“Jhamal, Zora, and I will take him dead on. Hang out over here.” I point to a parallel alleyway. “If he gets away, he’ll assume it’s just the two of us and run this way thinking it’s clear.”

He nods, but the way he purses his lips lets me know he thinks this is a waste of time. Sure, we could keep going, but information is a powerful weapon and we could use more of those right now.

Hinges creak and metal clangs around the corner as the Loyalist struggles to work a metal latch on the contraption.

Images of my prison cell creaking open cut into me in a flash. I suck in a breath, the memory playing on repeat. I’m thrown inside the cell by rough hands. I reach for his weapon, my magic, something, but my arms are bricks beside me. The prison door slams closed and I grip the cold bars of the cell. My magic stills inside me. My knees are weak underneath me and I look for Jhamal. Two men in white coats drag him out of sight. What are they doing to him? I slide down the walls of my cage. What have I done?

I gasp and steady myself on the wall beside me. Jhamal never mentioned seeing guys in a lab coat. That they’d dragged him. That they’d hurt him. Why didn’t he mention that? I mean, I guess, why would he want to relive that, regurgitating to me? How does that help us? He’s been through so much already.

“Rue?” Zora blinks at me. “Are you okay? You went glassy eyed on me for a moment.”

“I’m fine,” I say, shoving away the memories trying to choke me. “Let’s hurry.”

I round the corner with Zora, hands held high, ready to block whatever curses he throws at us. He glances between us and the device.

He smashes a red button on the device then bolts. Zora and I take off after him, away from the device, which could be some kind of bomb for all I know. We chase him down the far end of the alley, spilling out into the street. This I didn’t expect. No fight, not even one spell? What kind of followers is the Chancellor recruiting? I glance back at Bri, who is hovering over the device with careful hands.

“No, get back!” I yell.

“It’s not explosive,” she shouts, smoothing her hands along its side like she’s looking for something.

We round on the Loyalist.

“Get away from me!” He glances in both directions, but we have him T-boned in an intersection. Jhamal emerges from the alleyway behind him. Cornered, his eyes widen.

“Bri,” I shout, but she’s already tinkering with the metal contraption.