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“Upsetting? My partner could be dead right now because you’re wasting my time with this bullshit. Upsetting doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling.”

I take a threatening step forward, and the magician’s shield crackles. Smoke rises from my clothes to burn my nose, but my rings flare, and their warm, sweet magic engulfs me. The shield sparks lightning and the Magician scowls. Hobbs. That’s the cunt’s name.

I growl, “Out of my way.”

Hobbs’ gray eyes flick over me, and she assesses her odds. I don’t have time for this. Usually, I would back away and try a different, sneakier method, but that would take time, and time is not on my side today. Tor and I are in deep shit. All the evidence the Magistrate has been trying to get their hands on since Tori opened business is fighting them in broad daylight.

Tori was right. This is Dimitar’s revenge against us. There’s one thing in this whole world Tori loves more than anything else, and it’s Peripetia. It doesn’t matter if the smuggling is useful to him, Dimitar would rather scorch-earth their alliance than permit the insult to stand.

I hoped we had more time before it came to this. There’s no way we can go back to the way things were. We’ll have to flee the city and start over.

However, that does mean there’s no reason to be careful while we’re already knee-deep in shit.

My rings click together as I weigh my options. I could take Hobbs. My rings could find a way to break her amulet, then her wand will take care of her for me. I’ll admit I’m not sure how quickly an Entropy wand will devour the wielder’s soul, but I’m betting it’s fast.

But there are Magistrate officers crawling all over the place. I can’t risk being overwhelmed and subdued. Perhaps, a sneakier attack…

Tiny, thin threads slide along my palms to follow my body beneath my clothes. They slip out of my pants leg to slither unseen along the cobblestone cracks to the shop door. Hobbs senses something. She scans me rapidly, trying to puzzle it out. I smirk, head tilting down. Sweat shines along her face.

At least my reputation within the Guild is as strong as ever.

There are three grimoires within those stacks that aren’t imprisoned within Astoria’s vault that really should be. A little failsafe in case everything went to shit like it is right now. My sweet Torment is vicious like that. She made sure her nasty books would slaughter anyone who tried to steal her inventory.

The Magistrate’s officers are oblivious to the kind of cursed hell that is awaiting them. Jagger is too busy trying to deescalate the situation, but Hobbs locks eyes with me. She doesn’t break our intense staring match as if she can puzzle out my next move through my pupils. I don’t blink, don’t change my expression, as my threads slide up the three steps to the main shop floor. They rise up a few inches to wiggle like juicy, glowing worms. Magic radiates from them, the kind grimoires love to feast on.

Here kitty, kitty, kitty.

My fingers twitch. Hobbs’ gaze is drawn to the movement, and her head tilts down when she catches the tiny glint of the threads. My smile widens. She gasps, shifting back, but it’s too late.

A rasp, like pages ripping, whispers through the street.

My threads retract, the ends whipping up to smack into the back of Hobbs’ skull. The force of it knocks her hat off to reveal the raw, open sigils that will never fully heal. My threads sear into one of them. Her mouth stretches in a silent scream, blood pouring down her shaved scalp as my rings tingle with the surge of magic from the inflamed sigils.

A beast bursts from the shop, widening the doorway in a spray of woodchips and brick shards. Four legs that are more like curved blades crack the streets as the creature slams into the daylight. Its face is like a jungle cat’s, with black pits for eyes, its body plated with pages of the book it’s made from. The heart of the creature is the wide-open spine of the grimoire. Black ink drips from its open maw and pieces of another grimoire fall to the ground in a wet splat.

The grimoire was created by a Transformation weaver who was burned alive for her sins against humanity. Tor would not shut up about this story for months and then isolated herself in her vault to study the thing for weeks. I had to bribe Jinx to give me updates to make sure she was still alive down there.

Fire sprays from magician tokens, but the beast shakes its body. The rustle of book pages mixes with the sound of rain as water sprays forth from the shredded paper that resembles fur. The fire douses on impact. Fear ripples through the magicians. I crack my neck and loosen my shoulders. Good luck with that thing, fuckers.

The soggy book slams its blade arms into the ground with another earth-shattering shriek. Then its black eyes swivel to land on me. My rings deactivate, and that disturbing gaze drops to Hobbs instead, and the magic radiating from her scalp. It charges, paper jaws spread wide to show rows and rows of very real spiral teeth. I dive to the side as Hobbs lashes her wand towards the grimoire.

I hit the ground in a roll and launch back up into a sprint. The officers leap into action to save Hobbs, and the static of magic crackles through the air. The wet sound of slicing flesh and a sick, unknown gurgling combines with the clack of blades on stone. My back prickles with the awareness of the creature, and cold sweat drips down my spine. I don’t dare activate my rings, even if it would make me move faster. The last thing I need is to draw the creature towards me when it’s doing a great job at keeping the Magistrate’s officers busy. Grimoires feed off of magical energy, and my rings are potent sources of it.

The books crawling along the ruined doorway hiss at my approach and launch towards me. I dodge, spinning and rolling until I skid through the shop’s entrance. The books descend, like angry crows flapping their wings. I smack a few away to jump up the three steps.

My breath catches. Holy fucking shit. The shop is in chaos. The mortal front’s standard non-magical books are torn to pieces, a few smaller spell books fighting over an encyclopedia to rip into some sort of nest. Worse, there’s blood all over the ground. Ice-cold fear drenches me in sweat, my body swaying with the force of it as my mind spins.

Oh fuck, Tor⁠—

But realization hits me fast. My jaw unclenches and shoulders slump. That’s old blood from last night. I scrape my hands over my face when a book bites my leather jacket. It growls like a dog with a bone, but it doesn’t have the power to crack through Tor’s enchantments on it. I smack it off and kick it away before dodging another.

Frowning, I mentally check off my list. Made it into the shop? Done. Find Torment? Pending. Avoid the three books that will ruin my day? One down, two to go. Get the bolt packs under the floorboards…

I eye the front counter where a gang of nasty-looking spell books with dripping fangs eye my soul hungrily. There’s no way in hell I can take on the monsters, pull up the floorboards to get the packs, and keep all my fingers. What I need is a partner so one of us can keep the books at bay and the other can get our provisions. They’ll be essential for our new life on the run. I made sure we would have everything we could ever need in them.

A flash in my vision has me spinning in time to punch a book to the ground. I shake out my hand and lunge back with a “WOAH” when another takes advantage of my distraction. These little bastards are everywhere. I need to figure out if Tori is here and fast.

Against my own sense of self-preservation, I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, “TOR!”