I'd always prided myself on my sixth sense. Like an itch at the back of my brain, it fills my head with wary alertness. I was usually almost glad when the moment finally came and things went bad.

I wasn't feeling so much that way right now.

To my surprise, I made it to the corner without incident. For about the hundredth time, I wished I'd inherited at least some of my mother's ultrasharp senses, but no such luck. And to human ears, nothing moved along the whole street, nothing breathed.

Then a door opened and a couple came out, the man obviously inebriated, the woman amused. The corner of my eye caught a shadow running down the side of the buildings, using the couple's laughter as a distraction, and I took off after it. As soon as I did, the streetlights began flickering overhead and a chorus of mad growls echoed down the street. The couple glanced at me as I ran past, but they didn't turn to see what might be chasing me.

Another illusion, then.

I picked up speed, and so did the harsh panting on my heels. I told myself that the sounds were imaginary, but my nerves weren't buying it. I put my head down and ran faster, ignoring my leg, which had stopped throbbing and started screaming.

My focus narrowed to the thin tug of the spell, ignoring outside distractions, until a stream of bullets smashed into my shields. For a moment, I didn't know if they were real or not, until one took out a streetlight overhead. I lunged into an alley for cover, the faint smell of electrical smoke drifting down around me. Nothing else entered, yet the snarls were still right behind me. That settled it—they weren't real, just illusions designed to herd me into a trap. A trap that the four mages running down the street had just sprung.

There was no point in subtlety—they knew where I was. And the longer we played around, the more time Colafranceschi would have to get away. And that wasn't in the game plan.

The mages had guns up, not shields, making it clear that they didn't intend to talk before blowing me away. My own shields wouldn't hold for long against four opponents, not as drained as they already were. So I threw a vial onto the concrete that sent a dense white cloud boiling up around us and dropped my defenses, too.

My tattoo allowed me to see through the smoke, but it looked like my attackers didn't have that advantage. One slammed full speed into the metal side of a trash can, and another pulled up right before he hit a wall, tripping over the first guy in the process. But the third and fourth mages were a little savvier, and one of them must have had a tattoo to increase hearing, because he stepped around the corner and fired straight at me.

The bullets went over my head because I had gone into a crouch as soon as the fog hid me. I fired at point-blank range, my bullets biting deep into his chest even as I turned, shoved the barrel underneath his buddy's chin, and pulled the trigger. He jerked violently and went down. I went with him to avoid the splatter of bullets from one of their friends, who had recovered enough to zero in on the direction of my shots.

I shoved the mage to the side once we hit concrete and rolled across the alley, crawling through the trash from the mangled can toward the entrance. Mage number two passed me in the process, firing as he moved in. I could have taken him, but I didn't know where his friend was. I opted to go for the street instead, exiting the alley carefully, looking for mage number one. And found him pressed flat against the brick wall outside, waiting for me.

He grabbed me before I could shoot, and this one knew how to use his body, wrapping his legs around mine and twisting my gun arm nearly to the breaking point. Not to mention that he wasn't above hair-pulling, which considering his crew cut gave him a really unfair advantage. He somehow got behind me, his hand closing over my wrists as he snarled a spell into my ear. And the world went white behind my eyes.

I fought blindly, tuning out the pain of my overtaxed muscles and slamming him back against the wall behind us. The force of the blow made him grunt, but he didn't let go, or call off the swarm of enchanted knives that were buzzing about, scraping bricks as they tried to zero in on me. He didn't have to kill me, I realized, as the searing pain of a blade tore through my shoulder. All he had to do was keep me immobilized long enough for his weapons to hunt me down.

I sent my own arsenal into the air, hoping it would hold them off for a few seconds, and heard the clash of steel on steel as I twisted my gun enough to fire. It only hit him in the arm, but he yelled and jerked back, bashing his own head against the brick. His hold loosened and I tore out of his grasp, spinning to fire into his still-open mouth.

My feet were clumsy as I staggered away, gritting my teeth on a scream, blood welling up between my fingers as they clutched my shredded shoulder. I hadn't heard anything from mage number two, which probably meant he was sneaking up on me, but he wasn't my problem—the witch was. I felt around with my senses, and surprisingly, the tug of the locator spell was very nearby; she must have wanted to watch her boys take me apart. I got a fix on her position and started to run.

I didn't get far. I'd taken maybe half a dozen steps when my feet became clumsy, like I was trying to walk through molasses. It's just another damn illusion, I told my body, but it didn't seem to be listening. There was a low-level buzz of energy vibrating through the air, plucking at my awareness, and suddenly a giant face appeared in the air above me, peering down like the Great and Powerful Oz.

"Impressive," Colafranceschi said as I struggled against my legs' stubborn belief that they were dragging hundred-pound weights. "How much are you being paid?"

Not nearly enough, I thought, forcing myself to concentrate on the fire escape two buildings down. My eyes told me that there was no one there, but the spell said differently. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because whatever it is, I'll double it," she offered. "I could use someone like you. Good help is hard to find, as you must have noticed."

"Doesn't sound like you're mourning your men too much," I noted, trying to concentrate on the conversation while also listening for approaching footsteps and keeping a read on the locator charm.

"Four against one are good odds; they should have killed you," the projection said, shrugging a misty shoulder.

"Not much of an epitaph," I gritted out, barely keeping the strain out of my voice as blood gushed down my arm. I ignored it because I couldn't afford the magic loss it would take to staunch it. I'd passed the first building, but going forward was getting harder with every step. What had felt like molasses was starting to resemble half-set glue. "But I guess your business isn't so much about compassion, huh?"

"In my business, you don't meet too many people who deserve it," she said wryly.

And for a moment, that stopped me, freezing my feet as her spell hadn't, a rage flooding my veins. "Did Adam deserve it?" I spat. "Did Jason?"

"Who?" she asked, just as somebody dived at me out of the night.

I'd reloaded, but I didn't bother firing. I tossed a vial instead, one that shattered against the mage's shields in a cloud of blue flames, evaporating them like smoke before engulfing the man himself. He fell to the ground, writhing as they ate into him, and was dead before he could scream.

That particular potion was one of Dad's more spectacular inventions. And while it wouldn't have been so effective against a war mage's shields, this guy hadn't been one. It was gruesome enough to snap Colafranceschi's concentration and allow me to cover the last few yards before she could get off the fire escape. I threw her to the ground and straddled her, gun under her chin before she could blink.