“Stop!” Vegard yelled.

I didn’t stop, but I didn’t get away from him, either. I’d just lifted a stage; he hadn’t.

He stopped me with a hand on my arm. I noticed that it was a very respectful hand, no hard grip.

“I’m going after him.” My strength was coming back, and my rage had never left me. “I’m a seeker. I can track the bastard.”

Vegard hesitated, clearly torn between duty and getting his hands on Banan Ryce.

“Go.” His voice was more growl than words. “We’ve got your back.”

I didn’t stop to ask who besides Vegard had my back. I assumed it was Riston and Phaelan. Truth was, I didn’t care. I’d have gone after Banan Ryce alone. It wouldn’t have been smart, but I was too angry to worry about smarts and my own safety right now.

The square was chaos. Wading through a crowd of panicked people was bad enough, but multiply that times ten when those people were magic users. They were scared, they were angry, and they were looking to protect themselves. The magical distortion from their shields should have negated any tracking I could do. It didn’t. Banan Ryce’s magical scent rode the air. Time to remind the bastard just how good a seeker I was, new powers or not.

I tracked Banan to a side street that was little more than an alley. He wasn’t trying to hide; he was trying to run. I didn’t blame him. You didn’t try to kill that many people and hang around for kudos.

“Wait,” Vegard told me. He scanned the crowd over my head. “Jori!” he bellowed.

Moments later, a young Guardian pushed his way through the crowd to us. His eyes were borderline panicked. “Sir Vegard, what happened? Who—”

“Later,” Vegard yelled over the screaming and shouting people surging around us.

The kid had a crossbow. He didn’t look old enough to use it. I was, and better yet, I had a target. I didn’t need magic to take out Banan Ryce.

“I need your bow,” I told him.

The young Guardian looked to Vegard.

“Give it to her,” Vegard ordered. “And your bolts, too.”

He obeyed. Vegard was getting downright handy to have around.

“Riston and Captain Benares are somewhere behind us,” Vegard told him. “Find them and tell them we’ve gone in there.” He jerked his head toward the alley. “We want backup.”

The young man’s eyes went wide. “Benares?”

“Yes, that Captain Benares,” Vegard barked. “Get over it.”

“Yes, sir. Over it, sir. I’ll find Sir Riston.”

Vegard and I crossed the street and stopped with our backs against the wall leading into the alley. I knew Banan had stopped somewhere in that alley. I could feel him. Turning that corner just might get our heads blown off.

“How many ways out of that alley?” I asked Vegard.

“One exit, one courtyard.”

I somehow knew Banan wasn’t going for the exit. “He’s in the courtyard waiting for something, and I don’t think it’s us.”

Vegard drew his ax off his back. His hands and the ax blade flickered with blue fire. Now that’s what I called backup.

I checked around the corner. The alley was empty. We went in. The entrance to the courtyard was about halfway down the alley.

The heat from two furnaces against the far wall hit us head-on. Leaning against walls and lying on tables were mirrors in various stages of completion. There were piles of sand for making them, and crates for shipping them.

A mirror factory. Just my kind of place.

Some of the mirrors were man height. They could have been mirrors to admire yourself in, or they could be an exit for Banan—or an entrance for his backup. I hated mirrors.

Mirror magic took a lot of discipline and a lot of concentration, and could make a lot of trouble if the mage were so inclined. Mirror mages could use mirrors to translocate people, manifest creatures, or move objects from one place to another. Then there was the spying and peeking that could be done from any bespelled and unwarded mirror. I was sure there were perfectly moral mirror mages—I just hadn’t met any.

Banan was there and he wasn’t alone. He could never resist leaving a crime scene without a souvenir. In this case, his souvenir was also a hostage.

She was young, blond, and terrified. From her age and the simple robes she wore, she was probably a student.

As leader of the Nightshades, Banan had spent a lot of time outdoors and looked it. His dark hair and tanned face were a startling contrast to his pale green eyes. He was rugged, he was handsome, and he knew it. He also fancied himself a ladies’ man. Unfortunately the ladies he fancied didn’t always fancy him back, and that was just the way Banan liked it. Murder was his job; rape was what he did for fun.

Banan didn’t look concerned in the least to see himself on the business end of my crossbow. “Ah, Raine, you found us. I should have known you would sniff me out. You were magnificent back there. You performed just as I’d expected—and as my clients were promised. Everybody’s happy.”

The bastard had set me up. Someone wanted to see what I could do, and Banan had set up the audition.

“Well, almost everybody.” Banan’s grin was crooked. He thought it was charming. “My two targets survived, didn’t they?”

“They did.”

The elf shrugged. “Well, if at first you don’t succeed…”

I pushed down the urge to pull the trigger. The girl was too close to Banan for comfort, either mine or hers. The urge didn’t go without a fight. That was fine; I didn’t plan to keep it locked down for long. As soon as I could get her out of my line of fire, I’d give Banan a performance I could be proud of. I’d even put a little magical something extra on the tip of the bolt that’d slice through his shields like hot butter.

I gazed down the bolt’s shaft. I had a gratifyingly clear shot at the space between Banan’s green eyes. He pulled the girl tighter against him. Vegard growled low in the back of his throat, and his magic clawed the air with the sound. Banan ignored him, all of his attention on me. He didn’t consider Vegard much of a threat. His mistake.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use the Saghred?” Banan taunted me.

“I only use the rock against big trouble. You don’t make my list.” I kept my concentration where it belonged—on the sweet spot between Banan’s eyes. “Let her go.”

The elf smiled. “Not going to happen.”

I held the crossbow steady; my finger tightened on the trigger. “Never hurts to ask first.”

A familiar fire bloomed in the center of my chest. Fire to consume Banan Ryce, and anyone who might step out of a mirror to help him. The fire and the Saghred’s power that fed it blazed under my breastbone, white-hot and raging. Just call it, came the whispered impulse in my mind. The power was mine for the taking. I shoved down the fire and the impulse. I swallowed them hard and held them down. The fire flickered and writhed, trying to get around my will. I pressed harder and it stopped. The tip of the crossbow bolt wavered.

Banan saw it and laughed.

“You want the power—and I know you want me.” His voice was low, compelling. “Put down the crossbow and take me, Raine. Like you have a choice.”

The fire had diminished to a warm, soft glow, a harmless glow, a glow that only wanted to help me protect the girl. Just to help. Help me. My hands were sweating.

The Saghred was talking to me inside my head. That was impossible. The Saghred was spellbound, under guard, and under lock and key.

Only as long as you want it to be.

It wasn’t a whisper; it wasn’t even a voice. It was the truth. If I willed it, the Saghred would shake off its bindings and destroy Banan Ryce.

Banan faded into the background; so did Vegard and the girl. It was just me and the Saghred. The fire burned and the temptation grew. I clenched my jaw against them both. I would not be used.

My finger tightened on the trigger.

A flash of reflected mirror light blinded me.