Free Whisper of Shadows (The Diamond City Magic Novels) by Diana Pharaoh Francis

win.
    “Or?”
    “I’m going to do whatever it takes to save my brother,” he said in a gravelly voice, and the look he turned on me was smoldering hot. As in, fire and brimstone and hellfire and damnation.
    The threat was clear. He wasn’t going to let me stand in his way.
    “Message received,” I said in a low voice. “Just so you know, I’m going to do the same.” I grinned fiercely at him.
    He growled.
    “Down boy. Sit, stay, heel.”
    “You need to let me handle this. Clay would never forgive me if you got hurt.”
    “Actually, what I need to do is help Price, and then figure out my own damned life, thank you very much. I also need you to stop ordering me around like I’m your servant.” It was good to have someone to snap at. Everyone else I was pissed at was off the radar. Touray was a convenient target, and itching for a fight himself.
    “A servant? Hell no. You’re not nearly competent enough to get paid for the trouble you cause. You’re a child. A stupid, irresponsible, moronic, ungrateful child at that. You’re going to get Clay killed, or yourself, and he’ll blame me.”
    “Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?” I said.
    He didn’t seem to hear me. He slowed the car. Ahead of us at the Bitner crossroad, sirens wailed and lights flashed. It was an ambulance. It veered around stopped cars and into the intersection. There must have been a patch of black ice. Instead of stopping to let the emergency vehicle through, two cars spun wildly and the ambulance T-boned one of them. The ambulance swirled sideways, then rolled over. Sparks sprayed as metal scraped across the pavement.
    Other cars coming down the boulevard braked, and there were more spins and crashes as they hit the invisible ice and smashed into one another. Touray drove up on the sidewalk as he braked. A car bumped the left corner of our bumper and we jolted, but didn’t lose traction.
    He stopped, putting the SUV in park. He popped open the console. Inside was a stash of several handguns. He pulled two out and handed one to me.
    “It’s chambered,” he said, leaning forward to slip his into his rear waistband. “I want you to get off the Boulevard and go somewhere safe. Call Mason and he’ll pick you up.”
    “You think this is a trap for you,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
    “I think it’s a trap for one of us or maybe both.”
    “We could both run. We should be able to get away. And you can travel through dreamspace.”
    He grimaced. “It might not be a trap,” he said. “People might need help.”
    “Help is probably on the way.” He surprised me. I didn’t see him as a guy who helped strangers.
    “They might not have time, and I’m here now.” The corner of his mouth quirked momentarily in grim humor at my astonishment. “I told you before—this is my city. My circus, my clowns, my problems. All of them.”
    I stared. As scary as he could be, as vicious and brutal and ruthless, he had a core of kindness and generosity that defied sense. He’d give his life for strangers because he’d adopted them as his own. For that, I could almost learn to like him. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to roll over and play dead when he irritated me. The man needed someone in his life who didn’t ask, “How high?” when he said, “Jump.”
    He pulled his door open and went around to the rear of the vehicle. I followed. From an emergency box in the back, he pulled out some flares. He handed me one. At my doubting look, he smiled. “Makes a hell of a weapon.”
    I nodded and put it in my pocket. I thrust the gun into the other pocket. I wished I had better shoes on and maybe pants. Teach me to get dressed up.
    He drew out a shiny silver thermal blanket. It was wrapped in a pouch no bigger than the palm of my hand. “Just in case,” he said.
    In case of what? I wanted to signal space? I took it without arguing.
    “Have you got money? For a cab or the subway?”
    I nodded. Some things were old habit. My bra held more than my