The stucco had seen better days. Graffiti marked the crumbling walls. Trash sat in piles in the corners. If you saw the place in daylight, you’d steer clear of it. The night made it even grimmer. It looked like the kind of place that would shelter a rough crowd, driven to desperation by human predators and poverty. The type of people who’d see you being stabbed to death on the landing and shut their doors while you screamed for help.

“I smell Mulradin.” Robert turned right and sprinted toward the entrance to one of the brick buildings. I jumped off Cuddles, tossed her reins over a hook driven into the wall for that purpose, and followed Robert up the stairs. In his warrior form, he didn’t just run, he scurried, so fast, his paws might as well have been greased. I pushed myself to keep up.

One flight. Two, three.

Blood on the stairs. Faint smudges, getting bigger as we moved higher.

A door swung open above us.

I ran across the landing and up just in time to see Robert tear a crossbow out of a man’s hands. He looked about my age, Hispanic, and rough.

“Go inside,” Robert told him.

The man ducked into the apartment. The deadbolt clicked, sliding in place. Robert charged up the stairs and I followed. We cleared the third floor, another landing . . .

Robert stopped. I almost collided with his tail.

“A ward,” he said and stepped aside.

I walked up to the door. An invisible wall of magic enveloped the door.

“Can we get in from the outside?” Derek asked behind me. Next to him Ascanio and Desandra moved to watch the stairs.

I shook my head. Hugh would’ve warded the windows as well.

I pulled Slayer out of the sheath and tested the ward. Magic nipped at the saber’s point and the sword stopped, unable to go any farther. Usually wards had an elastic resistance, like trying to puncture a basketball that had gone a little soft. This ward was completely solid. I’d come across only one type of ward that was both invisible and solid like this.

I crouched and leaned forward, searching the grimy floor. There it was, a barely noticeable dark smudge. Hugh had sealed the place with his own blood.

“It’s a blood ward.” I straightened.

“Can you break it?” Robert asked.

When Julie had caught Lyc-V months ago, I had performed a ritual to cleanse her blood with mine. She retained some of my magic as a result. My father had used the same ritual or one very much like it to bind Hugh to him. My father’s blood was in that ward, which would make breaking it easier for me. But the power of Hugh’s own magic was in it too, and Hugh had a crapload of magic.