We passed a few late night stragglers and waitstaff, but otherwise the lobby was pretty quiet. Once in the elevator, I hit the button for the last floor, doublechecking all my weapons again in an effort to calm myself and prepare as the whir of the elevator cables mixed with the solid drum of my heart. My eyes remained fixed on the numbers as they rose, my finger tapping my thigh.

Finally the elevator stopped and I angled through the half-open door, impatient to get moving. My cell vibrated. Pen. “Did you see him?”

“Candles and sarcophagus on the rooftop. No sign of our guy.”

“Your word that you’ll await my signal.”

“I gave my word the first time you called.” The phone clicked.

I shoved it back on my hip and climbed the flight of stairs that led to the rooftop and the entryway to an enormous glass-built arboretum that covered most of the rooftop in an upside down L-shape. The remaining space was a large outdoor terrace. The doors were locked; nothing a low nitro blast into the lock couldn’t fix. Gently I used my shoulder to break the lock, wanting to be as quiet as possible.

Hank went in first, followed by Killian, Orin, and then me.

The arboretum opened up into a two-story-high jungle, a maze of plants and trees of every size and color. Condensation misted the glass, and dripped in places, making the air wet and humid. Stone walkways created meandering paths into the darkness of the indoor forest. The artificial sun lights hanging from the rafters had been turned off and the only light that remained came from a few small ground lights along the paths.

The arboretum was a serious ongoing project dedicated to cultivating and growing plants from all three worlds, but it was also designed to be enjoyed. Benches and chairs, hammocks and gazebos were hidden in nooks along the paths and enjoyed by guests and visitors of the tower. But tonight it smelled like tar and darkness. The jinn were here. And someone had left a door to the outside open.

I pulled my Hefty and advanced as I felt the telltale change in air that told me the nymphs had shifted into their animal form and begun the hunt. Hank went to the left, and I took the small path in the center that curved around and disappeared in the jungle.

Through the glass, I could see the hazy outline of the terrace, which would easily accommodate four of my bungalows. There were tables, chairs, lounge areas, and a large pergola heavy with some kind of blooming vine.

I eased my way down my chosen path, my skin already becoming slick in the damp air. The flutter of wings brought my chin up. Canaries and songbirds perched in the rafters and on the limbs of tall, leafy trees. I continued farther and farther down until I felt lost in this artificial rain forest.

As I rounded another flowing curve, light crept up the path.

Candlelight.

I went slowly, sweaty fingers flexing on the hilt of my weapon while my other hand shoved my hair, the roots of which had become damp, behind my ear.

The soft yellow light led me to a round grotto with a fountain built against the wall and a pool curving out in a half circle, the water partly covered in blooming lilies. A few chairs sat on the flagstone floor with a small table between them, facing the fountain. To my left, the path continued to a wide set of French doors leading out to the terrace. The doors were open, sending a breeze into the grotto.

The candles made a path through the open door and onto the terrace.

He was here.

And he was waiting.

The door frame was covered in some type of leafy purple vine. I ducked under, shielding my aura—at least that was starting to become second nature—and easing slowly outside.

The breeze was heavier out here, less humid and a welcome relief from the jungle I’d just passed through. The flames of the candles flicked and sputtered, but stayed lit as I followed their path to a spot near the far end of the terrace, where five figures stood over a familiar agate sarcophagus.

Llyran was easy to spot, in the center, his red hair waving in the breeze, rustling in tune with the ends of his black tunic and loose black pants. Flanking both sides of him were two figures, each dressed in hooded black cloaks similar to the one Bryn had been wearing when we found her worshipping the tomb.

I paused, my left hand coming up to cradle my right as I trained the Hefty on Llyran’s back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hank easing up along one side of the arboretum glass. I gestured toward our target. There was no way Llyran would be able to handle a double shot of high frequency sound waves going through his sensitive system, at least not for a few minutes. And that was all the time we needed.

Hank and I fired within a half second of each other.

In a blur of speed, one of the hooded figures hooked his elbow around Llyran’s and spun, shielding the Adonai. The tags sank into the stranger’s chest, pinning the black fabric against the skin. A breeze of disappointment went through me as the figure pulled each tag out with black leather gloves, flicking them away like a mere nuisance.

Obviously our new friend was not Elysian.

I whipped my left hand back and drew the Nitro-gun, both weapons now trained in front of me. I fired a shot of nitro set to hard stun. The figure ducked and rolled with inhuman speed, my shot grazing the edge of the sarcophagus.

The nymphs struck, each taking a target and going down in a melee of black fabric, fur, and growls.

Llyran recovered and was already lifting his hands toward the darkness above, calling it down, when Hank aimed to fire again. A cloaked figure sped toward him. “Hank!” I yelled to warn him, but another stranger popped up in front of me and shoved a hard palm into my sternum.

Pain stole my breath as the force of the blow sent me backpedaling, weapons flying from my hands and clattering somewhere behind me. My attacker pressed the advantage, immediately engaging in hand-to-hand as the scent of tar tickled my nose and bright violet eyes glowed from within the blackness of the hood.

Jinn warrior. But tall and slim, not as bulky as the males. Female. Grigori’s personal guard, I’d bet my life on it. He and Llyran were obviously in this together; two beings with common causes. Llyran had the ring, Grigori had the star.

I was on the defensive so fast it was hard to keep up, hard to regroup, gain the upper hand. I blocked several moves in quick succession.

Duck. Punch. Block. Kick.

With every move, I took a step back. My heart rate was now insane, adrenaline masking each blunt hit and block. I didn’t have a chance to reach for my secondary weapons. I couldn’t take my focus off her for a split second. It was a dance, one I wouldn’t be able to keep up with for long. Act. React. Always thinking two or three steps ahead, a confrontation that kept me from even attempting to pull up my powers.

And then in my peripheral vision, I saw it.

A shaft of predawn light, breaking through a hole in the withdrawing darkness and bathing the terrace in a soft blue glow.

It was enough to distract both me and my opponent.

Llyran’s hands were still lifted skyward. Wind whipped around him as the darkness above him continued to part, spreading open in a wide circle to reveal a serene violet sky amid the sounds of fighting.

I sensed movement, but it was too late to block my attacker’s next blow. Still I put my hands up to block, catching a brief glimpse of my opponent’s open palm, head dipped as gray powder was blown into my face.

Honeysuckle blossomed in the air. I gasped, involuntarily.

Ash.

My hand flew to my mouth and nose, even though I’d already sucked it into my lungs. Immediately, the rapture began to run through my system. I raised my fist to take a swing, but my cloaked nemesis crouched low, swiped out a leg, and swept me off my feet. My skull cracked hard against the stone floor. Heat and pain exploded through the back of my head as I landed shoulders and head first. The pain didn’t last long, though, quickly replaced by the wondrous effects of ash as the faint traces of dawn spread out above me.