Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “This might be a problem,” I whispered as Al dragged me across the bridge, and then Walter turned as if hearing me.

            “Parker! She’s here!” came his faint shout, the Were’s eyes never leaving mine. His sharp whistle cut through the noise, and my worry grew as he began stripping in preparation to Were.

            The chopper was long gone, but the I.S. didn’t like being shot at, and the slick-looking vamp officers had moved to the outskirts to give their spell-toting peers room to work. Six witches in bulky anti-charm gear had gathered in a small knot at the statue of Romulus and Remus in front of us, probably prepping the spell to make a large, field-wide circle to contain the Weres in one go. At least, that’s what I would have done.

            “Rachel?” David sounded worried. “I’m on my way. Stay on the phone. Tell me what’s happening. Are you close enough to see their pack tattoos?”

            I heard a horn beep through the phone, but I think Cassie was driving, her unique, Australian-accented swearing faint in the background. “No, and most of them are in fur,” I said, stumbling as Al led me off the bridge and to the ley line. “David, the I.S. is here, and no one is backing down. You need to hurry.”

            “Rachel?” Al drawled lightly. “You may want to put the phone down and engage.”

            “I am engaging,” I snapped, freezing when I looked up to see a tall, blond figure standing amid the wolf pack like a shepherd minding his murderous flock. “Oh,” I murmured as self-preservation tightened my gut. He was wearing an elaborate spelling robe, and a faint haze of gathered power wreathed him. He wasn’t a Were.

            Walter has himself a magic user? Great. How, by the Turn, did he convince a magic user to help him get the focus? Worried, I glanced at the witchy I.S. agents moving out—two to the right, two to the left, and one, the most powerful, standing where he was . . . staring at me as if this was my fault. “David, I have to go.”

            “You told me Morgan wouldn’t be here,” the robed figure was shouting, clearly ticked, and the woman beside Walter bristled, clearly not liking being yelled at. Her multiple tattoos put her as being a Were. Parker, maybe, seeing as Walter had called for her before he’d shifted. The age-silvered wolf lurching to his feet at her side was probably Walter himself.

            “Rachel . . .” David said, and then I closed out my phone and tucked it in my back pocket. Not only was the guy in the overdone spelling robes clearly a magic user, but he knew who I was.

            “I can’t fight her and Hue’s influence both,” the magic user said as the Weres continued to taunt the I.S. agents, their teeth a clear warning. “Keep her busy.”

            David, I thought, my pulse quickening. Crap on toast, Walter was after the focus. I would have said even an independently united pack of alphas wouldn’t be able to best the citywide obedience that David wielded with the focus, but with a magic user to help him, it might be possible. And here I am, bringing David right into it, I thought as I scanned the street running the length of the park, both dreading and wanting to see his little gray sports car. I had to warn him even if his presence might scatter the alphas and put an end to this.

            “Interesting,” Al murmured as he twirled his cane. “Whoever that is out there, he is trying very hard to look like an elf.”

            “He’s disguised?” I blurted, squinting at the robed man arguing with the two Weres, one in fur, the other not. He was blond and trim, and now that Al had mentioned it, his voice, while having that musical cadence that most elves had, was also somewhat hollow—a sure giveaway for having been spelled. Even so, it was a very expensive disguise charm. Doppelganger spells were legal around the week before Halloween, and finding out who this was through store records wouldn’t be easy.

            Walter’s lips pulled from his muzzle in an ugly snarl, the militant Were clearly not liking whatever the man was saying, his robe’s sleeves furling dramatically as he talked. “Keep her busy, or you don’t get Hue!” the man said as Parker began to strip. “I can’t make it any simpler!”

            Livid, the big gray wolf barked at him.

            “You think I have a clue what you are saying?” the man said, his hands now dripping a purplish red magic. And then he turned to Al and me. “Fine. Ladies first.”

            “Look out!” I yelped as I shoved Al, knocking us both down as I invoked a protection circle. I hit the ground hard, the flats of my arms stinging as energy from the nearby ley line poured into me. The dizzying, roaring maelstrom bubbled and frothed over my singed synapses instead of the smooth rush it should have been, but my circle formed and held.