But then there are these guys who have not only power, but money and resources, on their side. I can get cash whenever I want by hexing an ATM, any mage can, but guys like Werther never have to. They’re not just rich, they’re wealthy. They can afford to buy an army of normals, supernaturals, mages, whatever and get unwavering loyalty. It also helps that he’s something like a hundred and fifty years old.

“Yeah, I remember you. We had you over at the house a couple times. I recall you shitting on their idea of going after Jean Boudreau. You know he killed them, right?”

Werther heaves a sigh. “An unfortunate business, that. I merely felt that waiting would ultimately lead to his criminal enterprise imploding in on itself. It was a prudent course of action.”

“Prudent. Oh, hey, look. I learned a new word for chickenshit today.”

“Be that as it may, I have been asked by some of the more prominent families in the city to speak to you about the recent fires. There’s quite a bit of evidence suggesting you did it.”

“Yeah, I keep hearing that. Bullshit then, bullshit now.”

“I see. And these two here? I suppose you didn’t kill them?”

“Believe it or not, no, I didn’t. I figure once you look ’em over you’ll realize that they were taken out at distance, probably with a high-power rifle.”

“Perhaps,” he says. “Perhaps. But you see, they’re not my concern. You are. You’ve made a lot of noise in the last couple of years here. The seers and scryers have been watching you, as much as that panoply of protection tattoos will allow, at least. They see something coming. Something big. And you are at the center of it.”

“Have I upturned the apple cart one too many times?” I say. I know where this is going. Knew as soon as their cars pulled up.

“Oh, far more than one. Out of respect for your family, I can make this easier and faster if you just come out and don’t resist.”

“And if not?”

“Then my men here will have to kill you more painfully. And slowly. I have seven, and you, well, you have just yourself.”

Seven? With Werther that makes eight. But I felt nine people drawing magic from the pool. Where’s that ninth person? Is Werther fucking with me?

“I can always fight them with witty insults and double entendres.”

“I’m sure they will be very biting,” he says. “Now, will it be the clean way, or the messy way?”

I can hear shuffling feet. Underneath the Cadillac I can see the legs of Werther’s personal kill squad. They fan out quietly, trying to flank me. I do a quick count. Yeah, with Werther, that’s only eight.