Sydney made another surprise turn, one that the Escalade got honked at for copying. Her face was filled with tension, and I knew she had to be working hard to remain as calm as she looked. This was the nightmare she’d lived with for so long: the Alchemists finding her again. “Don’t feel so bad,” she told Marcus. “After everything that’s gone down in Palm Springs, they probably keep eyes and ears here regularly. For all we know, you weren’t even spotted. Someone could’ve seen Eddie and decided to do some snooping. He’s a person of interest to them too.” She shook her head. “The real issue is how to lose them.”

“Get back on the highway and take the first downtown exit,” Marcus said.

Going back into a congested area makes no sense, hissed Aunt Tatiana. They’ll take Sydney again!

“Shouldn’t we get on the open highway and try to outrun them?” I asked.

“We’d never be able to do it,” he said. “Besides, they’d probably get backup, and we’d find a few more of those coming after us.”

Sydney exited as directed, pointing us toward the city center. Ahead of us, I could see some of the most crowded corridors of downtown, narrow streets packed with cars while pedestrians and outdoor tables filled the sidewalks.

“I’m guessing you’re playing on the fact that the Alchemists don’t like to make a scene,” Sydney remarked. “But remember, they did chase us—quite openly—down the Strip in Las Vegas.” She’d been in a wedding dress at the time, making us stand out that much more. “They’ll do what they’ve got to do.”

Marcus nodded. “I know. But they’ll still avoid too much of a show if they can. Really, my main goal is getting to my escape car.”

“Your escape car?” I stared, dumbfounded. “You have an escape car?”

He flashed me a smile. “I’m Marcus Finch. Of course I have an escape car. It’s accessed by an underground tunnel that comes out of Miguel’s Taqueria.”

“Underground—” Sydney shook her head. “Never mind. That’s six blocks from here, and we’re about to get stuck because of lights and slow cars.” The cars in front of us came to a stop as the traffic signal turned red.

“Correction,” said Marcus, suddenly unbuckling his seat belt. “They’re about to get stuck because of lights and a stopped car. Everyone get out.” Immediately, I realized what was about to happen, and he confirmed it when he put his hand on the door’s handle. “You guys know how to be evasive. Meet me at Miguel’s—but don’t let them follow you there.”