I expected the Kylians to find us. They did, but not in the way I'd imagined.

  We'd been sitting at one of the cafe's four, round, steel tables for about twenty minutes when I spotted motion to my left.

  The street had been mostly empty, only the occasional orange-clad worker walking past. No moving walk-ways on the third level. Likely, they'd clog up with refuse. Everything was grimy and smelled of powdered slag. Even the air tasted of it, a sharp, metallic tang.

  The motion caught my eye by its irregularity. Healthy people walk a certain way, a measured beat, left, right, left, right.

  Wounded people don't.

  It was one of Maiko's young bodyguards, and he hobbled forward, holding his ribs. His brown shirt was stained dark.

  I stood, putting a hand beneath my jacket and grabbing the warm heft of my gun. The M3's ridged grip felt solid in my palm. It helped me focus and conjure a thread of force from the void, cold and slithering in my mind.

  Then I opened the cafe's door and glanced out into the street.

  Empty in both directions, a wide, rippled steel surface, wet with the voidmunching humidity of the third level. The bodyguard, bent over, limping forward. No pursuers.

  Just to be sure, I felt around with my thread of force, snaking it out and whipping it around in half-circle.

  Nothing. No wards, no force. Life, but it felt small, scattered. Rats, mice, lizards. Humans bring all manners of creatures into space.

  I released the butt of my M3, but kept the thread of force, tapping it against my own wards, feeling them out without up-tuning them. Then I stepped out into the street, pushing the awareness of magic to the back of my mind, letting the thread flail around until it dissipated. I already had a headache. Might as well burn my focus and get myself a worse one if it meant having a magic early warning system.

  My mouth quirked with a bit of pride. Not many warders could pull a stunt like that.

  "What's going on?" Hao said, rising from our table. Sometimes I forget how fast things happen for those who aren't trained.

  "Kylian," I said. "He's hurt."

  The bodyguard spotted me, started limping faster, his uneven steps slapping wetly against the street.

  "Masecs," he said, then coughed. A fine misting of blood struck my jacket, spotting it.

  "Where?" I said.

  "Third entrance," he replied, which told me nothing. "Their spotters saw us, caught Deyn, but I managed to get away. We thought we were cautious."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Don't you people ever defend yourselves?" I said.

  He gave me an incredulous look.

  "We start carrying guns, and regular security will hunt us," he said. "It's better to run."

  I kept scanning the empty street. Because it was empty. Just like the last time we'd gotten attacked, with Riina, and the time before that, when the masecs kept baiting that kid. Empty was bad. The citizens of Rimont Station had grown a collective trouble bump.

  "Running's not gotten you anywhere," I said. "You're getting killed. What's your name?"

  "Aian," he said, and coughed again. He smelled of sludge and the recycling vats. I could guess where that third entrance was.

  "Hold him," I told Hao, and bent down to look at his side.

  Stab wound, long and shallow, his shirt slick with blood, the bulge of broken ribs beneath. Spiked club. Crudmunchingly silly weapon, but effective against the unarmored. I pulled out my emergency bottle of synth-skin and sprayed the wound. The kid winced but didn't cry out. The combination of sealant and disinfectant hurts like the cold void.

  "That's all I can do for him," I said. "He needs a medic."

  Aian was leaning against Hao's outstretched arm, oblivious to the stony look on her face. Hao nodded.

  "We'll take you back to Downbelow-town," I told Aian.

  "No," he said, "must get away from here. They can't find the way in, or they'll slaughter everyone."

  "If they found you by the entrance-" I began.

  "They don't know the way," Aian said. "The entrances are hidden."

  He kept talking, but my attention was elsewhere. My flailing thread of force had flailed into something large and living, several somethings. I focused on it, trying to reinforce it, but it was already dissipating and shattered as I tried to grip it. I summoned another, a thin stab of ice in my head, and tried to get a feel for the direction of the previous one.

  No need. A group of masecs clattered around a corner not thirty meters away, heavy boots clanging against the iron street.

  There were nine of them, each carrying a rifle. The rifles were painted in a camouflage pattern of black, grey and white, decked out with bulky low-light scopes and underslung flashlights. Stupid combination. Looked impressive though, especially since the barrels sticking out above the flashlights were narrow. Low bore sporting arms made to look like military assault rifles. The lead masec, a stout, bald-headed man, raised his rifle, working the bolt.

  Definitely sporting arms.

  Still lethal.

  I twisted, so Hao and Aian were behind me, then snapped my thread of force back, squeezing my eyes shut and shattering my flash ward.

  The world went nova.

  I had my wards to protect me, and my eyes closed. Still had dark purple spots dancing in my vision when I opened them.

  Others were less fortunate.

  The maseks were shouting, clawing at the faces and screaming, their rifles littering the ground. Idiots.

  "Crudmunching voidmunger," Hao growled, blinking furiously. She had her own wards in the magejacket.

  "Move," I told her. "Grab him."

  Aian was whimpering, his eyes squeezed shut. I'd twisted my body away from him, but the light had reflected in the cafe's windows. Still, it was better than getting shot.

  We hauled him up the street, away from the masecs.

  "Where to?" Hao said, holding Aian by his upper arm, half-carrying him.

  "Up to the fourth level," I said. "Map says there's a freight elevator five hundred meters spinward. We need to get somewhere safe. This entire place is one big crud."

  Hao snorted.

  "Too late to say 'I told you so?'" she said.

  "Not if you want to get your pay docked," I replied through clenched teeth. Aian wasn't cooperating, trying to walk off to the side, his feet scraping against the steel street. If he'd had a decent pair of mag-boots, he might have stood a chance. Now, all he did was annoy us.

  "It would if you paid me," Hao said. "Now shut up and pull."

  I shut, and we pulled and made it to the elevator leading to the fourth level without getting shot.

  It was locked.