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  “I don’t see him.”

  He glanced back at the mirror. “Only here. In the mirror. Not there.”

  “What? That’s not possible.” Elves were immune to most broad-spectrum glamouries. If Beth could see him, there was no reason Kory shouldn’t.

  “It is true,” Kory said. “I see him in the mirror. But when I look directly at him, he isn’t there.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Beth said in a low voice. “I called our rides, but I don’t know when they’ll get here.”

  “And they cannot enter the convention center in any case,” Kory said practically. He began moving toward the exit, pulling Beth with him. “We must get back to the hotel. Prince Gelert will know what must be done.”

  “What about our stuff?” Beth asked in spite of herself. They couldn’t just abandon it, not when it was their passkey into Chinthliss’ library.

  “We’ll get it somehow. I was a fool to bring you here and expose you to such danger,” Kory said bitterly.

  “Hey—my choice,” Beth said reassuringly. “I just wish I knew what the hell’s going on.”

  Something had spooked the Spookie. Sean grinned mirthlessly at his own joke. He wasn’t sure what—the stealthtech woven into his suit should keep the thing from reading his brainwaves, much less seeing him unless he directly approached it, but there was no point in trying to argue with the facts. The Spookie and the redhead had stopped wandering and were heading purposefully for the nearest exit.

  “Caboose. All units, move up. On me,” he said into his throat mike.

  “There’s another one,” Beth exclaimed, alarmed. Same suit, same glasses. Proof, if she’d needed or wanted it, that something big and dangerous was after them both. Or . . . just after Kory? If he’d been here alone, he couldn’t even have seen them until it was too late.

  Someone hunting elves with magic they can’t sense? Well, that makes my day complete.

  “Where?” Kory demanded, his voice filled with exasperation and fear. Beth’s heart sank. If Kory couldn’t see them, how could they get away?

  “Two o’clock. Moving toward the exit. Hold on to me, and don’t let go.”

  “Always,” Kory answered grimly.

  They turned away from the exit, trying to keep the crowds between them and the men in green. But Beth spotted a third one, and realized there was no point any longer in pretending not to look. Please, oh, please, let them be trying to get us somewhere quiet before they try something. She pulled Kory to a stop.

  “This would be a good time to tell Bre and Mach to hurry,” She said tightly. Three that she could see—and how many she couldn’t spot?

  “They say they’re coming.” Kory was better at communicating long-distance with the ’steeds than she was. “But can we get to them?”

  “Bring ’em in here if we can’t get out. Ten to one everybody’ll think it’s another floor show.” She turned back toward the center of the hall, where the crowds were thicker. As she did, she caught the eye of the green-suited thug she’d first spotted. As she did he smiled and nodded, cocking thumb and forefinger in a make-believe gun and pointing it at her. Gotcha, he said silently.

  “Oh, Sweet Mother,” Beth groaned, looking sharply away. She felt panic well up inside her. They were after her—after them—and didn’t care if they knew it. The exhibition hall reeled around her, and everything was suddenly too bright and too loud. She couldn’t breathe.

  No! Not here—not now—no matter how good a reason she had, she couldn’t lose it and leave Kory helpless. She took a deep breath, half choking, fighting back the panic.

  “I will not let them take you,” Kory said. Comfort and calm flowed into her from their clasped hands.

  “Funny,” Beth said in a strangled voice, “but I don’t think it’s me they’re after. If it was, how come I can see them but you can’t?”

  “Then leave me,” Kory said promptly. “Get away while you still can.”

  He tried to pull away, but Beth wouldn’t let him. “No! They’ve seen us together. They’ll want me, too, now. And if you think I’m throwing you to the wolves, Mister, think again. If we can just get back to the hotel, we’ll be safe. Gerry can glitter them to death.”

  “Good idea,” Kory said, smiling tightly.

  Trying to make headway through the crowds was like swimming upstream through day-old Jell-O. Several exits loomed temptingly near, but if Beth was right in her guesses, to leave the main floor for any of the stairwells or walkways would play right into the hunters’ hands. They had to stay in plain sight until the ’steeds were near, and then run like hell.

  She’d never felt so exhausted. Tension, and the cat-and-mouse game they were playing, sapped her strength and will. The exhibit hall was a blur of sound and color around her, every display a place the enemy could hide. Kory had little strength to loan her—he needed to save his own in case they had to fight their way out. As the long minutes passed, she tried to keep herself from looking at her watch—Bredana and Mach Five would get here when they got here, and not a moment before. She concentrated on watching for telltale flashes of green clothing among the eclectically-costumed press of attendees—dressed in everything from three piece suits straight off Savile Row to Hawaiian shirts and Birkenstocks—that filled the convention space. She wasn’t sure now whether there were dozens of them or she was seeing the same few over and over.

  “They’re here,” Kory said, and a moment later Beth, too, could feel the elvensteeds’ worried presence.

  “Okay,” she said. “Time to make a break.” She was glad her voice sounded steady, because she felt about ready to burst into tears. At last they began slowly working their way toward the exit.

  “Two more Spookies,” Cat said over the radio link. “Outside on Paradise Road near the Visitor Information Center. You won’t believe this one, Chief. They’re horses that look like motorcycles.”

  “Nothing surprises me about Spookies,” Sean answered, into his throat mike. “Okay, kids. Looks like our boy is trying to make a break for it. Move up. Cat, stay away from whatever those things are. We don’t know what they can do.”

  “Gotcha, Chief. I’ve called up the Fantasticar, just in case.”

  “Good girl.” No matter where the Spookies ran, the Special Ground Vehicle could catch them. It was packed with gadgets that made everything here look like a set of Legos, and its built-in AI was smarter than most of the field team. If only they had more than the one prototype, they could wrap up the Spookie threat over the weekend and all go for a nice six-week vacation in Aruba.

  We do what we can with what we’ve got, Sean told himself philosophically. As Wheatley always said, there were better days ahead, providing you got through today alive.

  “Let’s catch ourselves a Spookie.”

  The exhibit halls were arranged on both sides of the Grand Concourse, which had a second floor that led to skywalks that connected both with the Hilton and one of the parking lots. Beth had been tempted to try for the hotel earlier, but had been afraid of what would happen once they left the safety of the convention crowds. With the elvensteeds waiting just outside, however . . .

  She and Kory hurried out into the concourse and turned west. They’d have to go up a flight of stairs to get to the walkway. That would be the danger point—when they were away from the protection of the crowds, easy prey.

  Hand in hand, the two of them hurried past a number of closed doors—meeting rooms, with programs going on inside—drawing curious glances from passersby still wandering the halls. She didn’t see any of their pursuers, and for one sweet moment, Beth thought they were home free.

  Then the original man she’d seen—their leader, Beth was morally certain—stepped out of the stairwell and walked toward them, hands open, smiling.

  Beth glanced toward Kory. He was looking in the other direction, back the way they’d come. She squeezed his hand frantically. He looked where she was looking, and she saw sudden awareness in his eyes, as if he could at last see w
hat she was seeing.

  “Hi,” the stranger said. “I wonder if you could—”

  The air crackled as Kory let go of Beth’s hand and flung a spellbolt that would knock the stranger senseless and clear their way. It splashed against his shirtfront, going from invisible to visible, from violet to pale yellow.

  And nothing happened.

  “Not very friendly,” the stranger said, reaching into his jacket. Beth could see now that he was wearing one of those Secret Service earplugs. “Zeppelin. All units converge.” His hand came out of his jacket holding a small pistol-shaped object. “Stay where you are, both of you.”

  Kory stepped back, dropping the glamour that made him appear human and calling up his elven armor as well. There was a hissing sound as his sword cleared its scabbard.

  Though the stranger apparently knew a great deal about elves, this move—and Kory’s appearance—seemed to take him by surprise. Beth could not see his eyes behind the green sunglasses, but the rest of him was eloquent of disbelief. Kory swung the flat of his sword at the hand that held the pistol, but even in the face of a Sidhe warrior in full field plate, the stranger’s reflexes remained good. He jerked his hand up and fired.

  Beth expected a loud explosion, but the strange gun only made a short hiss, like a sneeze. Louder than the sound of its firing was the plinking sound made as its projectile struck Kory in the chest. Kory uttered a startled cry. There was a short, dull-gray dart sunk into the armor’s elvensilver breastplate. The armor smoked and melted around it like dry ice around a red-hot coal, and magic flared and sparked unevenly.

  “I can put the next one through your eye, if you move another inch. It’s Cold Iron. I imagine it will hurt.”

  Kory froze, sword half-raised.

  Beth flung herself at the stranger, terrified into bravery.

  His gun went off. She felt a burning, cramping pain high on her left shoulder as the dart sank in, but she was no creature of magic to burn at the touch of iron. She scrabbled for the gun, trying to get her hands on it.

  There was a sound of glass breaking in the stairwell, as thick, crack-resistant, shatterproof glass gave way beneath the assault of elvensteed hooves. Kory jerked her away from the stranger—Beth yelped in pain as his hands closed over her injured shoulder—and pointed his sword at the stranger’s chest. The man froze, hands spread wide.

  “I do not know what quarrel you think you have with us, but I will tell you plainly: leave us alone!” Kory said.

  Beth ran past him, to the door to the walkway, and jerked it open. The elvensteeds—in equine form—floundered up the last of the stairs, clumsy in such close quarters, and trotted into the hall. Bredana nuzzled Beth anxiously, smelling the blood on her, and Beth pushed the ’steed’s head away before she could be burned by the iron. She reached up and grasped the end of the dart, pulling it free. It looked like a golf pencil, or a child’s crayon: harmless, not powerful enough to penetrate more than an inch or so.

  But deadly to elves.

  Her left arm felt numb and tingly, too weak to be of much use in mounting. Bredana shivered all over, and suddenly in place of the gleaming white mare stood an equally-gleaming motorcycle. Gratefully, Beth threw her leg across the seat and settled aboard.

  Kory backed away from his downed foe and vaulted aboard his own ’steed, still in armor. Once in the saddle, he reached up to pluck the dart free of his armor and fling it away; the armor of his gauntlet sizzled and popped but protected his hand long enough to keep him from burning. Then he turned and sent Mach Five back down the steps, Beth and Bredana close behind.

  For a moment, it looked like they might make their escape. There was no sign of pursuit when they hit the street, and even the sight of a knight on horseback didn’t draw more than a few glances—this was Las Vegas, after all, and the Excalibur Hotel was just up the Strip. They headed for the Tir-na-Og at a gallop, planning to cut around back and go in through the service entrance, where they’d attract less attention. Once inside the casino’s spellshields, they should be able to go to ground and figure out just what it was that had been chasing them.

  In the parking lot, Kory morphed from armored Sidhe knight to Mundane in khakis and blazer, and Mach Five transformed from fiery charger to high-ticket bike as they accelerated toward the main road. No one was looking when he changed, and if they were, it wouldn’t really matter. The two of them were already in enough trouble without worrying over whether or not they became an X-File.

  But as they reached the Strip, a shadow appeared between them and the sun. Beth looked up, over her shoulder.

  A large black limousine without any wheels was hovering over them, ready to follow them anywhere they went. As she watched, it shimmered and vanished, leaving behind nothing but a disturbance in the air like a heat mirage. It still cast a shadow, but that was a lot less noticeable than a flying bathtub cruising the noontide Strip.

  Beth felt her mind slowly and carefully boggle, a sensation not unlike having a lounge chair languidly collapse under you. She could believe in elven knights, dragons, winged fairies, unicorns, and magic castles without a single blink. But this flying car thing chasing them was straight out of Star Wars. It didn’t seem possible—let alone real—and it might be able to do anything.

  We can’t go back to the casino, she realized with a sinking feeling. We’d just be leading them right into the middle of Glitterhame Neversleeps—and these guys probably aren’t all that picky about which elves they kidnap.

  Glancing to her side, she saw that Kory had come to the same conclusion. He pointed south—down the Strip, out of town. Beth nodded, glad that her dark turtleneck and blazer concealed the amount she was bleeding. He knew she was hurt, but the last thing she needed was for Kory to be worrying about her when he ought to be worrying about himself. And it wasn’t a bad injury. More of a puncture wound, painful and annoying and messy, as if someone had driven a tenpenny nail into the fleshy part of her shoulder.

  The two elvensteeds accelerated down the road, weaving in and out of afternoon traffic with blithe disregard of local speed laws, but no matter how fast they went—and at the end of the first mile they were doing well over 100 mph—the flying car kept up with them (at least as far as Beth could judge from the coffin-shaped shadow that raced ahead along the ground). The two elvensteeds were invisible to ordinary traffic now—but no matter how they zigged and detoured, the vehicle paced them as though they were plainly visible. Beth very much wanted to talk to Kory, to ask him what he thought, but that would involve stopping, and the only thing that was keeping them even slightly safe at the moment was sheer speed.

  We can’t hide, and we can’t run. What does that leave?

  All they needed was a few seconds and a little privacy, and the elvensteeds could open a Portal that would take them back to the casino, but that assumed that the Men In Green couldn’t follow that as well, and at the moment Beth thought that was too dangerous an assumption to make. The best thing to do—and undoubtedly Kory’s plan—was to lose their pursuers entirely before doubling back.

  If they could.

  The airport flashed by in a blur of palm trees, and in a few seconds more they were on the open road. Even in November, the desert sun hammered down on blacktop and pale red rock, casting the harsh desert landscape into merciless relief.

  And still the shadow over their heads paced them.

  At the moment it began to seem that the contest would settle into one of sheer endurance, the hovercraft opened fire. Pale flashes of light wove a lattice in the air ahead of them, driving them off the road, herding them in a circle back the way they came—and undoubtedly into the arms of other pursuers. The elvensteeds exerted themselves to the utmost, reaching unimaginable speeds, but the hovercraft easily paced them, throwing up barriers of laser fire whenever the ’steeds tried to escape. That they wanted to capture, not kill, the two of them was clear—and frightening, especially since it seemed like only a matter of time until they got their wish. The elvensteeds were
fast, and nimble, but doubly handicapped by having to care for their riders: sudden stops and changes of direction might fling Beth and Kory from their saddles, and Beth, injured as she was, couldn’t hold on very well.

  Suddenly Mach Five wheeled around and turned back the way he’d come. Beth waited a moment for Bredana to follow—and was filled with sudden stricken fury when she didn’t. Everything she tried was useless; the elvensteed would not obey her.

  “Kory! Damn you!”

  Unable to make her mount heed her, Beth flung herself from Bredana’s seat. The elvensteed, sensing her intention, had barely enough time to bring herself to a stop, but Beth still bit the dust hard, sending a lance of pain through her shoulder. She staggered to her feet, growling deep in her throat. Kory and Mach Five were only a faint speck upon the horizon, the invisible hovercar somewhere above them.

  The elvensteed came up behind Beth timidly. Beth swung around and grabbed her by the handlebar with her good hand, shaking with rage. How dare Kory go off and sacrifice himself? How was she ever going to get him back once the MIGs had him? Didn’t he understand that going off in this quixotic fashion didn’t help?

  “Find him,” she told Bredana in a low dangerous voice. “Find him now.”

  If he lived through this, he would certainly receive—and deserve—a severe scolding from Beth, Kory thought distractedly. A part of his mind was occupied with sorting the chaotic pictures Mach Five sent him of the terrain the elvensteed had covered on its run here; as much as possible, he wished to choose his ground for what he was about to try. Not for the first time, he wished he had more of his elders’ skill in the Art, but Prince Korendil of the High Court of Elfhame Sun-Descending was only a Magus Minor; gifted with little more than the native skill in geasa and glamouries that were the birthright of all the Children of Danu. What he was minded to try now would tax the power of a great Adept, a Magus Major. But he could imagine no other solution to their problem. They must escape the flying car, and they could neither outrun it or hide from it. They dared not lead it back to the other elves, for he now realized that Beth had been right—the strange men in the green suits seemed to be hunting the Seleighe Sidhe, and doing it with tools that seemed near magical in effect, yet held nothing of the Art.