I turn to run to the Cadillac, maybe I can catch him before he’s gone, but the burst of pain in my shoulder reminds me that I’ve got a fucking arrow in my arm.

I limp over to the Cadillac, pull the pavement arrow out of my shoulder. I’m starting to get woozy. Can’t be from blood loss. Haven’t been bleeding enough yet.

My tattoos are still doing something. The hell did that kid do to me? I run through what I can remember of my tattoos and the only thing I can come up with is that it might be poison. That or demon brain worms. I really hope it’s poison.

I slide into the driver’s seat, grab my suit jacket and tie it tight around my arm. It’s a shit job and I don’t know if it will do anything, but direct pressure’s all I’ve got until I can get somewhere safe. I don’t have time to do any kind of first aid. I can already hear sirens.

I pull the Caddy away from the curb and round a corner just as the first cop car pulls up. The Caddy’s got some spells engraved in its frame to make the normals not pay attention to it. They’ll see it as any other car on the street, but it’s never going to seem out of place.

Police aren’t usually more than a pain in the ass, but I need to get this arm dealt with. The wound’s bleeding pretty heavily. Hospital’s out. I don’t have time for questions there aren’t any good answers for.

There’s only one place I can think of.

Chapter 3

I pull up to the warehouse gate just east of the L.A. River and honk the horn. My heart started hammering in my chest about ten minutes ago and I’m having trouble seeing straight. The wound in my shoulder is still bleeding, soaking through my shirt. I look like I’ve rolled around on a slaughterhouse killing floor. I really hope Gabriela knows a good back-alley doctor. Or better yet, a mage who’s a good back-alley doctor.

Nobody comes out, so I lean on the horn again. They know I’m here. Gabriela keeps snipers on the top floor in case somebody gets through the gate. Normally she’s got three armed men in the parking lot, but today the lot’s empty.

If nobody’s here, I’m in trouble. Of course, if there is anybody here I might still be in trouble. Gabriela’s one of the more stable mages I know, which isn’t saying much—mages and pragmatism aren’t something that usually go together. She might think it’s easier to let me bleed out in my car than it is to let me inside.