I carried Jake along the boardwalk-style porch thing that spanned the length of dusty storefronts, toward the two deputies who lounged outside the main office door. Never expected to purposefully darken that doorstep again—but there we were. As we approached, I recognized the deputy sitting in the chair. The skinny, bookish guy with glasses sat up with surprised recognition. Of Jake and me, anyway. His lazy glance turned into a momentary stare, and then his lips parted, shoulders hunching as his face screwed up.

  He may have been offended over our prison break a few weeks ago.

  The deputy shot to his feet and drew his plasma pistol. The other deputy spilled his drink on himself and looked down, then at us as Cody Williams–who I affectionately thought of as Deputy Glasses—shouted, “Hands up! You’re under arrest!”

  I stopped walking a half dozen strides away and sighed, flicking a look down at the ropes on my med patched arm. “I can’t put my hands up, genius. Jake needs medical attention.”

  “You two escaped custody. You are under arrest as of now,” he countered.

  The furnace of rage in my gut had cooled on the walk but kindled right back up again. If Jake hadn’t been tied to my arms, I might have done something stupid. As it was, Akilah stepped around me to save the day with her calm rationality.

  “Put that down!" Akilah demanded. "Can’t you see we have wounded people here? What’s wrong with you?” She slammed her staff down onto the boardwalk for emphasis. I couldn’t see her face. Didn’t have to. I knew what expression she made.

  It wasn’t a calm, rational expression.

  The other deputy, who’d been halfway to drawing his pistol, froze. Akilah gave them one beat to get their heads on straight, then barked, “I said we need help!”

  Our HP had been slowly ticking upward. Just a few points, but I knew we’d survive it. That bleed attack. Damn. I wanted it.

  Jake was the exception. His HP hadn’t fallen, but it wasn’t rising, either. And the Sphinx… Zayan was the only airlift I knew of, besides the dragon guarding Kiyomizu Temple. We just had to convince a thousands-year-old district lord and sheriff that this criminal’s life deserved to be saved.

  At the moment I was grinding through that mental calculus, Fig let out a soft cry, crumpling with just the right amount of dramatic flair. I kept my face neutral, but by Tan’Fukshan, I wanted to smile.

  The deputies hesitated for half a second, then Glasses leaned inside the open door and shouted, “Savage!”

  The other guy—one of the cowboys that had cheered Deputy Savage before—jumped off the boardwalk to scurry around Akilah and me. Elora took her cue from Fig and leaned into the wall, sniffling faked tears. It was believable. Frag, who had been using his rifle as a makeshift crutch, clocked the intent of Fig’s swoon and dropped the plasma rifle.

  “Oh,” he said, staggering toward her.

  The deputy held up a hand and crouched beside her. “Ma’am? Ma’am, can you talk?”

  I’d turned to watch the little drama unfold, but caught the sound of bootheels and glanced back. Parthena Savage scowled at me as if the sight of me personally insulted her and ruined her day. Her voice spilled disdain when she spoke. “You.”

  “We need to get Jake to Symbiot,” I explained. “His wound isn’t healing. We had a run-in with the Killer.”

  Her expression shifted. She still hated the fuck out of us, but the newsies had been shouting about the Killer from day one. She hated it more. Her prairie-worn eyes narrowed. She scuffed her palm over the holster of her sidearm thoughtfully, then curtly nodded her tawny head toward the office door.

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  I shook my head. “We need the sheriff to take our wounded to Symbiot. Far as I know, the Killer might be lurking right now. Watching.”

  Fig’s soft voice drifted in. “I’m just—tired. Please help us.”

  Her CHARM AURA flickered, washing the area with a gentle push. Risky. If their Perception was strong, their HUDs would flag the warning. Not that most of them knew how to operate it, but I knew they could read, and they’d been around long enough to know a skill trick when they saw one.

  “We gotta help her,” the one beside Fig muttered, looking up at Savage.

  A heavy padding step creaked the floorboards by the office entrance. I flicked a look past Savage. The sheriff stepped out, ducking the doorframe. Thick lion’s paws bore him through, his face—neither fully leonine nor human but an uncanny between—turned our way as he emerged, wings tucked tight, fluidly passing through the door. The black-beaded plaits that crowned his head gleamed in the light as white feathers flared free of the squeeze.

  The make-or-break moment.

  I inclined my head. “Sheriff.”

  His usually serene expression darkened for a heartbeat. He looked to Savage, then back at me, taking in the scene. Unlike Fig, he didn’t need to push charisma. He was charisma. My stomach churned, and I had to remember to breathe.

  “It appears that you’ve run into a situation,” he murmured, the smooth cadence of his voice both soothing and utterly terrifying.

  “The Killer,“ I said. “We’ll share what we know if you take Jake to Symbiot, to the healers.” I swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. The rest of us were mending, slow but sure. Even Frag was, by my party status reading. Just, not Jake.

  Sheriff Zayan considered me silently, the moment stretching long before he showed a flash of an unnerving feline smile.

  “You will tell me, regardless. But, I will do this.” His tone dropped. “Though your criminal alert has been removed by the grace of this land’s gods, I have not forgotten your affronts. We will come to a reckoning.”

  Well. Shit. I wasn’t surprised, but I’d held a nugget of hope that he’d let it slide. Akilah had shown us how to break System alerts but Zayan wasn’t so old he forgot stuff like prison breaks, apparently.

  “Deputy Savage, free the demon. I can carry one other,” Zayan said, glancing over his shoulder, then looking back at me.

  I checked the party status. Frag’s stats were low; that gnarly slash had nearly done him in. “Frag, can you hold Jake on the sheriff’s back while he flies you to the hospital?”

  Frag blinked. He was slow to answer, but he nodded. Meanwhile, Deputy Savage grabbed a section of the rope around my wounded arm and sawed through it. My rope! Dammit. I had to buy more, I guess.

  “Deputy, gather their statements while I take care of this,” Zayan commanded. Savage helped me get Jake astride Zayan’s back. He’d fainted at some point, which was probably for the best. Frag climbed up behind, and the massive sphinx took a brief running leap before taking to the sky.

  At least up there, they were safe from the crystalline terror. A few minutes, and Jake would be safely in the hands of the vastly intelligent baboon people of Symbiot. Which left us. Of all of us, I was the only one who knew these lawmen.

  Savage gestured toward the door and waited for us. Akilah paused, glancing back at me.

  “They’re alright—for the popo,” I muttered. Well. Unless you crossed them. Like I did.

  Akilah shrugged and then headed through the door. I moved to follow, then glanced back at Elora and Fig. Fig leaned heavily on the deputy who’d hurried over to help her. Elora sniffled, wiped a crocodile tear away, and shuffled toward me.

  “Your arms okay?” I asked, glancing at the med patches covering her forearms.

  “They will be after I get the scars removed. You’re um—will you be okay?” She glanced at my arm, which hung to my side. The look in her eyes suggested it was serious.

  The slash I’d sustained cut across my bicep and forearm. The patch I’d slapped on my forearm gently throbbed, but my upper arm felt terrible, and I couldn’t do more than flex my fingers a bit. My bicep was wet, still bleeding, but Jake’s kit ran out of patches. I had no answer for her.

  I shrugged my left shoulder and pretended I was fine. As we stepped into the shade of the office, I suggested, “Tell them everything you heard from the Killer.”

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