Nick’s face went ugly. “I stole a statue,” he said. “She killed someone and twisted a demon curse to hide that she still has it. I’d say I’m better than a foul, demon-marked witch.”

I sputtered, pulse pounding as I felt myself go light-headed. Damn him!

Ivy leapt at Nick. Jenks yanked her back, using her shifting momentum to swing himself into Nick. Hands made into fists, Jenks punched him solidly on his jaw.

I took a gasping breath, and the I.S. guys turned their walk into a run. Angry, but with a modicum of restraint compared to Jenks, I got in Nick’s face. “You sorry-assed bastard!” I shouted, spitting hair out of my mouth. “You ran into us!”

I wanted to say more, but Nick pushed himself at me. Jenks was still holding him, and all three of us went down. Instinct kept my hands before my face, and the bandages on my palms were the only thing that saved my skin. Pain shot through my ribs and hands as I hit the grating. The cold metal pressed into my leg where my jeans were torn.

“Get off her!” Ivy snarled. She yanked Nick up and away, and suddenly I could breathe again I looked up in time to see him spin into Jenks. Like a choreographed dance, Jenks cocked his fist and this time connected right under his jaw. Nick’s eyes rolled up and he crumpled.

“Damn, that felt good,” the pixy said, shaking his hand as a thick I.S. officer grabbed his shoulders. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he said, letting the men drag him off. “Being big is good.”

Shaking so hard I felt I might fall apart, I got up, bobbing my head at the FIB officer’s unheard questions and obediently going where he directed me, but I lost it when a hand closed on my arm.

“Rachel, no!” Ivy shouted, and I turned my spin-and-kick into a spin-and-hair-toss. Adrenaline cleared my thoughts, and I took a painfully deep breath. The man released me, knowing I had almost landed one on him. His mustache bunched and his eyebrows were high, questioning, as he looked at me with new eyes.

“He killed him!” I shouted for the benefit of the watching Weres and starting to cry like a distraught girlfriend. “He killed him! He’s dead!”

The sad reality was the tears leaking from me weren’t that hard to dredge up. How could Nick say that to me even in anger? A foul, demon-marked witch. He had called me a foul demon-marked witch. My sense of betrayal rose higher, cementing my anger.

Jenks wiggled out of the grip of the two men holding him, and as they shouted and tried to catch him, he darted for my bag on the pavement. Grinning, he tucked my phone and my wallet inside before shaking everything down. I wasn’t sure, but I think the remote went through the grating, and I breathed easier.

An I.S. officer grabbed him, cuffing him before shoving him back into our little group. The man shuffled through my bag before returning it to me. I thought it better to let the stone-faced guy have his way than bring up my rights.