“Like finding where Varvara is hiding.”

“What makes you think she’s in Vancouver? She could be anywhere.”

“Unless I’m very wrong, she’s been consolidating her influence here since I left.” He paused at a dark intersection, two streetlamps broken and the windows of the featureless buildings boarded up. “You and the Miura woman talked about a lull in crime.”

I followed him across the road, ignoring the crosswalk’s “don’t walk” light. We were so bad. “Yeah, the lull has all the guilds stumped.”

“It isn’t a mystery—not to rogues. The Yamadas know what’s going on. Miura said they’re making preparations.”

“Preparations for what?”

“A power shift. They want to take control of the underground network. Varvara is planning to do the same, and she wants me out of the picture before she makes her move. That’s why she passed information about me to the MPD.”

“She did that? Are you sure?”

“She destroyed my farm to lure me back, then leaked those details to increase my bounty and whet the appetites of bounty hunters. She’s counting on someone catching me before I catch her.”

“It wouldn’t’ve been difficult to figure out you’re a druid and an alchemist from her battle with you last summer, but what about the hundred and something new charges against you? Where’d they come from?”

“My grimoire.” He drew to a halt, staring straight ahead. “That’s what I left in Marara’s tree. Most of it is written in code, but I didn’t bother to code my records of artifacts I’ve acquired, traded, or destroyed.”

I stood beside him, nerves churning. “She gave that information to the MPD? And they used it to tie you to new crimes?”

“I didn’t think she would find the tree. One fir in an entire valley? Even if she knew to look for dryads, there are hundreds.” His hood shifted as he shook his head in frustration. “Now Marara is dead and that bitch has my grimoire. If she cracks my code and gets anything else from it …”

He swept into motion. Rushing after him, I shoved my cold hands in my pockets. My fingers brushed against silky fabric, and I pulled out the folded square of purple he’d retrieved from the dryad tree.

“Why am I carrying this again?” I asked, nose scrunched as I prodded it.

“Do not unfold that.”

I weighed it on my palm. “The Carapace of Valdurna … Didn’t you offer to trade this to that nasty darkfae, the Rat thing?”

“Yes, but I knew he wouldn’t accept it. The point was to start the negotiations off with something impressive and valuable.”

“How valuable are we talking?”

He tapped a gloved finger against the square on my palm. “The only thing more priceless than this, and with a more treacherous power, is probably your demonic artifact.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about the value of the demon amulet. All I cared about was whether it could save Ezra. “What does the Carapace do?”

“It’s a fae-created artifact that makes you invincible.”

I tripped on nothing. Catching myself, I gasped, “I’m sorry, did you say invincible?”

“If you’re wearing that, you can’t die, even if you’re mortally wounded. No magic can affect you and no weapon can touch you.”

If you were wearing it? I cocked my head, trying to imagine what it would look like unfolded.

“Is it a cap?” I asked, flipping it over.

“A cap?”

“Or a glove? A sock? The only other ‘wearable’ thing I can think of that would fold up this small are panties.” I shot him an arch look. “That’s why you aren’t using this artifact right now, isn’t it? You don’t want to wear the Invincibility Panties.”

He made a disgusted noise.

“No one would see that you were wearing them.”

“Powerful magic,” he said loudly, “comes at a commensurate cost. The Carapace’s price is too high for me.”

“What’s the price?”

“All of my magic.”

I stopped dead. He took two more steps, then paused. He touched his inner arm through his sleeve.

“It consumes all magic within and around it. All the magic fae have gifted me would be erased. My artifacts would be wiped clean. My potions would be rendered useless. All my inherent Spiritalis and Arcana magic would be drained, and though that would eventually recover, the rest would be gone forever.”

He waved at me to get moving again. “The cost to fae is even greater, since they have far more magic to lose. The Carapace is powerful, dangerous, and an artifact I would only use if I were about to die.”

“And you’re making me carry it because …”

“Because I can feel its magic and it sets my teeth on edge.”

I grimaced and shoved it back in my pocket. “Where’d you get it?”

“I stole it.”

“From the Wolfsbane Druid,” I murmured. “Your master.”

He kept walking. “Yes.”

“Did you kill your master?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

I rolled my eyes at his “end of conversation” tone. As he rounded a corner, I trotted a few steps to keep up. “Zak?”

“What now?

“Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m checking locations where I can usually find rogue informants, but they’ve all been abandoned so far.” His voice went a little raspier. “Varvara’s been very thorough.”

I dusted my hands together. “Well, guess you’ll have to come back another time. We can go home now.”

“If you want to go, then go.”

“And what, walk through the worst neighborhood in the city, by myself, in the middle of the night, without a single artifact for defense?”

He glanced at me, and I imagined him frowning in his shadowy hood. “I’ll send a varg with you.”

“Your vargs are here? How? Echo only carried the two of us.”

“My vargs,” he said, taking another corner—this time into a very dark alley, “have finally found some mythics, so I can spare one to make sure you get home safely.”

And miss out on the fun now that he was going to question someone? I folded my arms. “Nah, I’ll stick around.”

He growled under his breath.

I peered around Zak at the overflowing dumpsters and drifts of garbage. The air reeked of moldy food and piss. “This is gross.”

He swung his arm out to block my path and I walked into it. “Wait here. I’m known for operating alone. You’ll be a distraction.”

I rolled my eyes again. “Fine.”

He strode deeper into the alley. I watched him go, counting down in my head. When he was almost out of sight, I tiptoed after him. Yeah, he’d told me to stay out of it, but I could at least sneak in close enough to watch.

The alley was unusually long and full of the garbage from the businesses that backed onto it. No lights broke up the darkness, and I had to rely on distant streetlamps and murky light pollution to find my way. The wind calmed as I moved deeper, but the stench worsened. Yuck.

I heard the rogues before I spotted them. Male voices rumbled in low conversation, occasionally joined by a croaky female voice. I stole behind a dumpster and peeked out.

Four men and a woman, smoking and talking, were huddled in a doorway with a single bulb. Scarcely any light leaked from the dim alcove. Dressed in dark clothes, they had the ratty appearance of trashy people who just didn’t care. Two men were big and heavyset, and the larger of the pair had a tattoo on the back of his shaved head. Of the other two, one was average height and one was short. The woman was middle-aged, crack-addict thin, and clutching a jacket that was far too flimsy for the winter chill.

“… almost got roasted,” the big man was grumbling.

“That’s why I bailed,” the smallest man said, twitching his cig uneasily. “Knew better than to take on mages.”

The woman huddled deeper in her oversized coat. “But if it works—”

“It ain’t gonna work. MagiPol will crush this whole thing.” The small man flicked his cigarette into the alley, a glowing speck in the darkness. “But maybe she’ll take the Yamadas down with her, and then there’ll be no one left but us.”

They laughed, the sound an unnerving mix of hope, fear, and bitterness.

I glanced past them, not seeing Zak. That could mean only one thing: it was time for one of the Ghost’s patented dramatic entrances.

Almost on cue, the conversing rogues fell silent. They peered nervously into the shadows, elbowing each other as though hoping someone else would speak. I had no idea what they’d detected, but they already looked scared.

With a swirl of shadow, the Ghost materialized from nothing.

Coat sweeping out, hood full of shadows, dressed head to toe in black. Not even his backpack, slung over one shoulder, could detract from his aura of “holy shit, this dude is bad.”

I almost snorted aloud.

The rogues froze like rabbits, gawking in disbelief. The big guy tried to shrink behind his slightly less massive counterpart.

“Gh-Gh-Ghost,” the woman stammered.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh. Jeez. They were nearly peeing themselves. Zak had done an excellent job beefing up his reputation to terror-inducing levels.

“I just got back into town,” he rumbled, “and it seems I’ve missed some interesting developments. Which of you volunteers to bring me up to speed?”

They exchanged horrified looks, as though he’d asked them to donate their kidneys. And then they bolted.

Two ran farther down the alley while two charged straight toward my hiding spot. I ducked deeper into the shadows, and they rocketed right past me without a glance. The fifth rogue, the short one, flung open the door behind him and dove into the building.