“I’ll look it up. Now hang up and find the busiest restaurant on the block. Go in and get a table surrounded by people. Sit facing the door. Then call me back. If the cell phone dies, use a pay phone and call my answering service collect.”

I did as he asked.

“Okay,” he said when I called back. “You need cash. I’m going to wire you some.”

“I don’t have any ID—”

“I know a way around that.” Of course he did. He gave me instructions. “First thing you buy is a prepaid cell phone. Dump the stolen phone down a toilet. Then go here.” He rattled off the name of a hotel and an alias. “The room is already reserved and fully covered. Once you’re in there, stay there.” He paused. “I take it your spells haven’t come back?”

That startled me for a second, until I realized that Adam would have told everyone as soon as they realized I was gone.

“They haven’t,” I said.

“And I suppose these people know that.”

“Actually, they don’t. I hinted that my spells were on the fritz after I was poisoned, but that’s all.”

“Good. It’ll make them less likely to confront you in a hotel room. They’ll wait for you to come out. But you’re not going to come out. You’re going to buy food and drink before you arrive, hole up, and watch movies until I get there. That won’t be until morning, so you’ll have to stay awake. Stock up on coffee and cola. Also, visit a pharmacy. You’re probably exhausted. You’ll need caffeine pills.”

“Can I talk now?”

A pause, as if he really wasn’t sure why that was necessary.

“It’s about the group. The ones who took me hostage. They—”

“We can discuss all that later. For now—”

“They think Adele Morrissey’s child is alive. In fact, they’re sure of it, and they’re planning to get him.”

That made him shut up and listen.

twenty

I managed to get out the main parts of my message—protect Hope, protect the twins—before the line went dead. I headed to the restroom and flushed the cell. Then I left.

I got the money. Got a new cell phone. Made my tails. There were two of them—the flyer guy and a young couple that appeared when I left the restaurant.

Didn’t take me long to lose them. I knew the basics and Rhys had given me extra tips. By the time I got my new phone, they were gone. To be sure they stayed gone, I went shopping. Bought a hoodie, new shoes, and khakis. Then I trashed my clothes, in case they’d planted tracking devices. To avoid supernatural methods of detection, like clairvoyance, I stayed away from signs that would reveal my location. A lot harder to do that in a hotel, where everything seems to be branded, but I tried.

I’d picked up some food and the caffeine pills, but I really didn’t think I’d need them. I was wired. Yet after I’d eaten and laid on the bed for a couple of hours, my body and brain started begging for a break, and I almost drifted off. So I popped pills and I found a loud action movie, and I set my bedside alarm clock for fifteen minutes, resetting it every time it rang, just in case I drifted off.

When the fire alarm went off at two A.M., I thought it was the movie. Even when I realized it was real, I dismissed it. I’d had alarms go off at hotels before, to the point where I just stayed in my room and waited to smell smoke. Well, I did if Paige wasn’t with me—you could sound an alarm five times in one night and she’d still insist we clear out for each one.

I didn’t think anything more of it until I looked out the window and saw police cars and an unmarked van that might as well have had BOMB SQUAD plastered on the side. Then I realized this was a trap.

I’d locked myself in a hotel room. I wasn’t coming out. Wasn’t even ordering room service. As Rhys said, if my pursuers thought my spells worked, they wouldn’t want to confront me here where tight quarters gave me a tactical advantage.

They needed me out. What better way to get me out than a bomb scare.

Like I was falling for—

An explosion. Someone outside the building screamed so loud I heard it on the top floor. I cracked open my window as a second blast hit, blowing out windows I couldn’t see. More screaming—both in the parking lot and the halls.

Okay, not a bomb scare. Actual bombs were involved.

The blasts were small and localized. If it was me, that’s what I’d do—plant small ones to convince everyone there was a real danger.

A key card whooshed in my lock. I backed into the bathroom. The door swung open and hit the chain.

A man swore. Then, “Hello? Ma’am? We are evacuating the building. You need to come out now.”

I didn’t answer.

“Ma’am, this is a serious threat. There are bombs on the premises.”

A radio clicked. The man said, “I’ve got a chained door on twelve. Get someone up here right now. Room twelve-oh-four.”

A woman’s voice on the other end told him to continue searching for more sleeping guests.

Made it all sound so easy . . . which was why I was certain it was a trap.

When he’d gone, I crept to the door and peered through the keyhole. No sign of anyone. As I cracked open my door, the man pounded on another farther down.

“Sir? Ma’am? You need to leave the building now.”

Muffled voices replied in a language I didn’t recognize. The man swore and radioed it down, asking what were the chances of getting an interpreter.

If it was a setup, it was an elaborate one. Still, that didn’t mean my pursuers weren’t waiting right around the corner.

I opened the balcony door. Slipped out, being careful to stay out of sight of anyone watching from below. Looked down. Looked up. Went back inside.

Balconies can be useful escape routes, if climbing down wouldn’t leave you exposed to a growing mob below. And if climbing up wouldn’t put you on the roof of a building possibly rigged with explosives.

I stuffed the money from Rhys in my pockets, and eased open the hall door. The guy checking the rooms was gone. Down the corridor, a middle-aged couple leaned out their door, trying to figure out what was going on, chattering in what I now realized was French. I knew some French. Well, very little—just what I’d picked up from shopping trips to Paris—but that gave me an idea.