Trace of Magic by Diana Pharaoh Francis Read Free Book Online

I could walk away free, who was I to argue?
    Three pedestrians passed by, never pausing. That left three more. From what I could tell, they were walking slowly, spread out across the sidewalk. The one in the middle was flanked by two others trailing a couple of steps behind. Not good. That seemed too organized for casual strollers.
    I waited, wondering what Price would do. Not a lot of people would be willing to take him on. Whoever was after him was risking a lot. Price was a known asset for one of the biggest Tyet organizations. Going after him would earn some serious retaliation. The trio was totally insane, if you asked me.
    The three followers slowed and started to bunch together. Damn. No way they could see us, so that meant they had to have a tracer with them. I touched one of my nulls in my pocket. It was short-term and weak. If I’d known there was a chance we were going to trap ourselves in a doorway with three goons hunting us down, I’d have nulled us out.
    Suddenly I had an idea. I turned and checked the door. It was locked, but with an old-fashioned key lock. I smiled and shoved my gun back into my outer coat pocket. I slipped my lockpicks from the coat’s breast pocket and went to work. It took me less than ten seconds. It was a crappy lock.
    I twisted the knob and slipped inside, pulling Price after me. His eyes widened, but he followed. I turned the deadbolt, and then pulled two nulls out of my pocket. They were cat-eye marbles, the kind that come in quarterbags at the toy store. I put one in his hand and invoked it, then did the same to mine. If we were lucky, we could escape the building before the goons caught sight of us.
    “Come on,” Price said.
    He dashed up the narrow stairs as someone rattled the door behind us. Gunshots sounded. Wood splintered in the door and stairs. I stumbled, bashing my shin as I missed the step.
    Price grabbed my hand and hauled me up after him. “Do you want to get dead?”
    He didn’t let me go as he pulled me down the hall. I was still wrestling with my panic and clung to him like a child. He tested the knobs of each door. None gave. He finally stopped at the end. “Pick it,” he hissed as someone crashed against the door downstairs. He stepped past me and drew his gun. He carried a .44 Desert Eagle. A hand cannon. I could have made a joke about a man overcompensating, but decided it wasn’t the time. Occasionally, I have moments of reason.
    I went to work with my picks, trusting I wasn’t going to get shot in the back. If there was one thing I could trust about Price, his aim was good and he wasn’t afraid to kill. And the faster I opened the door, the faster we’d be hidden. I was hoping we’d have time to figure out an escape that didn’t involve bullets and bodies.
    The lock gave, and I opened the door. There were no lights on. I gave a quick, low whistle, but Price was already shoving in after me. The man had to have eyes in his ass.
    He locked the knob and the dead bolt behind us. The curtains were closed, and there was precious little light. I jammed my knee into the corner of something hard and sharp as I went across the room to open the drape. I clamped my teeth to keep from swearing.
    “What now?” I whispered. Now that I had a moment to take everything in, my hands shook with adrenaline and fear.
    Price toured the apartment before coming to look out the window. We were on the corner of the building above the bike shop. Outside, a fire ladder was bolted just below the window. There was no landing. Price slid open the window and motioned for me to climb out, then went back to the front door. I assumed he was watching for our pursuers out the peephole.
    I hoisted myself up on the sill and slid out feet first. The steel was frigid and slippery, and I had to twist myself around onto my stomach. At last I was facing inward again with one foot securely on a rung. I started down. About halfway to the ground, the ladder ended. I looked over my shoulder and