Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Nothing.” His gaze flicked to Jenks, giving him a respectful nod. “But if you were, I’d tell you that you’re doing the right thing.” He turned the wheel and pulled to the curb. “I can’t get any closer. Sorry.”

            I frowned out the side window, suddenly reluctant. We were at the commons, the strip of town houses looking onto the open green space that dropped gently to the Twin Lakes Footbridge and the overlook beyond. It was usually a pleasant place to play Frisbee or have a sunny picnic, but now? It was a mess, the open space filled with angry people. Buses and cars lined the one-way drive all the way to the lookout. Hastily made, hand-lettered signs had been raised as if it was a primary, each one with a different pack tattoo on it to collect everyone in their factions.

            Feeling the crush already, I hung the finding amulet around my neck.

            “You going to keep wearing it?” Jenks asked, but he was looking at the chakra ring on my finger, not the amulet, and I nodded, thinking it worth the risk. Yes, it had been made with dark magic and could, in theory, be used that way again, but it also blocked Parker from simply cursing me, and I wasn’t going to give it up.

            “Only you and I know what it is,” I said as I made a fist. “Thanks for the ride,” I added as I reached for my wallet.

            “Hey, is that Mrs. Sarong?” Jenks said, and I winced, recognizing the short woman with her small, pale features and wisps of gray in her otherwise jet-black hair. The owner of the Hollows baseball team was an island of class amid the chaos, her bevy of pretty boys keeping everyone back. Mrs. Sarong had never liked me after I magicked her field to force her to make good on an agreement, and I wasn’t sure which side of the Parker fence she might be on. She hadn’t had any beef with David, but the slim older woman had sided with Constance to kill me not four months ago in the name of keeping the peace. It hadn’t even been a real game, either.

            “And the news vans,” I said with a sigh. They’d pulled up right onto the grass. Grimacing, I opened my wallet. There were two nervous people with a tiny dog waiting, their intent obvious.

            “No charge.” The cabbie cleared his meter, grinning. “I like the way things are. Hue is a good alpha. You’re going to help him, right?”

            I reached for the door. “If he lets me. Thank you.”

            The noise hit me as I got out, a low thrum that went to the pit of my soul—like fear given sound. I took a breath, jerking out of the way when the people with the dog rushed the car, diving in to claim it before slamming the door shut. “Thanks!” I said again, and the cabbie waved out the window as he drove off. Humans. What were they thinking, trying to walk their dog in this?

            “Hey, Jenks,” I said as a wizard-painted van took the cab’s place and eight heavily tattooed people piled out. “Can you find David or Cassie for me in this?”

            “On it,” he said, darting straight up into the late, cloud-ridden afternoon.

            It was windy, and I pulled my jacket closer as I took a moment to shoot David—or Cassie, maybe—a text that I was here. I felt alone as I stood on the sidewalk, out of place amid the tattooed, pierced, leather-wearing people. You could still move down here, but the closer you got to the bridge, the heavier the mob, and the more crowded it was.

            I.S. cruisers were already aligning themselves at the outskirts, towing the cars at the curb and replacing them with fire trucks and ambulances. Three FIB cruisers were across the street in a parking lot, their occupants wisely staying where they were, standing on top of their cars with binoculars to watch what they dare not step into. I doubted very much that anyone here had put in for a gather permit, but clearly the city’s police forces were going to wait and see.

            Jenks could find me in a dust storm on Mars, so I took a deep breath and plunged in. The green glow of the finding amulet had become more pronounced, but I didn’t need magic to tell me Parker was at the center of this. Trudging forward, I worked my way through the generally shorter Werefolk. I got maybe thirty feet before it became obvious that I was being noticed. Heads were turning and conversations became silent as I passed. Some of the looks were welcoming, some not, and I moved my splat gun to a front pocket.

            The rasping of pixy wings gave me scant warning before Jenks dropped down. “Found him,” he said, landing on my hastily raised hand. “He’s at Al’s ley line. Cassie, too.”

            “Of course they are,” I muttered, tucking the amulet behind my shirt. It was only making it more obvious that I didn’t belong. “Parker?”