I was beginning to think that he had a reputation.

Jace said something very low. The man's eyes flicked past his shoulder, fastened on me, and he gibbered something.

Jace went very still. He asked a couple more questions, both answered in a high whine.

Jace laid the knifeblade against the man's cheek. He said something very low and quick, and I caught my name—Dante Valentino—and his own name, accented strangely. Then he let the man go, tossed him onto the floor of the alley, the knife disappearing.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes thoughtful, I knew there was trouble. "What was that?" I asked incuriously, looking down at the man moaning on the pavement. He seemed to be in an ecstasy of fear. "And are we hauling him in?"

"No, let him go, he's wetting his pants anyway. Come on, Danny." Jace straightened his shoulders. "We've got to pow-wow."

Gabe and Eddie drifted in from the mouth of the alley. We left Jace's contact scrambling against the cracking pavement and moaning to himself. "Good news," Gabe whispered. "There's a set of heavies coming through the neighborhood, Jace. Not sure if they're looking for you or—"

"They aren't," he said grimly. "Word is the Corvin Family's looking to capture Danny. Alive and unharmed. Someone is putting the squeeze on the Mob down here." Jace's eyes didn't move from mine. He wore dark blue, shirt and jeans, blending into the night. He dropped his hand to his swordhilt, tapped blunt fingers in a pattern I recognized. "Wonder who that could be."

"Santino?" I asked. Why would the Mob get involved, especially a Mob Family I hadn't ever tangled with? Then again, the Mob didn't want us to go after Santino last time, because they were in the same corporate bed with him when it came to illegal augments. The memory made my lip curl. Gods above and below, how I hated the Mob.

Behind me, Jace's contact monkeyed up a splitting, rotten wooden fence and dropped down on the other side.

"Don't think so. I've got enemies too, and you came in on a public transport as Saint City police irregulars. Fun. About as stealthy as a Skinlin berserker." He grinned, lips stretching back from his teeth in a grimace I remembered. Jace was furious.

Why? Why would that make him furious?

"So what do we do now?" Eddie asked. "They're gettin' kind of close, Monroe."

"Do?" Jace shrugged. "I just told Jose to spread the word that Danny Valentine's under my personal protection. As for those clumsy fuckers moving in, we either run, or we send a message that she ain't going to come cheap. My vote goes for the latter. It will make it easier to get information, scare some people. What do you say?"

Eddie shrugged. "I'm up for a fight."

"Me, too," Gabe chimed in. "Lucky you, Danny, you've got an admirer or two. Or a hundred."

"I can't think of why," I grumbled. "Look at this, I just blew into town and already people want to kill me."

"Not kill," Jace corrected. "Capture. Alive and unharmed."

"For how much?" the demon asked suddenly.

"Five million standard credits," Jace replied easily.

Silence. I looked at Gabe. Her jaw dropped. She had her hair in two braids like a demented schoolgirl. One hung forward over her slim shoulder, the other dangled in back. Her emerald glittered in the darkness. Even in a police rig and synthwool coat in the boiling heat, she looked cool, calm, and precise.

Eddie let out a low whistle.

"Take her back to the house," Jace said to the demon. "Watch her. Don't even send her to the bathroom alone."

"Now just wait one goddamn second," I objected, relieved that Japhrimel made no move to obey Jace. "This is my hunt, I'm not going to be hauled around like a piece of baggage."

"Give us some time to clear the street and do some recon, Danny," Jace said reasonably. But a tic in his cheek was jumping. That meant trouble. Heavy trouble.

There was something Jace wasn't telling. "It's best. You know it's best."

"This is my hunt," I repeated in a fierce whisper. "You are not taking over. Is that clear?"

"This serves no purpose," the demon said. "Dante?"

"Let's go kick some ass," I answered. "Don't fuck with me on my hunt, Jace."

"Danny, you should get under cover until we can sort out who's looking for you." Jace sounded calm and reasonable, but his hand curled around his swordhilt. He was two steps away from rage, and I'd only seen Jason Monroe in a rage twice before.

"I'm not backing down, Jace," I hissed. "Come on."

"Fine," he said. "But after that we're going back and hashing this out."

"Good enough," I gave in. I was hungry anyway, and I wanted a quiet place to think. "Let's go rumble."

"Standard form?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah. Watch out for Danny, everyone, they'll look to net her." Jace didn't look away from me, even when my lip lifted and I snarled openly at him.

"I can take care of myself," I said, thumbing my blade free of the scabbard with a small sound. "Japhrimel, we're going to mix. Kill the opposition, as long as they're not innocent bystanders. Okay?"

"As you like," Japhrimel said quietly. "I will watch over you, Dante. They are coming quickly; we had best go now."

"Oh, Sekhmet sa'es," I hissed. "Get moving, standard form. Jace, you take point; Gabe, keep Eddie from going berserk—"

"Danny?" Gabe turned, her right hand sliding below her left armpit. "They're here."

As if to underscore her words, a plasbolt crackled past. I looked up—they'd gotten onto the roofs. Stupid, sloppy, I'm going to smack Jace hard for this. "Out!" I yelled, shoving Jace. "Take it streetside! Go!"

We ran.

"Twelve of them," Japhrimel said, his voice calm and clearly audible even though the rest of us were pounding down the pavement, Eddie gasping out something that might have been the beginnings of a chant. I snapped out two words of the Fourth Canon, throwing my right hand up. My second ring—amber cabochon—sparked and crackled, and a milky shimmer in the air separated around each of us. Juggling a spell while running was bad enough, but worth the effort because a plasbolt streaked the air and splashed against the shimmershield surrounding Gabe, who let out a short sharp falcon's scream, probably expecting to be flung on the pavement.

My own cry rose with hers, breathless. I pumped Power into the shimmers, drawing from the city's well, grateful I'd already suffered through the migraine of backlash—Eddie and Gabe would be crippled by their limited ability to draw on Nuevo Rio Power unless they had taken the time to acclimatize themselves.

Gabe grabbed half the load on the shimmershields away from me, her mental touch light and deft. "Do something!" she screamed, as we plunged into the nighttime crowd. I thought she was screaming at me instead of Japhrimel, so I popped the shields down, freeing them from my conscious control; stopped short (stopping from a full head-on run is a skill, I'll admit I stumbled) and turned, my sword sliding free of the sheath.

"Danny!" Jace yelled.

The crowd of Nuevo Rios exploded away from me, making signs against the evil eye. I met the first hired thug with a clash of steel—he didn't have a sword, but he had a machete. I knocked the plasgun out of his hand with a flicker of my scabbard. Metal clashed and rang—he cut overhand, a sloppy move, expecting me to be dumb enough not to expect it—tall, thin Nuevo Rio man in an assassin's rig, black leather straps with various knife sheaths and other things attached. I dispatched him with a short thrust and backed up as they converged on me, six dark-eyed, dark-haired men, one of them a vaudun, shaking his staff. The bits of metal and circuit-boards attached to it jingled. Neon ran on the wet street, the sound of sirens and screams of the crowd fading from my consciousness. Six against one, I thought, twisting my blade free from the body on the ground. I'm going to enjoy this. Watch that Shaman, he's the dangerous one.