In the corner, the assassin was getting to his feet, shaking the pain from his hand. I wasn’t keen on the gleam of anticipation he still wore. Licking my lips, I glanced at the charm burning its way to me, then back to him. “Stricto vive gladio…,” I started, and the man’s eyes widened in fear as he recognized the “bounce back” charm. He scrambled to his feet, almost flinging himself at the door in his effort to flee.

“Gladio morere transfixus,” I finished, and the green haze coating my bubble vanished.

The fleeing elf skidded to a halt between Trent and me, his back arching as all his muscles seized. Mouth open in a silent scream, he reached behind him as if trying to touch something. Gurgling wetly, he collapsed, his back scraping on the sticky floor.

Horrified, I broke my bubble and pulled myself out of the stall, looking at the man contorting under the charm meant for me. His lips moved as foam bubbled at the corners while he tried to speak the countercharm. “Sorry,” I said, wincing. “Maybe you should have tried to kill me with something that didn’t hurt so much.” A soft pop sounded, and Trent’s face turned ashen. I think the guy had just dislocated something.

Groaning, the man collapsed, but it had been the curse breaking, not the man’s spine, and he lay on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Maybe you should leave now,” I suggested, and he rolled to his hands and knees. Reaching for the sink, he pulled himself up. Grime from the bottoms of a thousand shoes coated his back, and sweat glistened on his neck. Panting, he looked to the door as it creaked open, becoming even more frightened.

I looked as well, and a heavy spike of fear slid through my ribs and into my lungs. Ku’Sox. “Damn it, Trent,” I said as I edged over to stand by him. “I told you I have this. I do not need any help!”

Ku’Sox stood before the closed door in a blue-gray, trendy suit, his pale eyes gleaming as he adjusted his silver tie. He had upgraded, it seemed—eaten an executive on Hollywood Boulevard, maybe. With one hand, he opened the door. Music drifted in, along with muffled conversation and kitchen clatter. The assassin didn’t need to be asked twice. Soft shoes squeaking, he fled.

“You’ll never make it in time,” he said to Trent as he slipped past Ku’Sox.

“Oh yeah?” I shouted as the door started to close. “You don’t know nothing!”

Silence fell as the door clicked shut. Crap.

“As compared with you, who thinks she knows everything?” Ku’Sox said, smiling.

My thoughts flashed to him as an ugly stork, in his beak a pixy fighting for life even as the demented demon tossed his head to shift him headfirst down his throat. Stifling a shudder, I nudged Trent’s bubble to get him to take it down, but he didn’t, his face set in grim determination. No fear, though. Stupid man.