I felt better when the shade eased from his crouch and tucked his pistol away. He put his arms to his side, palms out in an insincere gesture of acquiescence. Tagging me before so many witnesses would be too costly. Stalemate.

I kept Francis before me as an unwilling shield. There was a whisper of sound as the other two shades ghosted out of the office area. They held themselves against the back wall of Megan’s office. One had a drawn weapon. He took in the situation and holstered it.

“Okay, Francis,” I said. “It’s time for your afternoon constitutional. Nice and slow.”

“Shove it, Rachel,” he said, his voice shaking and sweat beading his forehead.

We edged out from behind the desk, me struggling to keep Francis upright as he slipped on the rolling pens. The Were by the door obligingly stepped aside. His attitude was clear enough. They were in no hurry. They had time. Under their watchful eyes, Francis and I backed out the door and into the sun.

“Lemme go,” Francis said, beginning to struggle. Pedestrians gave us a wide berth, and the passing cars slowed to watch. I hate rubberneckers, but maybe it would work for me. “Go on, run,” Francis said. “That’s what you do best, Rachel.”

I tightened my grip until he grunted. “You got that right. I’m a better runner than you’ll ever be.” The surrounding people were starting to scatter, realizing this was more than a lover’s quarrel. “You might want to start running, too,” I said, hoping to add to the confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His sweat stank over his cologne.

I dragged Francis across the street, weaving between the slowed cars. The three shades had come out to watch. They stood with taut alertness by the door in their dark glasses and black suits. “I imagine they think you’re helping me. I mean really,” I taunted, “a big, strong witch like you not able to get away from a frail wisp of a girl like me?” I heard his quick intake of breath in understanding. “Good boy,” I said. “Now run.”

With the traffic between me and the shades, I dropped Francis and ran, losing myself in the pedestrian traffic. Francis took off the other way. I knew if I got enough distance between us, they wouldn’t follow me home. Weres were superstitious and wouldn’t violate the sanctuary of holy ground. I’d be safe—until Denon sent something else after me.

Nine

“Something else,” I mused as I turned a brittle yellow page that smelled of gardenias and ether. A spell of inconspicuousness would be great, but it called for fern seed. Not only didn’t I have time to gather enough, but also it wasn’t the right season. Findlay Market would have it, but I didn’t have the time. “Get real, Rachel,” I breathed, shutting the book and straightening my back painfully. “You can’t stir anything that difficult.”

Ivy was lounging across from me at the kitchen table, filling out the change of address forms she had picked up and crunching through the last of her celery and dip. It was all the supper I had time to make. She didn’t seem to care. Maybe she was going out later and pick up a snack. Tomorrow, if I lived to see it, I’d make a real supper. Maybe pizza. The kitchen was not conducive to food preparation tonight.