Keeping his balance on the moving bus was not easy, but he carefully made his way to the edge, gripping the smooth surface as hard as he could and peering over the side.

Dai She squirmed uncomfortably on the floor. His makeshift seat had become unbearable, as had the stench. Surely walking was a better option.

Something moved near the top of the dirt-encrusted window. A shadow? Curious, he stood and wiped the glass with a filthy, damp rag. A face looked back at him—a face only a mother (or a master) could love. A face he had never been happier to see.

Viktor.

Dai She opened the window and Viktor poked his head in. But any elation at seeing his companion quickly dissipated when the bus driver slammed on the brakes, then turned in his seat to vehemently voice his objection. Dai She’s translation skills weren’t the sharpest, but he understood the essence of the driver’s highly animated speech.

Either it goes or you go.

But there were limits to Dai She’s patience, and they had just been reached. He had not become the vilest Wand Master of all time by accident.

The bus driver was in midrant when Dai She’s pupils narrowed to thin vertical lines—the eyes of a snake. He concentrated on the driver’s thoughts and sought out his personal fears.

Spiders. Too easy. He smiled.

The first indication the driver had that there was a problem was the distinctive sensation that something was climbing up his leg. Dai She expected some hysterical screaming, but the reaction was even better: The driver was paralyzed with fear, unable to move, unable to speak.

Then Dai She made the large, hairy black spider disappear in a single puff of smoke. “Start driving,” he commanded.

Either the driver thought he had imagined the feeling of a spider on his leg, or his mental capacity was too limited to connect the dots. He began to rant about Viktor once again, raising a hand and pointing at the vulture.

This time, two spiders the size of dinner plates appeared out of thin air on the man’s arm. A gargled scream caught in his throat as he began to shake in fright. So that there was no misunderstanding about what was happening, Dai She waved his hand over the spiders, and again they disappeared. “I said,” he commanded menacingly, “drive the bus.”

The driver slowly backed away from Dai She’s snakelike glare. But instead of returning to his seat, he made a mad rush for the door. A half-dozen hairy arachnids blocked his way and he flopped backward into his seat, blessing himself with multiple signs of the cross for divine protection.

“Drive now, or I will tell them to attack. And when they are done, I will have a snake swallow you whole.” A large boa constrictor slithered across the floorboard, tongue flicking, eyes full of hunger.