“Sort of. I’ve never seen him go all the way. He usually doesn’t need to. He makes fire. Fire’s usually enough.”

“Can he fly?”

“I don’t know!” Julie spread her arms.

Argh.

I climbed into the Jeep. Curran got behind the wheel and stepped on the gas. We rolled toward Cutting Edge. Behind us, Derek and Julie jumped into the other vehicle.

I gripped Sarrat. Thin tendrils of smoke stretched from the blade, licking the air.

“Talk to me,” Curran said.

“They killed Mr. Tucker.”

“They’ll pay,” Curran said.

“He never did anything to anyone.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

The Jeep jumped over a bump in the pavement.

“Have you ever smelled anything like that?” I asked. “Have you seen one of those assholes before?”

“No.”

But I had. The memory stabbed me, cold and sharp. Sarrat hissed.

Curran glanced at me. “Tell me.”

“Did my aunt ever tell you how my family died?” I asked.

“She mentioned a war.”

“An army invaded them. They came from the sea. They had powerful magic unlike anything she had seen before, and they brought a horde of creatures with them. While my father and Erra were gone to a summit with other kings, they were betrayed. When my aunt and my father returned, they found their brothers and sisters murdered and creatures gnawing on their bodies. When I shared my memories with Erra, she shared hers with me.”

The vision of a creature clutching the headless body of a child and gnawing on the red stump of his neck flashed before me. “They looked like that. Similar.”

“Similar but not the same?” Curran asked.

“Erra’s creatures were gray and hairless. These were brown and had fur. But they felt the same. Like corruption. Like something that had to be undone.”

“Something that smells like a loup and shouldn’t exist.”

“Yes.”

“We need to save one for her,” he said. “I want her to look at it. What else did she tell you about them?”

“They came from the Western Sea, the Mediterranean. Shinar never feared an invasion from the sea before.”

“Why?” Curran asked.

“Sidonians,” I told him. “Ancient Phoenicians. The way Erra tells it, they called the sea their father and sailed it to raid and to sell their purple dyes. The Sidonians built walled cities inland, farther in the hinterlands, to give invaders a target. When the attacking army disembarked, the Sidonians would melt into the highlands and cut at the enemy as it marched toward the nearest city, slicing a piece there and a piece here, and vanish back into the wilderness.”

“They bled them out,” Curran said.

“Yep. By the time the army got to the city, their morale was in tatters. If any invaders managed to survive and make it back to the sea, they’d find their ships had new owners. The Sidon had one main port, Tyre, a big merchant city. Huge walls, guarded harbor, with chains across its entrance and sea beasts guarding the waters. A fortress. Impregnable.”

I paused. “My aunt told me that she met a man who’d escaped from Tyre. He told her that they had gone to bed with clear seas, and when they woke up, they couldn’t see the water because the harbor was filled with sails. The ships rained monsters. The invaders weren’t an army; they were a horde. They had magic creatures that stank of corruption, unkillable soldiers, and they burned what they took to the ground. Nothing was left standing. It was all ash.”

“Like the box,” he said.

“Like the box.”

We drove in silence.

“He wants an answer,” I ground out.

Gold flashed in Curran’s eyes. He bared his teeth. “Oh, we’ll answer. It won’t be vague, and he won’t like it, I promise you that.”

Good.

Curran steered the Jeep onto Jeremiah Street. Carnage spread across the asphalt in front of Cutting Edge. Grotesque bodies, torn and mangled, strewn on the pavement wet with blood. Mr. Tucker lay crumpled on the street, small and somehow almost lost in all the gore. In the middle of it all a man-shaped pillar of pale-gray ash rose.

“Did he ever stop smiling?” I asked.

“No. Held it until his eyes cooked in his head.”

This was above my pay grade. I had no idea how to deal with this sort of magic. That was okay. I was a quick learner.

* * *

• • •

BILL HORN CAME out of his tinker shop as we parked. Bill repaired pots, silverware, and anything that was made of metal. He also sharpened knives, and he was carrying a bowie knife large enough to kill a bear. He was short, broad-shouldered, bald, and he looked like he’d be difficult to move if he braced himself.

He walked over to where I crouched by Mr. Tucker’s body. It used to be a man. He’d said hi to us. I’d brought him iced tea. Now it was just a corpse. A split second and a life ended.

“Not your fault,” Bill said.

“Yeah, it is. I could’ve yelled at him to not come close when he first stumbled onto the street.”

“He wouldn’t have listened. The man had no goddamned sense. It’s not you. It’s this.” He indicated the bloody street with a slow sweep of his hand. “It’s the Shift.”

I didn’t say anything.

“He was a nut,” Bill told me gently.

“Yes, but he was our nut.”

Curran came up and rested his hand on my shoulder. Bill looked at Mr. Tucker’s corpse, looked at the slaughter, then looked back at Curran. “You folks need any help?”

“We got it,” Curran told him. “Thanks. Sorry about the mess.”

Bill nodded again. “I was thinking of visiting my daughter up in Gainesville.”

“Good fishing up there,” Curran said.

“Yeah,” Bill said. “My son-in-law told me he pulled a thirty-pound striped bass out of Lake Lanier. Can’t let him beat my record, you know.”

“Might be a good time to visit,” Curran said.

“You reckon about two weeks ought to do it?”

“Sounds about right.”

Bill nodded and went to his shop.

I straightened. “The neighbors are running for the hills.”

“In the four years you’ve had your office here, nobody broke into any of their shops,” Curran said. “None of them ever got hurt by any of the magical crap. We protected the street. Now they can give us a break by clearing out while we get this sorted.”

“Help me get him off the street?” I asked.

He picked up Mr. Tucker and carried him to the sidewalk in front of Cutting Edge.

I knocked on the door of my office. Teddy Jo swung it open, a very human Conlan in his arms. I took him. My son yawned and groggily smacked my face with his hand. I hugged him to me, went inside the office, and sat in a chair. I just needed thirty seconds to steady myself.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Teddy Jo leaned over the table.

“Someone sent me a wooden box full of ash with a rose and a knife in it. Apparently, he wants a response.”

Derek walked into the office and went to the supply cage where we kept bleach, gasoline, and other fun things we used for cleanup.

“Who sent it? Why? What does the box mean?” Teddy Jo asked.

“It probably means war.”

“Are we getting invaded?”

“Maybe.”

“Who’s invading us?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you must have some idea.”

“If I did, I would be doing something about it. In your experience, do I typically sit on my hands when someone is threatening the city?”

“Can you at least tell me what kind of magic this is?”

“Why do you think I would know?”

Teddy Jo pointed in the direction of the Unnamed Square. “Because that was an elder power. When someone has a problem with an elder power, they come to you. You’re an expert on evil old shit.”

“I’m trying to decide if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“If they sent you a message, they must think you would understand it. If you don’t get it, ask somebody. The city is going to hell. People are getting boiled, people are being burned alive, and you’re sitting here. You’re the In-Shinar! Do something!”