“And you won’t care if I leave?”
“No. It won’t change anything between us, promise.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he studied me, lines of tension around his mouth. After a long moment, he gave a short nod. “Understood.”
A strange zing of unease ran through me. “Zak—”
He caught my wrist and drew my hand up. Pulling something small from his pocket, he pressed it into my palm.
“You might need this too. Keep it this time.”
The tight grip of his fingers disappeared from my wrist, then he turned, his long coat billowing out behind him as he swept toward the open doorway.
As he reached the threshold, he paused. “If you considered me a friend, would you have asked for my help instead of telling me to save my own skin?”
My eyes went wide and a wordless protest scraped my throat. “I didn’t—I was just …”
He glanced back, taking in my guilty expression.
“That’s what I thought.”
Then he was through the doorway. His footsteps thumped quietly down the stairs, the sound quickly lost in the rumble of voices rising from the pub. Jaw hanging, I looked down at the object in my palm—a square of purple fabric, warm from his body heat and heavier than it looked.
The Carapace of Valdurna. His most valuable fae artifact.
I shot a disbelieving glance at Ezra, then vaulted toward the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I charged down the steps, but just before I reached the bottom, I spotted him across the crowded pub.
The pub door opened, and his dark form slipped into the darkness beyond. He didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Crow and Hammer boasted twenty-five combat mythics—if you counted the half-trained apprentices. I wasn’t sure I should be on the list, considering that, one, “half-trained” was too generous for my skills, and two, I was human.
Unfortunately, three members who did count as experienced and battle-capable were missing from our ranks. When shit hit the fan a week ago and Darius gave everyone the option of barricading together in the guild or running for it, Weldon, Zhi, and Ming had taken Option B. Good riddance to creepy old sorcerer Weldon, and the other two, young Arcana siblings, had never spent much time at the guild anyway.
The last member I would’ve loved to have standing beside me was Robin, not only because I was desperate to know she was safe, but also because her demon was scary-lethal and we needed all the help we could get.
But without them, that left twenty-two of us. Twenty-two men and women who would protect our guild from the Keys of Solomon bounty hunters while our non-combat guildmates hid inside.
The chilly night breeze smelled of coming rain. Each fitful gust nipped at my cheeks and tugged at my ponytail, a few stray strands dancing around my face.
Ezra stood beside me, his curls hidden under a black beanie. His bad-guy-smasher gloves ran up his arms, and in each hand, he held a short sword. Not his twin terrors, but similar in length and weight.
On my other side, Kai wore solid black, his combat vest loaded with small weapons. His two katana were sheathed at his hip. He wasn’t a Crow and Hammer member on paper, but he belonged right here in every way that counted.
Arranged on the street with us were the rest of our combat mythics. Tabitha stood with Laetitia, Sylvia, Cameron, and Darren. Felix was teamed up with his wife Zora, Gwen, Drew, and Cearra. Andrew would lead Lyndon, Ramsey, Philip, and Venus—who was, it turned out, a combat alchemist.
Aaron stood just ahead of me, Ezra, and Kai. The three mages were powerhouses who could play off each other’s strengths, and I’d act as their rearguard.
The last three members of our small army strode along the line like generals assessing their troops. Girard, artifacts clipped to his belt and two heavy pistols in shoulder holsters. Alistair, his white beard bristling and a thick, metal-capped staff in one hand.
Leading them was Darius. Dressed entirely in fitted black. Lots of leather. The four silver daggers hanging from his belt drew the most attention, but only a fool would miss the cuff-like bracelets gleaming around his wrists. He might be a rare luminamage, but Darius King wasn’t a mythic who limited himself to a single type of weapon.
He reached the center of our line, halted, and glanced across the empty streets. The Crow & Hammer was situated on a corner, meaning enemies could approach from four directions.
“Ezra?” he murmured questioningly.
“I can’t sense any movement yet.”
Nodding, Darius faced the line of combat mythics, decked in gear, carrying as many weapons as they could wield.
“This is a situation I never thought we would face,” he said, his voice carrying to every ear. “As your guild master, I am your guardian and defender. It’s my duty and honor to stand between you and the MPD—whether their administrators, field agents, or a guild they’ve assigned power to.
“The Keys have the power, the temperament, and lawful permission to kill.” His gaze swept down the line of mythics. “By myself, I can’t protect you, but together, we can protect each other.”
On my left, Ezra’s swords shifted as he tightened his grip. On my right, Kai closed his gloved hand around the hilt of his longer katana. In front of us, Aaron drew Sharpie from its sheath, orange light from the streetlamp overhead gleaming across the faint, flame-like pattern that rippled down the blade.
My hand drifted to the paintball gun at my belt. Gone were my yellow sleep potions. Sin had given me two magazines. One was a “super” sleep potion, and she’d spent a solid five minutes warning me to stay at least ten feet away from my target before shooting because the stuff would put me in a coma for three days. In the second magazine was a potion she’d simply called “hellfire.”
Each magazine held seven paintballs, totaling fourteen shots. Fourteen enemies I could potentially take
