Not looking at the man I pushed past, I peered out over the kitchen archway to the restaurant—then paused. Cinnamon. Cinnamon and wine.

My anger vanished, and I turned to the man now heading for the men’s room. Nice slacks, nondescript windbreaker, soft shoes, dark hair, well built. Smelled like a snickerdoodle dunked in wine.

Shit, the guy was an elf.

Fourteen

Heart pounding, I ran back down the corridor. I hit the men’s room door with a bang that reverberated from my arm to my toes. Breath held, I slid to a stop as the unknown elf turned.

Trent still stood beside the row of sinks, hunched under a claustrophobically small circle. Something close to panic was in his eyes, quickly turning to his familiar cool dispassion, but I’d seen it, and I knew he was glad to see me. The air smelled like ozone, and the last of the attacking elf’s green aura trying to break through Trent’s circle flickered and went out.

I put a hand on my hip, and gestured with the other at the man in his trendy windbreaker and utterly blank expression. Trying to kill Trent on my watch? I don’t think so. “If I can’t kill him, then neither can you,” I said, and the assassin’s lips twitched.

I moved, tapping one of Las Vegas’s lines even before he threw a ball of magic at me. Striding forward, I flashed a circle into existence for the bare second I needed to deflect the green-hazed ever-after into the corner. It hit the tiled wall and spread out, a gelatinous ooze smelling of bone dust emanating from it.

“Nice,” I said, thinking it must be a charm to break someone in half. “You want to leave before I hurt you?”

Hunched, the elf backed up, trying to keep enough distance between us so that he could throw something at me and not have it bounce back at him. I kept going forward, trying to get under the guns, so to speak. Grasping him by the front of his windbreaker, I shoved him into the wall, slapping aside his attempt to flood me with ever-after.

“I said, you need to leave,” I said, unimpressed, but I hesitated when I felt the prick of wild magic brush across my aura like sandpaper. Eyes wild and frightened, the man smiled at me, and a quiver rose in my chi as I thought of black snakes unwinding from Al’s head to kill Ku’Sox. The man made a gesture, lips moving and fingers twisting into an awkward figure. He gasped as his hand contorted and I heard knuckles pop, and hazy black enveloped his fist.

Alarmed, I dropped him before his magic could flood into me.

“Demon whore!” he shouted, clearly in pain as he threw whatever it was at me. I flung myself back to dodge his spell, hitting the stall door and falling backward into the toilet even as my protection circle sprang up. Arms and legs flailing, I caught myself with the oh-so-helpful railing they put in there. Sprawled across the seat with my arms straining, I stared at the horrifying green aura only a handsbreadth from me, slithering over my bubble as if looking for a way in. It was wild magic. It had hurt the assassin to cast it. It might make it through. I didn’t think it was going to be sunshine and lollipops if it broke my bubble.