tell the truth about sending for a lawyer. She was sure Nell had sent for the Skinner. Unfortunately, unless they arrived immediately, neither one would do her any good.
Inspector Ottokar ordered that the gate be opened. The servants at hand looked at Ryker first. Only when he nodded, his reluctance evident, did they move to obey.
Wrought iron swung wide, almost noiselessly, and Ottokar urged Thalia forward. “No time to waste. They’re waiting for us downtown.”
If there was a manticore stalking her, Thalia knew it would be fatal to Trade shape now. Since she had become the Rykers’ unexpected houseguest, she had been focusing her thoughts on how to make this mysterious transformation. Now, no matter what happened on her way to be questioned at the Tombs, Thalia was determined not to Trade. She would remain in her human form. If she could not Trade on purpose, she would not Trade by accident. She would control herself at all costs.
There were two more white Solitaire policemen with the van, one on the box holding the reins, the other standing by at the horses’ heads. Thalia was pushed toward them. Ryker and Nell were still watching. Thalia was very conscious of every step she took away from the safety they represented. She was on her own again.
“Let’s go, missy,” called the van’s driver from the box.
Thalia didn’t like his face. She decided he was nobody. He was nothing. She stopped dragging her feet and put on her Lady of the Lake manner, impassive and graceful, as she moved through the open gate.
The team of horses drawing the police van startled uneasily. They tossed their heads, harness jingling, struggling against the traces as they tried to shy. Too late, Thalia caught the scent of something dead and rotten.
The manticore knocked over the policeman holding the horses as it ran past, headed straight for Thalia.
Thalia’s hands and feet went cold. Pins and needles danced in her arms and legs. The abrupt sense of something new stirred deep within her. Another part of her mind—or perhaps another part of her soul—rose within her as fear held her still. Do not, she told herself. Do not Trade.
Both Ryker and Nell shouted a warning. Officer Kelly released Thalia and clawed at his holster, desperate to free his pistol. Inspector Ottokar pushed Thalia aside as he stood between her and the manticore. “Halt!”
The manticore shoved Ottokar away as Kelly took his shot.
With the gunshot so close, Thalia’s ears rang. If anyone was shouting orders, she couldn’t hear them. The world narrowed around her as she focused on the deathly face of the manticore.
It took no notice of the policemen, although Kelly’s shot had been true enough to strike the manticore in its leg. It was intent on Thalia.
Thalia stood her ground, sure this was the last minute of her life. Ryker had been right to try to keep her safe from this. She held fast to her human shape while her familiar senses melted into utter numbness. Half of herself longed to Trade. She ignored that half. Even in extremis, Thalia noted the scent the manticore’s proximity lured from her. She smelled menstrual blood and warm milk.
The smell steeled Thalia’s resolve. If she had to die, if she had to die stinking, right. Good. She wasn’t going to die screaming. This was her last exit—let it be a good one.
As the manticore closed in on Thalia, time moved with exquisite slowness. She couldn’t hear anything, but Thalia saw its chest move in deep panting breaths, as if it was savoring the scent it drew from Thalia.
Stronger than it had been that night in Philadelphia when it had saved her life, the urge to Trade deepened. Thalia ignored it. Resisting the Trade, staying entirely human, would be her last act of defiance.
Looking into the manticore’s bright but sunken eyes, she saw how unnatural it was, how filthy, how intent upon taking her life, upon taking her very self away. For the first time, she knew she was a Trader. Traders had magic. Manticores lived by feeding on that magic. The manticore’s hunger burned in its eyes.
The manticore smiled at Thalia.
Something sliced past Thalia from behind.
The manticore was thrown back from Thalia. It fell writhing to the ground. Spittle flew from its mouth as its human disguise yielded to its true manticore form. The head remained human, but the trunk became a compound of lion and hyena, its tail hairless and scaly. When the manticore went limp, its smell became