the same direction as us.
Ahead, unusual light leaked past the three- and four-story buildings: red and yellow flashes, with a steady orange glow that tinged the dark sky.
The breeze shifted, and the potent tang of smoke hit my nose.
Ezra, Aaron, and I exchanged alarmed looks, then sped up. Not quite jogging, we raced to the intersection, sprinted across, and wheeled around the corner.
A huge red firetruck with lights flashing blocked our way forward. A large crowd of people and two news vans filled the street behind a temporary barrier. Beyond it, five more firetrucks were haphazardly parked on the road, and a group of firemen strode out of the building’s smoky front entrance while others aimed heavy-duty hoses, thick streams of water raining down.
An apartment building was engulfed in fire. Black smoke billowed upward, disguised by the dark night, and angry flames leaped from the shattered windows.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, my hands pressed to my mouth.
A gaping hole marred the building’s face, as though a wrecking ball had demolished a third-floor unit. The ragged maw belched fire and smoke, and it didn’t take an expert to guess that’s where the inferno had started.
A fireman shouted a warning, and the watching crowd gasped as a balcony railing plunged three stories and crashed to the pavement. A moment later, the entire balcony broke away. It smashed into the ground, debris flying everywhere.
“Is that … Robin’s apartment?” I asked numbly.
Ezra nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. My hands shook as I slid the flip phone from my pocket and dialed Robin’s number. Instead of ringing, it
