The revenant lunged.

I landed on the floor in an ungainly heap, having avoided the creature's punishing bite by mere millimeters. The chains banged against the table as it thrashed, crazed beyond reason, and it screamed so loud the sound set my teeth on edge. I covered my ears and scooted across the rough concrete as the revenant howled itself hoarse.

That was it. I was out of here! 

Ignoring the burn in my scraped palms, I scampered for the loading dock entrance. I didn't know how I was going to get past the locked gate, but there had to be a spot somewhere along its length where I could either scale it or hide until I could call someone for help. At the very least I had my phone tucked in my pocket—and a solid lead on Theda. 

I was right to not have waited for nightfall. They would have moved the vampire before Havik or I could have come here, and we would've never found her. I wouldn't have been able to pick up the trail once she was transported via vehicle. 

I also needed to leave now. Helpful as this little trip had been, it'd ascended to a level of madness I wasn't capable of handling.

The orange light glancing off the horizon was glaring in my eyes as I hurried to the open loading dock door. It wasn't until I had my feet at the edge of the concrete drop-off that I realized the rumbling in my ears wasn't from the revenant or the rapid pounding of my pulse: it was coming from an idling car engine. An idling van engine.

Three men stood beneath me, looking up with startled expressions.

My luck cannot be this bad. 

But it was. 

The blond magi glowered, glasses flashing, as he demanded, "Who are you?"

Fool that I was, I said the first thing that popped into my mind. "I'm, ah, I work for Emial."

His brow rose. "Emial?"

"Yes." I cleared my throat and forced my shoulders to relax, conveying a more nonchalant posture. Could I manage to pull this off? I remembered what the magi had said earlier when speaking to the other two, so I used his concerns and amplified them. "I work for Emial! He sent me to, uh, check up on how...on how all this is going. He wanted them moved! So, chop-chop!"

The two thugs looked at one another and the magi backed up a step, his jaw tight. "Emial doesn't hire women." 

Stunned, I blinked, dread seeping through my gut. That sexist bastard! 

In that instant, I saw how my life would end, and it wasn't glamorous. The two thugs reached for the guns hidden beneath their jackets and the magi separated a strand of his magic from the inferno of his soul, whispering meaning to the riling energy. I'd either die in a fire or riddled with lead. It'd be fast, but it wouldn't be pretty.

I slung my soul forward, slamming it into the magi's. 

He stumbled, taken aback, and the spell he'd been creating wobbled out of control, flames striking one of the muscled guards. All three of them shouted with alarm.

I ran the only way I could: deeper into the warehouse. 

There was little else I was capable of. I wasn't foolish enough to think I could literally slip through their fingers simply because they were momentarily distracted, so I didn't jump from the loading dock. I didn't run toward the screaming revenant, either, as there was nothing there that would help me out of this mess. The creature was bolted to the table. No way I could release it.

I considered the tunnel that led beneath the streets toward the lounge, but I had no idea where the entrance was or even if it opened here. Besides, tunnels were narrow and there was nowhere to hide inside of them from gun-toting lackeys and their magi accomplice.

Heat roared by my cheek and I dove behind a pillar, panting as the hurled spell struck a wall.

They were going to kill me. I'd always known my damn curiosity would be the death of me.

The men were in the warehouse now. The magi was preparing his next spell, the threads of it pulling at my awareness as he wove them into a dangerous pattern. Though it was magic, if the spell hit me, I'd burn. If it'd simply been energy amassed and flung forward, then it would pass without actually touching me, but when he affixed an element to the spell and had the energy carry it, then I was screwed. The magic behind the fire wouldn't touch me, that much was true. I'd still be doused in flames, though.

I could see the normal entrance to the warehouse, a busted opening filled with old leaves and garbage that led onto one of the byways. I darted from behind my pillar, running for it with everything I had. One of the men shouted and a gun fired—but he missed, glass shattering somewhere in the shadowed dark. The magi's spell reached for me, its tendrils attempting to lock on to my body. My ability didn't allow it to grab hold though, so when the magi released the fireball it went wild, rocketing upward. 

A section of the roof exploded and chunks of steel beams and concrete rained down upon us. The men cursed and took cover—but I ran, closing my eyes against the rising dust, and didn't stop. A large piece of falling debris struck my left shoulder and something cracked, pain exploding in unforgiving clarity. Gasping, I stumbled, then hurried despite the agony. 

I could handle a little pain if it meant I could survive this.

Flinging myself through the gaping doorway, I heard the guns go off again and was fortunate enough to not be struck. Bullets dug into the warehouse's concrete wall, the smell of spent gunpowder filling my nose. My left arm had gone limp and I held it to my chest, eyes streaming, lungs heaving, as my legs strained to propel me forward. 

This alley was unfamiliar to me, just a jumbled collection of boarded-up windows, cracked and scorched building faces, and abandoned dumpsters. The entirety of the area was a mystery to me, and my general sense of direction was muddled by fear, adrenaline, and the sound of the blasted warehouse crumbling. 

The slap of my shoes against the pavement resounded in my ears, echoed by the throb of my erratic pulse. The men were outside the warehouse, too, because I could hear one of their voices raised in threat, the magi ramping up another burst of fire. His unease was a palpable thing: he'd never missed a target before and didn't comprehend why his magic kept missing. This time when he ignited the pillar of flames, he took careful aim and fired it directly at me.

Blind with fear, I swung my soul toward the spell, flinging my ability about so recklessly I nearly left my body. My soul collided with the energy behind the fire and thrust it off course. The magi's pillar spun into the alley wall and exploded in a cloud of mortar and bricks. I heard the magi gasp as I flung my only workable arm over my head to shelter myself from the rain of sharp rocks.

"Stop throwing that shit!" one of the thugs shouted into the obscuring cloud of dust. The magi's response was lost to a fit of coughs as one of their guns fired in the din—and I swallowed a scream when fresh pain seared through my already useless limb.

This cannot be happening. I just got shot! 

There was a door into another warehouse, I could see it waiting through the cloud of debris. I grappled for it, coughing and sneezing, eyes streaming against the grit peppering them as my fingers fumbled over the door's handle and found it blessedly unlocked. I turned it, threw myself inside, then slammed the door shut. 

My sleeve was sticky under my shaking fingers as I gripped my arm and took in the surroundings. The warehouse was darker than the last, and dirtier. There were large blocks of rusted machinery cluttering the main floor space, made for bottling—if the pieces of glass and load of caps was anything to go by. Of course, I didn't care what kind of warehouse or factory this used to be. All I cared about was finding a place to hide. 

I scrambled behind one of the largest blocks of crusty gears and finally glanced at my arm. Terrified, I almost cried with relief when all I saw was a skinned stripe tearing through the fabric. In the chaos, the bastard had only winged me—but the collarbone under my clothes felt odd, swollen and burning, agony striking with a million barbed pins.

Swallowing my nausea, I struggled to get my phone, only to press red fingers to a flat, empty pocket. 

My heart sunk. It had fallen out while I was running.

No fucking way I am this unlucky.

A flash of orange preceded the crash of the door coming down off its hinges and my pursuers stumbling into the factory, covered from head to foot in white dust, hacking their lungs out.

"Spread out," the magi sputtered, his sleeves black and smoldering. "She's in here somewhere."

Crap.

How was I going to get out of this place?

I watched the hulking shadows of the gun-toting goons from the corner of my eye as they ducked into the rotted offices lining the far walls. The magi remained by the entrance, blocking any form of retreat. 

Holding my breath, I tried to concoct an escape plan, but I couldn't think of anything. My mind was reeling, numbed by pain and adrenaline, my body trembling. 

I was screwed. I closed my eyes and listened to my choked breathing and the unsteady beat of my heart. I didn't notice when a shadow crossed my own.

"Hm," a voice commented. "Seems like this isn't the best time for a chat."

My eyes flew open to find an umber haired man squatting by the machinery I hid behind, his strange, coppery gaze on me as he propped his chin up with a hand. A smile quirked the edges of his mouth and it created dimples in his cheeks.

No, not a man. A demon. Maligaphrius.

I squeaked. Oh no. No, no, no, no—! 

He hummed, just low enough to escape notice by the thugs, though with a malicious quirk to his expression, his voice began to rise.

I shook my head fiercely to indicate that no, no he shouldn't raise his voice and no, no he shouldn't be here!

"Well, I decided to stop by and to see how my newest mistress is doing and if she has some task for me to complete—and here I find you! Neck deep in trouble. How sublime."

"Will you shut up?!"

Maligaphrius's fingers played across his lips.

The shorter of the two humans came out of the offices, handgun held at the ready, eyes scanning the warehouse.

"So...would you like me to kill him?" The demon let his hand wander over my head and to my shoulder, where he poked the protruding bone. My shoes scuffed the filthy floor as I kicked my legs, but I didn't scream. What was he doing here?!

Mal's grin widened. "Do you want me to kill him and call our debt settled, hm?"

I was running out of time. The gunman was coming nearer.

I nodded, slapping Mal's hand away from my injury.

"Really?"

Again, I jerked my chin. "Do it!"

The demon popped up from our hiding spot without any fanfare and was met with a hail of bullets. I noticed, however, that the magi hesitated. I couldn't see him from where I was scrooched, but I'd expected a huge lash of flame to come swinging for us when Mal revealed himself. The magi remained at the door, his magic unmoving.

The gunfire came to a halt, and the air was filled with the gentle pinging of spent bullets falling to the floor. They'd hit the demon, then...just fell.

Maligaphrius's eye twitched and his magic responded. The great, hulking shadow of his ability became larger and thicker, some form of glamour overcoming his human-esque features. It was stronger than any glamour I'd ever seen adopted by a Fae, so complex it was difficult for my eyes to pierce the black veil of his disguise to see Mal underneath.

He winked.

All the armed thugs could see was a monstrous, many-eyed wolf comprised of shadows and white teeth. They screamed when the beast exploded, its red eyes wide and watching, everything a flurry of unveiled claws as what little light remained in the dying hour was devoured by the famished creature.

Mal didn't move. He remained at my side, dressed as he had been the other day in his loafers, loose slacks, and untucked shirt, the picture of a rakish rogue with a hand slipped into his pockets. The strange, almost sentient magic was a whirlwind of activity, roiling over my skin with small nips and bites as if trying to find a way inside.

I held myself very still and didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

The screams were cut short with wet gurgles. A sound came to my ears that was akin to someone dropping deli meat on a kitchen floor, and I refused to reconcile that image with the truth of what the demon was doing to my attackers—because I could already taste it. Could taste the metal and fear and horror in my mouth.

I'd unleashed hell.

At last, it was over. The demon's odd glamour shifted and receded until it was contained once more in its hard, inflexible shell, and when Mal lowered his gaze to me, his eyes were more turquoise than copper.

There was weight to that stare, an ancient and inexorable weight given to it by a lifetime of tearing people just like me into bits of viscera.

I was nauseous all over again.

"Leave," I said, voice hoarse and barely my own. "We're even."

Mal lowered himself to his knees as his smooth fingers tripped along my wounded arm. He had the look of someone who wanted to rip the limb off just to see if he could put it back on.

"Are we now?" he said, the question in his tone sending fear through my entire beleaguered system. "But I owed you a life, and—well—it appears I have given you two, mistress. Two lives taken for yours."

I swallowed, the taste of death on my tongue.

"You owe me, now."

Before the true terror of that statement could sink in, before all the consequences of what I'd just witnessed could imprint themselves in my mind and give me nightmares, I processed what Mal had said and drew short.

"Wait...just two?"