“Explain,” she said flatly.

I exhaled in a rush. “Blue Smoke was a plan Rigel hatched to steal something from the security guild Cerberus. It’s an artifact that can amplify psychic magic.”

“An artifact?” she muttered.

“Before the heist, Rigel hired Maggie to create a hidden vault in his office where he could store the stolen artifact. That was her role in Blue Smoke.”

“Wait. Does that mean the artifact is in this vault? Right now?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure. Maggie is the only person still alive who knows how to get into the vault, and Quentin got to her before we did. When I escaped with her”—Lienna’s glare quadrupled in meanness, and I suppressed a wince—“she ran straight to Quentin. He’s convinced her that they’re madly in love.”

Lienna’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she absorbed all that. “So you found this out when you talked to Maggie, then sat on the information for three days? Why are you coming to me now?”

“I only found out about the stolen artifact early this afternoon and realized what it meant. I came to you as soon as I could. I was sort of unconscious until a couple hours ago.”

“Unconscious? What happened?”

“Not important.” I loosened my grip on her wrists. “Lienna, I know I was a selfish ass, but I couldn’t face possible execution. I’m back now because—”

“Execution?” she interrupted disbelievingly. “You thought you might be executed? For a few counts of fraud?”

“Sixty-one charges, Lienna. Of which a large portion aren’t even legit, according to you. They levied those charges to scare me. I’m betting they put me in a cell with a serial killer to scare me even more. I don’t know who has it out for me or why, but if they’ve already filed excessive charges against me, who’s to say they won’t give me an excessive sentence?”

She opened her mouth but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“How could I risk it?” I asked quietly. “I had no one to defend me. I was at their mercy.”

She caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“I came back because Quentin is going to make Maggie open that vault, and he’s going to take that artifact, and he’s going to use it. And when he does, it’ll make the riot he caused in the precinct look like a toddler brawl in a daycare.”

She drew in a deep breath, and I pretended not to notice her chest pressing into mine.

“Okay. Okay, yes, we need to stop Quentin. Do you know where to find him?”

“The vault is in Rigel’s secret Blue Smoke office, and Quentin should be there by 9:15.”

Her eyes popped with alarm. “You mean tonight? Why 9:15?”

“The sun sets at 9:15, and once the night of the third crescent moon begins, he can open the vault.”

“I see.” She twisted her wrists. “Let me go, Kit.”

I released her arms and stepped back, oddly cold now that I wasn’t pressed against her warmth. Her hand dipped into her back pocket and she pulled out her phone. The screen lit up, the time stamped across it.

8:45 p.m.

We had thirty minutes to reach the vault and stop Quentin from opening it.

Any hope that we’d beaten Quentin to the fire-damaged office was extinguished the moment it came into view. Lights glowed from the hollow windows and burnt gaps in the walls.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Lienna nodded tersely. The short drive hadn’t been a chatty one. I’d spent most of it expanding on what I’d learned and how best to deal with Quentin. She kept gripping her cat’s eye necklace as though to ensure it was still there—or maybe wishing she could activate it. I’d warned her to save the spell for when she got near Quentin.

I really wished she had a spare one for me, because I wasn’t looking forward to getting within Quentin’s range. I knew what he could do, and it was never a fun time.

Lienna parked in a shadowed lot half a block away, and we cautiously approached the lit-up building. Male voices rumbled from the interior, and I glanced worriedly at Lienna. Had Quentin brought backup?

Not good, because we had no backup. Another of my recommendations: Quentin’s super-rage miasma made him too dangerous. With a high enough dose of hateful fury, allies could turn on one another.

We scaled the fence and crept toward the door. I peeked inside, then jerked back, mouth hanging in disbelief. Lienna leaned past me to scan the interior.

“Who are all those people?” she whispered in alarm. “You said it would be just Quentin and Maggie!”

“I … uh … I may have miscalculated.”

Gulping, I peered inside again.

The burnt interior was well lit by several electric lanterns set on the floor. Shadows flickered over the charred walls as an assortment of ugly, greasy, grizzly mythics moved about with purpose.

In their center was a tall, slender, angular man with straight black hair down to his elbows.

“Keep searching,” he commanded in his thin voice. “It’s here somewhere.”

As several grunts answered him, I retreated from the doorway and rubbed my hands over my face. Shit, shit, shit. Faustus didn’t waste any freakin’ time, did he? He was supposed to be having an artifact sale tonight, not following up on my tip about the Cerberus theft!

Unless he’d canceled the auction because Vera and I had stolen most of the spells he’d been planning to hock. And now he was on the hunt for the vault.

“So, um …” I flicked a glance at Lienna. “Have you ever heard of Faustus Trivium?”

She’d pulled out her phone and was typing furiously. “No?”

“He’s an artifact dealer with a gang of hairy ape-minions, who I may or may not have tipped off about the Blue Smoke vault and the artifact inside it.”

She looked up in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“I was attempting not to die. Speaking of which, Faustus really wants to kill me.”

Her thumbs flew across her phone screen, then she shoved the device in her pocket and pulled out her wooden Rubik’s Cube. “We need to get to that vault. It’s 9:05. We only have ten minutes before Quentin can open it.”

And once he had that artifact, we—and anyone else who tried to stop him—would be helpless against his magnified power. But we couldn’t just charge in there. Vera and I had barely escaped Faustus and his men this afternoon. Round Two would be even worse.

Lienna twisted her cube, aligning different runes. The light leaking from the office cast harsh shadows over her terse expression. “I can’t hold off that many mythics at once, and if they—”

“Oy!”

We whipped around. From the far corner of the building, a familiar mustache in a security guard uniform scurried toward us with his hand on his holster. Trevor Eggert. The old man in a young man’s body who’d interrupted us the last time we’d been here.

“What do you think you’re do—”

“Shh!” Lienna and I hissed vehemently.

His angry approach faltered. “It’s you two again. Why—”

“Quiet!” Lienna snapped in a whisper.

“What’re you doing, Eggsy?” I demanded in a low tone. “You shouldn’t be here.”