Opening the door, I walked outside. The warehouse was one of many near-identical structures on an industrial back road, with a storage lot full of steel pipes opposite it. With no trees in sight, the only greenery was the occasional weed poking through a crack in the asphalt, but the dreary concrete maze was brightened by the afternoon sun shining down from a clear blue sky.
Less unexpected than the break in Vancouver’s perpetual winter overcast was the vehicle parked in front of the warehouse.
Stepping out of his gunmetal gray SUV, Darius pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and surveyed us with intent gray eyes. Like his last visit to our hideout, he was smartly dressed, his short salt-and-pepper beard groomed, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile. Did anything faze this man?
Zak walked through the door behind me. He paused long enough to stare down the GM—no happy feelings of burgeoning comradery there—then turned sharply. As he walked away from us, hooves clacked against the pavement. Tilliag shimmered into view, acid eyes burning in its dark face.
The steel-colored stallion tossed its head, nostrils flared and ears pinned, and barely slowed its sharp trot as it drew level with the druid. Zak caught a handful of its mane and swept onto the horse’s back.
“I’ll be waiting, Tori,” he called over his shoulder.
With another aggressive head toss, Tilliag launched from a trot into a gallop, and as they sped away, both horse and rider faded into the ethereal fae demesne.
I sighed. Zak and his dramatic exits. He could never arrive or leave like a normal person.
“What’s he waiting for?” Darius asked.
“He wants me to call him when we’re done with MagiPol.” I shrugged. “Not that he admitted he’s worried.”
“Hmm.” His gaze turned to the aeromage beside me. “Welcome back, Ezra.”
Grinning, Ezra strode to the GM. They clasped hands, and I wondered who the hell was cutting onions around here, because I wasn’t tearing up over Ezra’s visible gratitude and Darius’s quiet pride. Definitely not.
Darius and Ezra murmured a quick, quiet exchange, and I didn’t even try to listen. Only very recently had I realized they had a closer relationship than I’d ever guessed. Six years ago, Ezra had entrusted Darius with his secrets, his life, and his death, and in turn, the guild master had kept careful watch over his dangerous ward.
Squeezing Ezra’s shoulder, Darius turned to me. “Shall we settle this once and for all?”
Nerves flared through my gut, but I managed to grin. Darius had me stash my backpack in a hidden compartment in the SUV’s trunk—the same nook where his shovels lived, along with a small assortment of mystery bags and tools—then we climbed into the vehicle. I let Ezra have the roomy front seat and took the spot behind him.
The moment I was buckled in, I leaned over the center console. “Fill us in. What’s been happening? How are Aaron and Kai holding up?”
Darius shifted into drive and the SUV rolled away from the warehouse. “Girard checked on them, and they’re fine—though extremely displeased with the accommodations.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t expect a super-rich mage prodigy or a member of an international crime syndicate to enjoy imprisonment.
“I’ve been rather busy,” Darius continued casually. “The MPD assigned an entire team of agents to apprehend me, which has proved inconvenient.”
“Oh yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Inconvenient.”
“Aside from avoiding them, I’ve been connecting with the other GMs in the city, warning them the MPD is trampling their own protocols to discredit me, destroy my guild, and legally murder my guildeds.”
“Did they try to turn you in?”
“None of them were that foolhardy.” His humor faded. “They’re seeing the warning signs as much as I am. All GMs are wary of the MPD’s tendency to ignore their own rules when it suits them, but I’ve rarely seen MagiPol overstep this far.”
“Could the Court have infiltrated the precinct?” Ezra asked dubiously.
“If that had happened, I’d expect a different sort of suspicious activity. I think this is something else.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m just not sure what.”
I nervously bounced my knees. “So what’s our plan for getting the bounty off Ezra, then?”
“There’s an Arcana test for demonic presence. It’s normally used to determine if an infernus contains or is linked to a demon, but it can identify demon mages as well. Our goal is to convince the MPD to test him.”
Oh, that was handy. Well, now it was. Twelve hours ago, it would’ve been a disaster if anyone had tried it on Ezra.
As I tried to imagine what form this test might take, my relief faltered. Ezra had been demon-free for less than a day. What if the test detected something?
“When we arrive at the precinct, I’ll appeal the charges, allege they’re false, and insist you be tested immediately,” Darius told Ezra. “And since you’ll be standing right there, peacefully submitting to the test, they should have no reason to refuse.”
“Should?” I muttered worriedly.
“On the chance they aren’t cooperative, I intend to make this a very public appeal.” He arched an eyebrow. “There’s a reason we’re doing this in the middle of the afternoon.”
The MPD precinct, smack dab in the heart of downtown, stood out from the surrounding buildings in zero ways. Gray exterior, tinted windows, and one side that butted up against an even grayer concrete structure.
Darius turned toward the narrow parking garage entrance. The security arm automatically lifted, and he steered the SUV into the dimly lit passageway under the building. A sign overhead indicated a turn for “Intake,” which Darius passed. A second sign directed “Deliveries” to turn, but Darius skipped that one too, following a third sign that read, “Visitor Parking.”
Sunlight beckoned us onward, and the SUV emerged into a back lot open to the sky, surrounded by skyscrapers. Half the thirty or so spots were filled, but Darius was able to park near the double doors, unmarked except for the MPD logo. We climbed out of the car, and as I
