“No!” I cried. Still on the floor, I dumped my bag. I grabbed an amulet, smacked it against my bleeding neck, and threw it at his feet. Half the charms in my bag were tangled in it. Like a bola, it flew through the air at knee height. It hit him, wrapping around his leg like he was a cow. Tripping, he went down.

FIB personnel swarmed over him. Breath held, I watched, waiting. He stayed down. My charm had dropped him into a sweet, helpless sleep.

The noise of the FIB personnel beat at me. With a single-minded purpose, I crawled to Francis lying alone by the chairs. Fearing the worst, I rolled him over. His sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling. My face went slack. God, no.

But then his chest moved, and a stupid-ass smile quirked his thin lips as they shifted in whatever dream he was in. He was alive and breathing, deep under a ley line spell. Relief poured through me. I hadn’t killed him.

“Tag!” I screamed into his unconscious, narrow, ratty face. “Do you hear me you sodden sack of camel dung? Tag! You’re it!” I hadn’t killed him.

Edden’s scuffed brown shoes scraped to a halt beside me. My face went tight, and I wiped a blood-smeared hand under my eye. I hadn’t killed Francis. Squinting, I ran my gaze up Edden’s creased khakis and his blue arm sling. His hat was on, and I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off the blue letters spelling out FIB glowing against the yellow background. A satisfied harrumph came out of him, and his wide grin made him look even more like a troll. Numb, I blinked as my lungs pressed against each other. It seemed to take an awful amount of effort to fill them.

“Morgan,” the man said happily, extending a thick hand to help me up. “You okay?”

“No,” I croaked. I reached for him, but the floor tilted. As Nick gasped a warning, I passed out.

Thirty-Two

“Listen!” Francis shouted, spittle flying from him in his fervor. “I’ll tell you everything. I want a deal. I want protection. I was only supposed to do Brimstone takes. That’s all. But someone got spooked and Mr. Kalamack wanted the drops switched. He told me to switch the drops. That’s all! I’m not a biodrug runner. Please. You gotta believe me!”

Edden said nothing, playing the silent bad cop as he sat across from me. The shipping papers Francis had signed were under his thick hand as an unspoken accusation. Francis cowered in a chair at the end of the table, two chairs down from us. His eyes were wide and frightened. He looked pathetic in his bright shirt and polyester jacket with the sleeves rolled up, trying to live the dream he wanted his life to be.

I carefully stretched my sore body, my gaze falling on the three cardboard boxes stacked ominously at one end of the table. A smile curved over me. Hidden under the table and in my lap was an amulet I’d taken from the head assassin. It glowed an ugly red, but if it was what I thought it was, it would go black when I was dead or in the event the contract on my life had been paid off. I was going home to sleep for a week as soon as the little sucker went out.