Karl swung on Rhys, fast enough to make the other man pull back, chair legs squeaking.

"You can leave now." Karl walked toward Rhys. "In case Grant Gilchrist didn't tell you how this works, let me explain. You have the rest of the day to pack and leave the city. If you don't? Come sundown, I hunt you and I kill you."

Rhys held fast as Karl approached, but Robyn was sure he blanched.

"That was your boy you set on us last night. Gilchrist?"

"He didn't come home last night, did he? I warned him that afternoon. Told him he had until sundown. He didn't listen. Perhaps you'd like to take that as a lesson."

"What happened with Grant was a mistake. My mistake. I underestimated how much it would mean to him, to his reputation, to take you down. I thought I had him on a tighter leash than I did."

The flash in Karl's eyes said he didn't appreciate the doggie reference. Robin could't blame him.

"What happened to your son – " she began.

" – was not intentional." He looked at Hope. "You had no way to foresee what he'd do, and I'm sure you did try to help him, but my point is that what's happening here goes beyond the simple help the council has given clairvoyants in the past. If you'll back off, I can stop this young woman – "

"Adele Morrissey."

He straightened, a sudden shift to cover his reaction – the one that said he'd hoped they hand't gotten as far as a name.

"Yes, that's what they call her," Rhys said. "I can handle Adele. She won't bother you again." Robin noticed he did't mention getting her off L.A.'s Most Wanted list. "What I need is for you to – "

"Back off and let you handle it," Hope said. "A clairvoyant. The father of Adele's partner in crime – "

"Colm was not Adele's – " He took off his ball cap again, holding it on his lap, finger tracing the bill. "I haven't been a part of my son's life for thirteen years. So, no, I don't know what he was doing, and I should't defend him. But I'm going to ask you to give me twenty-four hours to handle the situation."

"To get Adele and anyone else involved out of town, and out of reach of the council."

"I'm not – "

A crack from the bathroom. Robyn leapt up, brain screaming "gun!" But it only took a second to realize that was't it at all. A metallic clang, not a bang. Then another.

"Down!" Karl shouted.

A hiss from the bathroom, like a broken pipe. Karl dove for Hope, knocking her to the floor as Rhys plunged from his chair.

"It's okay!" Robyn yelled. "It's not a – "

Karl kicked her feet from under her as the room filled with smoke.

Karl knocked Hope to the floor as gas filled the room. She yanked her shirt collar over her mouth, then looked to make sure he was doing the same, but he'd flipped around, grabbing Rhys's legs as the man dove for the floor.

Smoke swirled around them, thick as Maine fog. The men disappeared into it, a leg or arm appearing for a second, then gone with a crack and a grunt as they fought. Her eyes stung, watering. She blinked hard and peered into the fog, smacking the floor as she searched for her gun.

"Get Robyn!" Karl shouted, knowing she'd be trying to come to his rescue instead.

"Rob?" Hope yelled.

A cough answered.

"Cover your mouth," Hope called, choking back her own cough as the gas burned her throat. "Close your eyes. I'll find you."

She crawled, hunching along on one hand, the other holding her shirt over her mouth. She closed her eyes – she couldn't see anyway. Chaos eddied through the gas, steady waves tickling over her skin like a lover's touch, making her shiver.

Robyn coughed again, to her left now.

"Stay where you are!" Hope called.

A grunt of pain and a curse from Rhys. Chaos shuddered through Hope, the demon begging her to stop and enjoy it. She gritted her teeth and told the demon this wasn't the time. It ignored her until another crack, this one followed by a hissing growl that the demon recognized as Karl in pain. That shut it up.

"Robyn?"

A hacking cough, to the right now.

"Stay put! I can't – "

Booted footfalls clomped into the room. Shadowy figures appeared in the fog. Hope scuttled to the side and flattened up against the bed. The figures passed.

The room had gone quiet now.

Another cough. Robyn must have mistaken the men for cops. But a murder suspect didn't warrant a riot squad takedown. Gas and SWAT teams were the Nast's trademark. Hope knew now who Rhys worked for.

Hope slithered across the floor, toward Robyn. She couldn't be more than a few yards away – the room wasn't that big. The footsteps stopped. Hope did, too, lifting her head to listen.

A dull thump right beside her. A voice, muffled, as if by a gas mask, the words indecipherable. When the response came, Hope was concentrating hard enough to make it out.

"Think so."

A hollow, echoing snort. "Comforting. You gonna…" The rest was muddled. The answer was a laugh.

Robyn coughed.

Hope held her breath, but the men kept talking. Then a voice came from the back near the bathroom. "Move it. Mr. Nast wants us on the road pronto. We've got to grab that clairvoyant girl before dark."

"Take his legs and I'll…"

Hope didn't catch the rest or the response, but the gist of it was that they were trying to get someone outside. Rhys. The gas would hold the rest of them until they'd moved their comrade to safety.

She waited until they'd gone. Then a cough came, so soft it was more a throat clearing. Hope crawled toward it. A sliver of light filtered through the fog from the drawn curtains, meaning Robyn was next to the front door. Perfect. A few more feet and Hope would be -

Her forehead smacked into the door. Hands caught her, tugging her down with a "shhh."

She reached to pat the hand, tell Robyn she was okay. Her fingers touched a ribbed cuff. Rhys's sports jacket.

Hope spun, fists flying into the fog. One struck home, the impact jolting up her arm. She swung the other in the same direction. It hit with a smack. Then fingers vise-gripped around her wrist hard enough to make her yelp. Rhys wrenched Hope's arm behind her back. Her eyes flooded with fresh tears, salt stinging her burning cheeks. She tried to punch with her free hand, but he slammed her onto the floor, nose hitting hard, pain exploding.

Rhys crouched over her back, pinning her down, arm still jacked up behind her back. When she wriggled, he ratcheted her arm higher, making her gasp.

"Shhh!"

She smashed her foot into his leg. He yanked her arm higher and she bucked until the pain forced her to stillness, panting and blinking back tears.

Rhys yanked Hope to her knees.

"Up," he whispered, with a heave that forced her onto her feet.

She heard fingers sliding along the wall, as if searching for the knob. The door eased open, and a breeze gusted in, pushing the fog back as Rhys propelled her through. The fresh air hit like an icy blast. She gasped. Her throat and lungs and eyes burned. Even her skin felt hot. Her stomach roiled.

Rhys kept pushing her. She smacked into someone. A hard blink and she could make out a short figure in front of her. Another blink brought the face into focus – a preteen girl fixing Hope with a glower before shouldering past, muttering.

Hope glanced behind her. Rhys was blinking hard, eyes streaming. He swiped his jacket sleeve across them and reached into his pocket. Hope threw herself forward. He pulled her back, wrenching her arm up without a beat. A shake of his hand, unfolding his sunglasses, and he put them on.

"Keep walking."

Hope looked around through the glaze of tears. Another gust of wind rattled along the motel front, shaking the screen doors and sending fast-food wrappers swirling about their feet. The sun needled her eyes. Strands of hair whipped her face. One head shake and she knew she had more hair outside her ponytail than in it.