Page 123 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

A box slid out at Laz’s feet. It hissed softly as it opened to reveal a handful of guns and ammunition.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Laz said as he loaded one and passed it to Kierse.

She took it in her hand, knowing this was the turning point. Imani had changed the game. If the warlock got her hands on the cauldron, that was the end of the road. Even if Imani was simply doing this for revenge, she couldusethe magic of the cauldron to make herself more powerful. Like the spear, that power in the hands of the wrong person could prove deadly. Kierse couldn’t let that happen.

“Back me up?” Laz said.

The sunroof slid open, and he climbed out like he’d done it dozens of times. They were really doing this.

Instinct took over, and Kierse slid through the partition into the front seat. She rolled the window down, hoisting herself out it and into a position to cover Laz. She’d always preferred knives to guns, but she’d had enough practice with them in her youth to find the handle comfortable in her grip as she leveled it at the back of Imani’s car.

Laz opened fire on the vehicle, shattering the back windshield into a million little pieces. The car swerved and another figure appeared with a gun in hand, returning fire. George maneuvered smoothly away from the gunfire while staying on their tail.

Kierse ducked as a bullet whizzed past her. “Fuck.”

She narrowed her eyes and felt her superior eyesight take over. She could see down the sights of the man leveling a gun at them. Not a face she recognized, but clearly one of Imani’s minions. She could kill him. He clearly did not care whether or not he killed her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to stop Imani. She wanted to get the cauldron for herself.

There was another way.

Kierse dropped her gaze and opened fire on the soft rubber tires. The back one went flat, shredding into several pieces as it ripped out from under them. The car skidded sideways, making a horrible shrieking noise as it tried to drive on the dented, sparking rim.

She aimed again and released a volley of bullets until one landed in a front wheel. When the second tire blew, the driver lost control of the vehicle and sent it careening across multiple lanes. Bullets rained toward them, and George took the turn wide to avoid ending up in a collision.

A soft golden glow of magic suffused the car as Imani tried to salvage the damage. Then with a horrifying crunch, it slammed into a parked car in front of Penn Station. The car seemed to fold in on itself with a deafening smash.

The magical glow switched off like a light. Imani was out of the game.

As they passed the car, Kierse could see the driver had a bleeding head wound. Imani lay sprawled across him. The man who had been firing at them had been thrown from the car. Her husband, Montrell, was not among them.

Red-and-blue lights flashed a few blocks behind them. Kierse could hear the whine of an ambulance already in pursuit. Oh, how times had changed. A few years ago, no one would have come for help.

“Cops,” Laz said, taking another clip from George.

“Continue to pursue the cauldron?” George asked for confirmation, unconcerned.

Kierse took a breath. The plan had gone to shit as it always did. She had learned to improvise on the job, and this was no different. They had known it might come to this.Not Imani, per se, but they’d known about the decoy and the chance to go after the cauldron. If they stopped now, what then? The cauldron was just gone?

“What about our intel?” Kierse asked.

“Half the files were corrupted,” Laz said. “I didn’t see anything about headquarters or the owner in all of it. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been searching for this goddamn thing for Graves for nearly a decade. I’m not ready to let it go.”

She wasn’t ready to lose it forever, either.

“Do it,” she told George.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Laz laughed. “Excellent.”

George sped up again, keeping his eyes on the armored car in front of them. The vehicle cut right severely down 23rd Street toward the entrance to the High Line. Kierse had walked the repurposed raised railroad that had been transformed into a public park many times before the war had torn it up. It was a popular pickpocket spot until it had become a hunting ground for monsters.

Kierse reloaded as they caught up to the armored vehicle, which cut south again on 9th Avenue into the heart of Chelsea. This was Dreadlord territory. Kierse cut her eyes to the rooflines, wondering if wolves were watching.

“Here we go,” Laz said.

They bumped the back of the vehicle with a screech. A goblin threw his head out of the side of the car and hefted a gun up. George veered to avoid him. Kierse glimpsed Schwartz in the driver’s seat, his eyes straight ahead.

Right. Stop them. Don’t kill the security detail.

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