Guy took the bowl in one hand and offered me the other, helping me onto the car.

“Money.” Guy’s voice echoed through the hall as he lifted the bowl. “It makes the world go round. Or so they say. For folks like you, this—” he ripped open an envelope and pulled out a handful of hundreds, “—is the source of your power. Your only power.”

A buzz of discomfort as some people glanced at their purses and pockets, thinking not of money, but of cell phones. No one took them out—they were just reassuring themselves that they were there, like sidearms, protecting them if this turned out to be more than a show.

“Where’s our birthday girl?” Guy called.

Her friends parted around her.

“This is a lovely party, sweetheart. But if your daddy really loved you, he’d be giving you self-defense lessons instead of sports cars. Because this—” he flung the bills, “—doesn’t protect you nearly as well as you think.”

Now the phones came out. Guy wheeled on the closest woman to us, as she lifted one to her ear.

“Have a call to make? That’s rather rude, but go ahead.”

She pulled the phone from her ear and frowned at it.

“No signal? Handy things, reception blockers. Good for ensuring no annoying ring-tones interrupt a show. I’m afraid you’d need to step outside to use that, though I wouldn’t recommend it. My performers hate to lose their audience.”

One man strode toward the closest door. Guy waited until he was two steps from it, then hit him with an energy bolt that knocked him to his knees, gasping, as sparks flew.

When a group of teenage boys ran for the front door, a cloud of red smoke appeared in their path, twisting and writhing. A demon’s head shot from the smoke. The boys fell back, screaming. A brave one raced for the next exit. Another red cloud. Then a huge dog’s head lunged from it, snarling and slavering. Trip-wire illusions—sorcerer spells that activated when someone drew near.

Guy leaned down to me. “Cry havoc.”

“And let loose the dogs of war,” I murmured.

“And war it is, Faith,” he said, barely audible over the screaming and shouting, as illusions sprang from every exit. “Never forget that. It’s us versus them. They tell us not to make waves, to stay quiet, to buy peace by hiding.” He met my gaze. “Do you like hiding, Faith?”

Without waiting for an answer, he spun and waved his hands, not murmuring his spell but shouting it. Sparks arced from his fingertips. Below us, Max cast and fog swirled through the room.

A vision flashed. A gun pulled from a pocket.

“Watch out!” I shouted to Guy as I spun, pinpointing the source. “There!”