I'd never had the innate grasp of elemental forces that Harry possessed. Even with Lasciel in my back pocket feeding me hellfire until I reached my limit, I'd never be as good a combat wizard as Harry was. The only reason I hadn't been bowled over by a Fomor sorcerer was that I'd begun to fight smarter, not harder. Thankfully, I didn't have to be a big-shot White Council wizard to keep them off my back for a minute or two. The first gust from what Dad affectionately called my 'hairdryer spell' sent around three dozen pixies tumbling, knocking into their fellows as they went. I swept the cone of wind in a wide arc, disrupting still more of the little folk's flight paths. They'd recover quickly.

Hendricks had slung me over one shoulder for ease of transport and ran full-out, rounding the edge of the Full Moon Garage in seconds. His stride ate up long swaths of ground, but even he wasn't fast enough to outrun all the pixies. Toot soared in from above, waving his arms, the nimbus of light around him strobing an insistent red. He jabbed a finger to the right whipping his head back in forth in a violent negative.

"What the-?" Hendricks began, whipping a hand up to swat at Toot. I might have kicked him to halt the downward descent. It didn't matter, ultimately. The Wee Folk were like bees to Hendrick's massive bear. He couldn't have laid a finger on the Major General if he'd tried.

"The car, M'Lady!" Toot cried.

I craned my neck in time to see a spider web of cracks form on Hendrick's front glass and hear the hiss of air that escaped slashed tires. We couldn't get far in his car if the tires were flat and the visibility was next to nil. We'd probably get T-boned the second we pulled into an intersection. Which was the point of the sabotage. I'd taught them to do this very thing to warlocks, Fomor Servitors, and good, old-fashioned human baddies. It was easy to sneak up behind someone under a veil and lay them out when they were more concerned with the state of their wheels. Now it had come back to bite me hard on the ass.

Hendricks stumbled the next few steps. I couldn't see his face, but I was betting he was staring, open-mouthed at the ruins of his car. At least none of them had thought to turn the car into a fireball by sticking a match into the gas tank. Yet.

"Those little fuckers wrecked my car," he said faintly. "How the hell did they do that so fast? I was just here."

"They're really good at what they do," I said. "Which is why we need to get out of here. Is there someplace nearby that has enough shelter from the outside world to allow me to set up a circle? It should keep us safe until they disperse."

Which could take anywhere from hours to days, depending on how long they could hold onto their anger. They didn't have a huge attention span as a rule, but we were talking about pizza. It was one of the only things in the known universe that could unite these guys under one banner and keep them on task. If I'd insulted their pride, they would have played their pranks and gotten over it. If I neglected to mention it, they'd forget about any slight by the end of the week. But I hadn't insulted their pride, I'd swindled their stomachs, and that wasn't something they'd be likely to forgive. I needed to find a way to get Pizza Hut here, pronto.

"No circle.," he grunted. "We'd be sitting ducks. Sigrun says humans can cross a circle just fine, and there are plenty of those in this neighborhood. We need to get behind a threshold."

Hendricks veered off in a new direction, pausing only to seize a sheet of scrap metal that had come loose from the garage, holding it aloft as he ran. The pixies that pinged off it yowled with pain, dropping to the ground, trailing sullen sparks as they went. I could only hope my handler hadn't just mortally wounded any of them. I was frustrated with the lot of them, but I didn't want them dead.

"Not a lot of those in this part of town," I pointed out breathlessly. His shoulder bruised my ribs as he tore across the road and vaulted a curb.

"I know a guy," he said, sweeping the sheet of metal in a wide arc, deflecting still more of the strobing faerie lights.

"Troubleshooter?" I guessed. "Stationed nearby to deal with me specifically or was that just a coincidence?"

I could see the logic in it. Bullets were one thing that wizards weren't proof against. With the right amount of prep, you even avoid a death curse. That kind of spell took intent, and you couldn't gather your will if you didn't know a shot was coming. If I wasn't a Sensitive, it would have been a good failsafe for Marcone to have. As it was, I'd sense an assassin coming long before I saw them.

"Coincidence," Hendricks said after a noticeable pause.

I laughed, in spite of myself. It looked like Marcone wasn't privy to all my secrets if he thought he could get away with something like that.

It took six minutes to reach the run-down neighborhood nearest the Full Moon Garage, and my reserves were all but gone by the time Hendricks bullied our way past a threshold and into the home of the troubleshooter. Larry Smith didn't look like much. Forty, five foot five with short brown hair, watery eyes, a sallow complexion, and questionable fashion sense. His emotions were as sparse and simplistic as the decor of his house. Most likely a psychopath. I'd gotten good at spotting those lately. Thankfully, he had more to worry about than me. The faeries were throwing a tantrum on his lawn.

I shut myself into the kitchen, struggling not to slump against the counter as the landline rang. Part of me hoped no one picked up. I didn't want to rely on him again. But of course, someone did pick up on the third ring.

"Carpenter residence," Dad said.

"Hey Daddy," I said, voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry to ask, but I need your help..."