Ian was holding a baseball bat, swinging it with threatening precision. His first victim—the Mazikin that had jumped on my back—lay groaning at my feet.

The wail of a siren cut through the momentary silence. Clarence screeched at the others. As if they shared one mind, the horde of Mazikin, several of whom were bleeding and limping, threw themselves into four-legged mode and sprinted toward the far side of the parking lot.

“We have to get out of here,” Ian said as he grabbed my hand. He tossed his bat into the open back door of his SUV and helped me in after it. He hopped in the driver’s seat. The engine was already running.

But instead of peeling out, he calmly put the thing into gear and slowly drove out of the parking lot. I stayed low as we drove past curious bystanders, but realized that we had been hidden behind the SUV when he’d used the bat. If they’d seen anything, it was me running from a bunch of four-legged freaks.

“The windows are tinted,” Ian said, still a bit out of breath. “You don’t have to hide.”

I straightened up and peered out the window. At the far end of the parking lot, an old blue van swerved out of its spot, jumped the curb, and drove over the sidewalk, narrowly missing a couple who’d been walking hand in hand. To the soundtrack of at least a dozen car horns, the van plowed into traffic, swerved, and was out of sight almost instantly.

Ian took a more subtle approach. He drove to the main exit, never missing a turn signal, slowing at every speed bump, stopping at the yellow light. He turned onto the road and accelerated neatly to exactly five miles over the speed limit. I watched out the back window as two police cruisers zipped past us into the theater parking lot, too late to do anything but gather statements. Fortunately, the Mazikin had put on the big show. We were the forgettable ones.

My mauled forearm throbbed, and I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for the rescue.”

He glanced into the backseat when he heard my voice. “They hurt you.”

I looked down at my arm, examining it in the dim light. “It’s not bad.”

“Should I drive you to the hospital?”

“No. It’s fine.” I needed to get to Raphael, but I probably had an hour or so before it got really bad. I hoped. I’d never been bitten before.

Ian laughed dryly and shook his head; then he took a sharp right turn. He pulled into the school parking lot and stopped next to my car. His hands stayed on ten and two, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His shoulders lifted as he took a single deep breath. Then he turned around to face me.