“Transomnia skipped, and Wulf is dying and Mirabilus is dead,” I said, “but they had a buttload of guards. I took them out when I arrived—”
“You took them out?” the first cop said. “How?”
“Magic,” I responded. “But all of the guards were gone when I came out. I don’t know if they’re gone or just regrouping—”
“Aw, hell,” Philip said, looking off sharply—sirens started blaring out of City Hall East, and I heard more approaching rapidly from the distance. “And now we’re about to get a swarm of badges descending on a sea of Edgeworlders. It can’t ever be easy, can it?”
He stood there, just a moment; then he came to a decision.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Philip said, loudly, as if he was speaking to far more than just the two officers. “We have five victims, including one witch and one werewolf—yes!—at the mercy of the minions of a serial killer. I need you at my back, but be sharp! Don’t plug anyone just because they look odd or furry! Let’s move.”
They ran. I realized he hadn’t asked me where to go, what else to look for. He just ran for the Masquerade, and the two officers followed him without a second thought. I tried to follow, but the pebbles and glass that I had sailed over before brought me to a standstill when I was halfway there. The sirens and the lights grew louder and louder, but I kept walking, walking towards the Masquerade. I was shaking when an officer stepped up beside me, covered my shoulders in a blanket, and sat me in the open door of his police cruiser.
And the rising whine of the Shadowhawk returned—one, then two, then more, backed by a deeper thrum. I and the new officer looked up to see three Shadowhawks decloak around the Masquerade, disgorging black-suited officers that rappelled down to join the fray. Above them, the long cigar shape of a zeppelin was dimly visible, its black metal hide illuminated by the backwash of a huge spotlight.
“Holy… cow,” the officer said, just like the first one had.
“You’re telling me,” I said.
Most of Mirabilus’s thugs were gone. Philip said they rounded up one minion holed up under the bar in Purgatory—Baldy, who turned out to be the same low-rent gun thug that had gone after me during the stage show but ended up plugging ‘Mirabilus’. True to form, the former stage magician had used a plant to ‘fake’ (or at least keep control over) his own shooting. They also picked up a confused and astounded chauffeur who had been waiting for Mirabilus and company to return to his rented car, but Philip seemed to have already checked the guy’s story out by the time he got back to me, two hot steaming coffees in his hands.
“Mirabilus is dead,” he said, looking back at the Masquerade, “but you’re right—no sign of Transomnia.”
“Transomnia helped me at the end,” I said. “Said Mirabilus was using him.”
“He’s an accessory to murder,” Philip said. “You’re not suggesting we let him go?”
I pulled back my right lip to expose my missing molars. “You won’t hear that from me,” I said, “but you won’t see me going after him, even if I thought I could take him.”
“Fair enough,” Philip said. He sighed. “The medics did what they could to revive him but… we were too late to save Wulf.”
“I know,” I said. “I know.”
He reached out and took me into his arms, kissed my forehead, held me while I cried. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
“He just wanted my help,” I said. “Just wanted a normal life—”
“Hey,” he said. “You saved a young girl today, and your friends. We lose some, but we win some.”
“Fair enough,” I said, wiping my cheek. “What about North Carolina?”
“Goose chase,” he said. “We’re holding the girl. She claims she was just trying to create trouble for her boyfriend, but she’s got a relatively new magical tattoo—”
“Controlling charm,” I said.
“Given what I saw of Mirabilus and Wulf,” Philip said, “Oh yeah.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,” I said.
“Kidnappings always make for tough calls,” he said softly. “You did the right thing. Jinx’s boy Doug tried to call it in—”
“Good for him,” I said. “Good Doug!”
“Ha,” Philip replied. “But he got routed to 911 hell, very hinky—”
“Mirabilus again,” I said bitterly. “He was bragging about it.”
Philip nodded. “By the time he’d given up and drove down to the police station, the shit had already hit the fan.”