I wasn’t sure if he bought it, but for now it would have to do.

“I don’t smell any burned corpses,” Derek said. “Did they take the owner hostage?”

“It’s not their style. They must’ve missed him and burned the stall to make sure I miss him, too.”

Come to think of it, it was a weird location for the stall. Too close to Unicorn Lane. The area was poor, the foot traffic light. I had never seen any other customers there. I was keeping them afloat all by my lonesome.

Derek stopped and inhaled. He was staring at the raggedy blanket where my friend the beggar spent his days.

Derek shook his head and inhaled again.

“What is it?”

“There is no fucking way.”

“What does that mean?”

For a second his flat expression slipped. “I smell a dead man.”

“I don’t see a corpse…”

“I saw the corpse. I saw it eight years ago. I carried his coffin at his funeral.”

The fractured pieces in front of me snapped together. A female broker who disappears into thin air and whom nobody can find. A pirogi stall on the edge of Unicorn Lane that isn’t doing any business except collecting the phone numbers for the broker. The beggar who watches it.

I blinked. The magic trails blossomed in front of me. The filthy blanket where the beggar had sat turned into a dazzling mix of clear human blue and silver shot through with gold.

Son of a bitch.

“Can you track him?”

Derek started forward. “Oh yes. And when I get my hands on him, he’ll wish he fucking stayed dead.”

We jogged down Peachtree Circle, Tulip gleefully keeping pace with us.

“Did other shapeshifters know him?”

“Everyone knew him,” Derek growled.

“Ascanio Ferara had to have walked by his blanket when he came to see me.”

“His blanket is soaked in piss. When you get close, all you can smell is ammonia and mothballs. Most people will take a whiff and give him all the space he needs.”

We rounded a collapsed building and emerged onto my street. My house was a hundred yards ahead.

“He went into Unicorn Lane,” Derek growled.

I slipped back into the sensate vision. The beggar’s trail was a mere wisp, dissipating with every second. Beyond it, Unicorn Lane was a psychedelic rainbow soup of magic, clashing, mixing, boiling.

Derek stopped. I stopped too.

Ahead of us Ascanio walked out from behind my house and gave us a friendly wave.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Wait here,” Derek said. “I’ll handle this.”

“Will you?” Ascanio asked. “Is that a fact?”

He strolled toward us, leisurely, one foot in front of the other. You could almost see the hyena in his movement. Behind him, shapeshifters stepped into the open, from behind my house, from the abandoned building across the street on our right, from the fallen ruin on our left. Nine boudas total, with Ascanio. Crap.

“Mr. Gaunt and I are old friends,” Ascanio purred.

“You don’t have friends, Ascanio,” Derek said. “You have people who are useful to you and people who are not.”

“Awww. You’re trying to hurt my feelings.” A ruby light rolled over Ascanio’s irises. “And I was so looking forward to our reunion.”

Derek raised his hand and flicked his fingers. Five shapeshifters materialized from the buildings on the right, three men and two women. Wolves, all of them, except Zahar, who perched on the heap of rubble directly behind us. Our eyes met, and he winked at me. With Derek, that made six against Ascanio’s nine.

“You’re outnumbered,” Derek said.

Ascanio laughed. “You haven’t changed.”

The two groups fanned out behind their leaders, each shapeshifter sizing up their opponents and picking out targets. This was now bigger than the two of them. If they fought, it would be a bloodbath.

“Walk away, both of you,” I said. “This accomplishes nothing. What are you hoping to win?”

“This isn’t about winning,” Ascanio said. His face took on a savage edge. A deranged light played in his eyes, the bouda crazy spilling out. “You should have stayed gone.”

Derek looked impassive, as if he were attending a boring lecture and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

No intelligent life on either side. I tried again. “You do this, and the Pack goes to war.”

“Cherry,” Ascanio said. “Remove the knight and keep her safe.”

A larger female bouda on the right stepped toward me.

Right. “Cherry, I am a Knight of the Order. Put your hands on me, and you’ll be hauling rocks for weeks.”

Cherry halted, unsure. The Pack was a big believer in redemption through hard labor.

I turned to Ascanio. “If you give them an illegal order, they will still be punished. Your authority won’t shield them. Is that the kind of beta you are?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Ascanio snapped. “Stay out of Pack business, human.”

The front door of my house burst open, and Namtur stormed out in all his tunic and sandals glory. “What is the meaning of this?”

Behind him Marten snuck out onto the porch and gave me a little wave.

I slapped my hand over my face. Why, Fate? Why? What did I do?

The shapeshifters froze, momentarily perplexed by the appearance of an indignant old man in their midst. Ascanio blinked. Derek raised his eyebrows.

Namtur pointed at the two boudas standing too close to my house. “You there! Get off this land.”

One of the boudas cackled.

“Great Uncle,” I growled.

He stabbed his finger at me. “You! You come over here. It is unseemly! It is beneath you to brawl in the street.”

Ascanio shook his head. “Somebody, pick up grandpa and put him back in the house before he gets hurt.”

Namtur’s eyes bulged.

“Uh oh,” Marten said.

“Insolent worm,” the Royal Assassin hissed. “I’ll skin you, weakling, and wear shoes made of your mangy pelt.”

Derek looked at me. “Interesting relatives you have.”

Ascanio pivoted to Namtur. “Mangy?”

Of all the things he could have taken offense to.

“Yes, carrion-eater. Slink away. It’s what your kind does best.”