“Yeah, there is some serious danger nearby.” Reagan’s fingers jerked on my shoulder as she turned and looked the other way. “I used to feel like this before I could see through the vampires’ invisible sheets.”

“You can see through those?” Emery asked, his voice calm and breathing even. He was readying for battle. “That must make things easier.”

“Much.”

“Cool, yeah,” I said, picking up the pace. “Invisible sheets, yeah. Is it following us, do you think?” That foreign magic swirled in front of me before moving on to Emery, still exploratory. “It’s sussing us out. Trying to get a read on us, I think. I don’t get vicious intent from it.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t plan to kill us,” Reagan murmured. “Most of them are healers and nature lovers. Peaceful folk. Only a select few get the warrior strand of magic. They don’t go into battle with rage or aggression; they do it with a sense of business economy. And even when they’re on the attack, they keep their finger on the pulse of peace. Or so I have always heard.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” I licked my lips and realized Reagan had been right in that the slow buildup to trouble was the absolute worst. It was better when it came at you quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “We need a plan.”

“The bar is just up ahead. Let’s go in,” Reagan said. “Let’s see if it follows.”

“Christopher Walken’s yoga pants,” I muttered with a tight jaw. I could feel shifter magic pulsing from the bar, claiming it and warning off those looking for trouble. It was probably something that had always been there and I just hadn’t noticed it before, but right now it was not helping keep me calm.

“Christopher Walken’s…yoga pants,” Emery said, pulling the terms apart slowly, like he was examining them.

“Just have Penny swear at our watcher,” Reagan said drolly. “He’ll get annoyed and take off.”

At the door to the bar, I took a deep breath, feeling that pulse of power. Knowing I was bringing in all sorts of trouble, and not wanting an attack from both sides.

“Why did we stop?” Reagan asked, watching the street.

I sucked in a breath and walked in. The layout was the same as it had been on my last visit—tables along the right and a large square bar to the left with an open area in the middle—but everything looked way fresher. New paint, redone bar, and the far side, the gathering area beyond the bar, looked totally new.

“Did he renovate?” I asked, choosing the right side of the bar instead of the more popular and busier area beside the bar.

“Is there a hole in the far side?” Reagan asked as we crossed the threshold as a group.

“No…”

“Then yeah, he renovated.” Her body braced as we eased farther into the bar, probably a preparation in case the watcher would surge in after us.

“Penny, can you feel any magic?” Emery took his forearm out of my grasp and grabbed me instead. He clearly expected some sort of attack, too.

“No,” I said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Though maybe the potent shifter magic is overpowering it.”

“How about mages?” Reagan asked, glancing at Emery before looking to the far side of the bar.

“I only feel shifter magic.” I sorted through all of the various waves of magic meandering around the room. “A bunch of it.”

“As Roger calls in more people, they’ll head toward the shifter bars.” Reagan relaxed slightly, her hand loosening on my shoulder. “This will be a dead giveaway to the Mages’ Guild. Darius better hurry up with that plan, or we’ll have to go in without one.”

I shook my head, but there was no point in arguing with her. She wasn’t the one in charge. Not until she forcefully took over, anyway.

She ran her hand through the air and dissipated the concealment spell around us. Emery tugged on my arm, his eyes on the door, but he headed for the bar counter. “Watch those shadows,” he said, resting his forearm on the wood.

I backed into his body, letting my attention wander and muting most of my senses so I could focus on the magic around me. The strands and playful twists drifting and lingering in the air. It was the way I could help the best.

“Oh hey, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

I recognized that deep, gruff voice. Joe, the shifter bar owner who had given Emery and me shelter when we’d needed it the most. We’d been a danger to him, and he’d done it anyway. He wasn’t the sort to cast aside friends in need.

“No way. Get her out of here,” he yelled.

Unless Reagan was involved…

Peeling an eye open, I found yet more proof of my theory: Reagan and shifters typically did not get along. And now we were going to be thrown out of relative safety, directly into the path of whatever waited for us outside.

14

“Get her out.” Joe flung his finger toward the door as he stalked toward us, thunder clouds on his face as he stared at Reagan. He was a wolf, I remembered, and I felt the call of the forest and the thrill of the hunt as he neared. Similar to Roger, but slightly different from the feel of Red the dog. Huh. I could decipher the differences in shifter animal. I wondered if that mattered.

“Emery, what are you doing messing around with her?” Joe stopped in front of us, and I could see people on the other side of the bar turning and trying to look through the island of liquor bottles to watch the show.

“I’m trying to keep a low profile, bro,” Emery said quietly, his eyes still on the door.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought this chick in here with you.” Joe braced his large hands on the bar. His big arms bulged with muscle, leading up to a wide girth of shoulders and down to a brick of a body. Most shifters were impressively muscled, but Joe was a solid boulder.

“That is highly unfair,” Reagan said, spreading her hands in front of her. “I wasn’t the one that blew up your bar. Guild flunkies picked a fight with me.”

“You blew up the bar?” I asked her.

“Did she blow up the bar…” Joe’s voice rose an octave. People ducked out of the concealment of the back portion of the place and drifted toward the clear area at the end of the bar, emerging to catch the drama. “Yes, she blew up this bar! I just got it fixed up last month. And you want to come back and wreak havoc again?”

“Darius footed you the money while you waited for the insurance to kick in, didn’t he?” Reagan asked. “We took care of it.”

“You okay, Joe?” someone called from the far corner.

“Don’t know. I might need help tossing out some riffraff,” he said. “No offense, Emery, but you should’ve seen this place. She blew the whole side and back half off. That room you use sometimes—oh hi, Penny—well, that was gone. Blown to shit—”

“Yes, but…” Reagan put up a finger, “I would like to take this opportunity to remind you, once again, that a mage blew up your bar. Not me. I was an innocent bystander, like everyone else.”

“An innocent bystander?” Joe’s magic flared. “You pushed those mages to do it. You practically egged them on!”

She crinkled her nose. “I think we’re remembering different events.”

His magic pulsed harder. “You think we’re—”

“Look, look, look, hey, hey—” Emery leaned in and put his hand out between them. Without missing a beat, Reagan took a step back and turned her gaze to the door. There was something to be said for two survivors working together. And then there was me, the square peg. “Ordinarily, I’d get her out of here. You know I would, Joe. But you must know why we’re here.”

Joe took a deep breath, staring at Reagan with anger-heated eyes. “Why is she staring at the door? Who has she got following her this time?”

“Oh, nobody,” she said, her attention not wavering. “Just a druid with an interest in us. No big deal.”

Joe’s face bleached of color. His gaze sought Emery’s. “Is she for real?”

“We didn’t get a glimpse, but I’d bet my life on it,” Emery said, leaning over the bar. “We’re just looking for information. I thought I would check in. Do you have any mages stopping through here anymore?”