The closer we got to that area, the more unpleasant the sting of magic became, though it didn’t in any way feel threatening. I guess that was no surprise given Rinaldo wanted us in there to retrieve shit for him.

We passed the intersection where our final battle with Luke had begun. Blood still stained the road—blood that had not come only from Luke but from Sam, the cloaks, and even me—but little remained of the buildings that had lined the intersection. What Jackson and I hadn’t blown to smithereens, fire had apparently finished.

But those fires were long gone. There wasn’t even any heat left in the few bits of blackened, burned wood that remained.

The night began to take on a deeper orange glow, but there were no plumes of smoke rising to blot out the stars, and the air was filled with not only the stink of death and decay, but also magic. It felt like thousands of tiny gnats were tearing at my skin, and it was a goddamn wonder blood wasn’t being drawn.

We turned down another street. At the far end was an almost sheer wall of concrete and metal, and recognition stirred. I’d been here before. My gaze darted to the side street on the right just before the barrier—that was where I’d first confronted Luke. Though he’d been protected from my flames by a barrier of magic, it hadn’t saved him from bullets. Rory’s shot, however, had only winged him. The bastard had fled into a nearby building, which I’d subsequently brought down on top of him, but he’d escaped that, too. At least Death had eventually caught up with him; now we just had to pray she caught up with Rinaldo and his witch.

I’m thinking Rinaldo is far cannier than Luke ever was.

Undoubtedly. But he will make a mistake eventually.

Then let’s hope we’re around to both see and capitalize on it.

A smile touched my lips but faded quickly as we walked into the side street and stopped. The fire was now a sheer wall of dancing, orange-yellow flames that rose high above us, and yet the heat that rolled across my skin held none of the fierceness it should have. In fact, the only thing that seared was the closeness of the magic that was somehow containing it.

I rubbed my arms and eyed the street warily. It wasn’t very long, and was dominated by the huge pile of rubble that had once been a building. My gaze swept across the destruction, and I wondered again how the hell Luke had survived. He really shouldn’t have—though I guess in the end the “how” didn’t matter; he was dead, and we were now battling the people who’d stepped into his place.