“I will. Go,” she said, giving Theo a meaningful look before moving aside for the cruiser. “Keep your eyes on the road—and him.”

“He’s my number one priority.”

THREE

It’s not as bad as being shot with an arrow,” Theo said, as the escort and I drove at very illegal speeds toward the nearest emergency room.

The arrow had been the fault of the city’s mercenary fairies. Theo winced, jaw tight, as we hit a pothole. That was the fault of the city.

The officer who led the way was a solid driver and wasn’t afraid to use lights or sirens. We made it to Chicago South in record time, and the SUV’s passenger door was open before the wheels had stopped spinning. A nurse looked in. She had brown skin, gray hair, and a steady expression. She gave Theo an up and down, and her eyes didn’t so much as widen at the glowing break in Theo’s arm.

“Well, we’ll probably just have to cut that arm off,” she said with a smile that told me sarcasm was her favorite language. I liked her immediately.

“Be gentle,” Theo said, and she helped him out of the vehicle and into a waiting wheelchair.

“You’re friends are just inside,” the woman said, then wheeled Theo in.

I moved the SUV out of the loading zone and jogged back inside. By the time I made it back in, Theo had already been wheeled into some secret part of the building. But in the small waiting room at the edge of the lobby, I found Roger Yuen and Petra Jassim, our other associate Ombud.

Like Connor, Roger liked running even when no one was chasing him. Unlike Connor, he was human. He was tall with a runner’s lean build and had medium brown skin, short dark hair, and dark eyes. He dressed casually unless there was a meeting with the mayor or her consultants on the agenda, and wore jeans and a polo-style shirt today in a somber black.

Petra was an aeromancer and tech genius. Her long dark hair was up in a tail today, showcasing her dark eyes and rounded cheekbones. Her skin was light brown, and she’d paired dark leggings with high-top sneakers and a long-sleeved shirt with geek across the front.

“Theo?” I asked.

“Already taken back,” Roger said. “And is being treated by one of Petra’s cousins, apparently.”

“It’s not her, is it?” I asked Petra quietly. “The one with the eighteen bridesmaids?” The one whose wedding Petra had apparently cut short with a bit of her aeromancy and some strategic lightning. “The one you pissed off?” I asked, my voice a little firmer now.

“Yes,” she said grimly. “Yes, it is. But she won’t hold it against you or Theo. Just me. Do you want to pretend we’re dating? She’s very marriage-focused, and she’ll report to my parents.”

“Is lying to her really the best course of action here?”

“Probably not,” she said.

“Have you heard from Rose?” I asked Roger.