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Inwardly I cursed my own weakness and forced my thoughts back to the task at hand. We made it to the first store without incident. Magic caressed my skin as I stepped across its threshold, but the store proprietor barely glanced up at the chime signaling that a dangerous arcane had entered the building.

Pretty much par for the course here.

The wizened old man finished tinkering with whatever he was working on, wiped his hands on a grubby towel, and hobbled toward us. It was only when he got close to the nearest light that his skin took on an odd, greenish glow and it became apparent his wrinkles were not so much due to age as to heredity.

Half Goblin.

“Whaddyawant?” His voice grated against my ears with the consistency of gravel, his scowl growing with each syllable.

I threw back the hood so he could see my face. Beady black eyes widened and he stumbled back a step.

“You!”

“Yeah, me, Allazzar. Did you think you wouldn’t see me again after your little double cross?” Scott growled next to me, but I patted his arm to keep him quiet.

Allazzar straightened to his full height of four and a half feet and narrowed his eyes. “Me, double-cross a customer?”

“That wep you sold me three months ago was a dud, Allazzar. It misfired and nearly got me killed.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a nervous swallow. “Er, whaddyamean it misfired? My weps
never
misfire.”

“Lucky for you I know that. Which is why I’m giving you a chance to make it up to
me—without
involving the Elders.”

His greenish skin had taken on a distinctly white pallor. Messing with a pissed-off Fury was bad enough. Offending an Elder, on the other hand, was a hundred times worse. They had powers that made mine look like child’s play.

“I swear, Fury, I didn’t know your wep was a dud. Modified it myself, I did. Perhaps your enemies interfered with. . .“ His voice trailed away as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes, well. You have my humblest apologies and of course you can select a replacement at no extra charge.”

My hand reached, out and caressed the length of a crossbow hanging nearby. Some arcanes still preferred the old ways—amped up with magic, of course. “I have a better idea, Al. You can outfit my friend and me here, and give us enough firepower to outfit several other companions of mine, at your cost. Then we’ll be square, and I
won’t
have you shut down.”

His mouth trembled as mutiny flashed across his face. Not even self-preservation could interfere with his greedy. Goblin ways. “Preposterous. You and your friend I could outfit at cost, and that would equal the one wep you dest—er, that misfired. Several others? At cost?! Are you trying to drive me out of business, Fury?”

I glanced at Scott and saw his lips twitching with the effort to hold back laughter. I winked and turned back to Allazzar.

“Now, Al, if I were a less trusting sort, I’d believe that someone bribed you to give me a nonfunctioning wep.” Several drops of sweat broke out on his forehead. “But I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt since I ordered it off the Net and anyone could have screwed with it in tran sit.” Hell, it’d been recently enough that it could have had something to do with the current case. Doubtful, but pos -

sible. “That means you need to work with me. None of this gold-gouging Goblin crap. I’ll give you ten percent over cost for everything we get tonight, plus another ten percent bonus once we complete our mission and provided that all the weps—all of them—work properly.”

He spit into his hand and held it out. Before he decided he could wrangle more out of me, I spit into my palm and placed it around his own. We shook hands. Magic shot from the ground to where our essences mingled, flaring with brilliant green sparks that sealed our deal—and meant he couldn’t try to cheap out on me like he’d done with the Internet deal. My own fault for trying to beat the system.

The bartering done, Scott and I walked up and down the narrow aisles, occasionally testing the feel and weight of various knives, swords, and guns, trying to decide which would work best for us and which might work for those we had in mind to use them. Not surprisingly, I kept gravitating toward Al’s hyped-up Sig Sauer P229s, the same model Mr. Asshole had confiscated from me, though I splurged and upgraded to the Elite Stainless. The Sisterhood
was
buying, after all, even if they didn’t know it yet.

Al seemed much more enthusiastic when he saw the sheer amount of weapons we laid on his counter.

Even just ten percent above cost of everything we had selected would be a very nice night’s profit for him. The extra ten percent made it even sweeter.

And, of course, made it less likely he would try anything sneaky.

We made arrangements for him to deliver everything except our own personal weps to Hounds of Anubis later that evening, since we sure as hell couldn’t trust anyone else with the location of the safe house. Especially not Goblins. They’d sell their mother’s darkest secrets’ if it brought enough (make that any) profit.

After meeting up with Ellie and Mac, we stopped to make arrangements with Charlie and his fellow Giant, then headed back into the Belly and toward Hounds of Anubis, figuring it would be safe enough for the few hours it would take our purchases to be delivered. Halfway there, however, I wasn’t so sure.

The others gave me questioning looks the third time I paused in the middle of the sidewalk for seemingly no reason. Sure enough, the footsteps that had been trailing us since we left Gunmetal Alley stopped milliseconds after we did. I started walking again, continuing the thread of conversation we’d been engaged in, then muttered into the pause, “We’re being followed.”

The two Hounds seemed disgruntled that I’d heard something they hadn’t, but I didn’t bother explaining that I’d had my senses magically augmented the entire time we’d been back in the Belly. We kept up the ebb and flow of-conversation, hissing and discarding several plans of action until we finally agreed on the most straightforward. Mac and I continued onward, letting the two Hounds dart into the shadows and trail around until we had our pursuer trapped between us. A minute or so later, howls split the air and Mac and I whirled, running back the way we’d come. Mac shocked me when he kept up pace for pace. I really
had
to figure out what he was.

I shifted as we ran, reveling in the wash of magic pounding through my body, soothing Nemesis and Nike mentally and preparing for a good ass-kicking. We broke out into the middle of an abandoned street and my body tensed. Scott and Ellie were herding a cloaked and shadowed figure our way. I pounced, landing and ripping the cloak away so we could see our pursuer. Wide, frightened eyes stared back at me from a familiar, achingly beautiful face. Amaya.

Or, more accurately, Fake Amaya.

Adrenaline morphed to disappointment, and then suspicion flared. “Why the hell are you following us?”

She blinked, confusion marring the crisp perfection of her face. “I—I don’t know.”

Scott and Ellie exchanged looks mirroring my own doubts perfectly. Mac just stood there, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Rage dripped from my lips, and she cowered back a step. “P-please. I truly don’t know. I only remember leaving the apartment for an appointment, and the next thing I know I’m being chased by—by them.” She gestured to Scott and Ellie as if they were complete strangers. Which, come to think of it, they were.

I bit back the retort raring to burst from my lips. Who said Furies couldn’t exercise tact when the situation called for it? Taking a deep breath, I shifted to mortal form and held out a hand. “Come on, then.

We’d best see you safely home.”

She eyed my hand warily. “Home?”

“Yeah, to Dre’s place. That
is
your home now, isn’t it?”

Her hand settled into mine a moment later. “Yes, it is.”

Ellie raised her brows when I tugged Fake Amaya in the direction of Hounds—and Dre’s penthouse suite. I mouthed the word
Later
and draped a hand along the back of Fake Amaya’s shoulders. She walked along meekly, not commenting on the fact that I was acting so buddy-buddy to her even though we barely knew each other. For once, I didn’t find her easy compliance spooky.

I sent tendrils of magic curling around her, probing to see whether someone had recently tampered with her by magical means. At first, I didn’t detect anything unusual. But then I struck pay dirt in the form of a tight knot of magical energy located at the base of her skull. Someone had compelled her within the past few hours.

We walked in silence for the first few blocks. My mind whirled, trying to figure out who stood to gain the most from sending Fake Amaya out to do their dirty work. I just kept coming back to the obvious conclusion—whoever was the traitor among the Murphy family—but something about that didn’t quite ring true. How would they have the opportunity to work such a complex spell on the fey creature who Dre kept practically under lock and key?

My mouth dropped open as we crossed the threshold of Dre’s building. The doorman escorted us to the elevator while I chewed on the realization that had struck. I watched the digital numbers inscribed above the gilded -elevator doors ticked downward. Twenty. . . nineteen... eighteen...

Sudden urgency tugged at me. “Amaya—Mya—whoever you are—does Dre always let you leave the building for appointments alone?”

The number above the doors continued ticking downward. Eight. . . seven’. . . six. . . five...

“Oh, I wasn’t alone. My bodyguard was with me.”

A chime rang out as the elevator doors swooshed open. We piled inside the vehicle, empty except for the uniformed sorceress-cum-operator. The elevator zoomed quickly upward.

Excitement surged. Finally we were getting somewhere. “And who was that?”

Mya chuckled, gesturing a graceful hand toward the sorceress who was smiling at us widely. Too widely by far. “Doreen, of course. She always escorts me when I leave the apartment.”

Oh fuck.

Magic, a hell of a lot, stirred beneath our feet. I

knocked Mya back and herded the others into the corner’ behind me. Only Mya protested; the others had done the math and come up with the same conclusion I had. That bitch had set us all—

The elevator ground to a halt, brakes squealing so loudly my ears rang. Doreen’s lips were moving in a silent chant and the energy beneath our feet was rising to her call.

Shit. Oh, shit.

I shifted—or tried to anyway. Something blocked me off from the inner pools of magic I used to change from mortal to Fury. Panic flared. How the hell was I supposed to fight a badass sorceress (for Dre would hire none other) without magic?

Scott’s equally panicked voice sounded softly in my ear. “I can’t shift.”

“Me, neither’ Ellie muttered.

We were
so
toast right now. I braced myself to make a noble, futile flying leap onto the sorceress, but then I froze. My lips curved when I remembered where we’d just come from.

Magic churned between the sorceress and us. I may not have been able to touch it, but I sure as hell could feel it. She had brewed a nasty piece of work, undoubtedly fatal. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than she began to aim the magic in our direction.

“Drop!” I screamed, grabbing Mya’s arm and jerking her down with me. The five of us barely made it to the floor in time. A burning hot flood of energy rushed overhead, passing so close I swore I smelled singed hair. It reminded me of the fuckup with the Phoenix, and that just pissed me off.

Doreen was gearing up for another go, and this time it wouldn’t take her nearly as long to build up the magic. I waited until she was committed to the spell. “Stupid bitch!” Her expression tightened at my words and she began siphoning magic at greater speed.

I worked my hand beneath my sweatshirt while she was distracted, flesh meeting the cold, hard length of steel marking manmade sidearm. Clicking off the safety, I leaned over so the ground wouldn’t impede my reach. Once the sorceress could no longer safely withdraw from her spell, I drew.

Her eyes widened when I pointed the wep. Then she

did the very thing I’d assumed she would never be psycho enough to do. Released the unfinished spell.

Magic sizzled and burned into a deadly maelstrom. A completely uncontrolled, uncontrollable maelstrom rampaging through the tiny confines of the elevator.

Ah, hell. Now we’re
all
gonna die.

Instinct had me firing off a half dozen rounds, but they simply passed harmlessly into the thick wall of energy whirling between predator and prey. On the plus side, her act of insanity had one benefit. It disrupted whatever magical block she’d placed on us.

I shifted into partial Fury form, leaving off the wings. Nemesis and Nike took one look at the whipping inferno of magic headed straight our way, and their hoods immediately flared. “Brace yourselves!” I shouted over my shoulder, then raised the girls up high and sucked magic through them in a violent rush.

I began building a bubble of protection’ around the five of us, creating it as quickly as I could, adding layer after layer of buffering energy meant to work off as much of the raging torrent as it—

The maelstrom exploded before I had even a half dozen layers fully in place. I saw Doreen go up in eerily beautiful sparks and flames, crazy green eyes blazing with triumph since she was sure we would soon follow her into death. And she might have been right.

The unleashed, half-formed spell devoured layer after layer of protection, but slightly more slowly than I’d anticipated. My breath hitched at this realization.

I manipulated magical energy more quickly than I’d ever before dared, creating additional layers of magical buffer. Stacia would have had kittens if she’d seen the shoddy work I made of it, but these individual shields didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to slow down—and destroy part of—the maelstrom eating through the outer layers. If only I could create more than the spell had teeth for...