He released Griffin’s shirtfront. “Now, let’s find the source of the blood. I doubt your employer would be pleased if you let a fellow guard bleed to death because you got into a pissing contest with a werewolf.”

ANOTHER TWENTY FEET down the hall, Karl veered into a room and lifted a hand to ward me off.

For once, I obeyed. I’d had enough.

Then the room went dark and I remembered that there was no sense blocking my eyes. The vision began.

A man stood with his back to me as he bent over an open filing cabinet drawer.

“Right where I said they were.” He pulled out a folder. “I appreciate that you’re putting in some overtime for a change, but if you’re going to interrupt—”

The pftt of a silenced shot. The man fell back against the cabinet. I saw his face then. William. The folder fluttered from his hand as he stared, incredulous, at his shooter.

His mouth opened, but a second shot sent him reeling. He crumpled against the filing cabinet, then slid to the floor.

When the vision ended, I didn’t jolt out of it. It just…stopped. And I just stopped. Like coming to the shocking end of a movie, sitting there, staring at the blank screen, unable to think, feel, move. Even the chaos vibes didn’t penetrate.

“Hope?”

Karl’s voice sounded miles away. I felt him grip my arms, as if through a thick winter coat.

“It’s been too much for her,” he said. “I need to get her out of here.”

His words floated past, disconnected, meaningless.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“The hell I’m not. Get out of my way.”

I recognized the rising chaos, but it was like pouring wine in front of my face—I could see it, smell it, know what it was, but it had no effect.

“Hope? Can you hear me? Can you walk, hon?”

“Hon? I should have guessed. A werewolf thief. She must love you. Just dripping with chaos.”

“Get out of my way.”

“You do know that’s all it is, don’t you? That’s all her kind care about. The chaos.”

“Get the fuck out of my—”

My eyes snapped open and I gasped, as if breaking free of icy water. “William? Is he—?”

“Yes, and we’re leaving.”

“No, I had a vision. I can help. I want to.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” Griffin said.

“One last time,” Karl said. “Get out—”

“Do you think Benicio Cortez won’t figure it out, Hope? You fooled him for a while, and nothing I could say would change his mind, but if my partner dies because—”

Karl made a move, as if to brush past Griffin, but he stepped into our path again, and I plucked at Karl’s sleeve, asking him to hold on.

“You think I shot Troy?” I said. “I was with Lucas and Paige, and if there’s a better alibi than that—”

“You didn’t need to pull the trigger. You had a whole gang of young men, just itching to do it, especially if there’s a pretty girl goading them on, so she can sit back and enjoy.”

“I didn’t—”

“Mr. Cortez hates stereotypes. He thinks you should take the measure of the man, not measure him by his type. But in some cases, the type is all that matters, and I know all about yours.”

“You know an Expisco?”

“Hope…” Karl began.

I wriggled from his grip and stepped closer to Griffin, consumed by the need to know, circumstances be damned.

“Are you still in touch with him? Could I talk to him?”

Griffin gave a harsh laugh. “Not without a necromancer.”

“He—he’s dead? How? No, just tell me. What was he like? Did he figure it all out? Did someone help him?”

“You want to know about Expisco half-demons? About yourself?” He stepped toward me. “Let me tell you about—”

Griffin staggered back, then collapsed to the floor. I wheeled to see Karl wiggling his fingers as if checking for damage. It took a moment to realize he must have clocked Griffin, the punch so fast I hadn’t seen it.

I turned to stare stupidly at Griffin, lying unconscious across the doorway.

“Whoops,” Karl said. “Benicio won’t be happy about that. But I did warn him. No sudden moves. As long as he’s out, though, no need to hang around.”

He grabbed me around the waist and swung me over Griffin into the hall. I took one last look at the fallen Ferratus.

“Is your hand—?” I began.

“Just fine. The trick, apparently, is to hit them before they see it coming.”

LUCAS: 12

“THEY’RE ON THE FOURTH FLOOR,” the guard said. “They went down about ten minutes ago.”

I thanked him and headed for the elevators. Any would do. The fourth was staff level, meaning a simple card swipe or key code would allow us access.

As the car slowed, I stepped forward, waited for the doors to part and found myself nose to nose with Karl Marsten.

He had his arm around Hope, supporting her. Her face was drawn, and as her bleary eyes lifted to mine, she seemed to take a moment to recognize me.

I looked behind Karl. “Where’s Griffin?”

“Taking a nap.”

I must have looked alarmed, because he added, “I only knocked him out. But the man definitely needs to work on his people skills.”

“And William?” Paige asked.

Karl’s acerbity gave way to a look of genuine regret and he said gruffly, “I’m sorry, Lucas.”

“Someone shot him before we got here,” Hope whispered.

“Probably long before. The logs showed the elevator coming down a couple hours ago.”

I thought I’d prepared myself for this. Hope went on, saying that she’d seen a vision of his death and that he’d been killed by someone he seemed to know, that he’d been getting a file and commenting on his killer working overtime.

Carlos…

“I can go back,” she said. “I’ll try again and maybe pick up more.”

“No,” Karl said. She shot him a look, not too tired to resent him speaking for her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Karl’s right,” Paige said. “You need to get some rest.” As he bustled Hope onto the elevator, Paige murmured, “I’m sorry for putting her through this.”