"SCATTER!" Buck roared.

  The group broke in every direction just as Tim—now nothing but muscle, flame and rage—charged straight for Sparks. One clawed hand swung down like an executioner’s axe. Sparks dove and rolled, slipping between the dragon’s legs. The stench of scorched flesh hit him as Tim lumbered past, back covered in bloody, rupturing sores.

  Sparks slammed his palms to the ground. Black obsidian chains, cracked with blue fire, exploded up around Tim’s ankle and yanked tight.

  "Now!"

  Hazelnut flashed past in a blur of red. Blood sprayed as she cut deep behind Tim’s knee. Sparks recoiled at the crack of bone as Tim twisted and broke his own leg trying to pivot. Another chain snared his wrist an instant before it could crush Hazelnut. She flung her dagger point-first through his palm—then tumbled clear.

  "Tim! Stop this!" Krouri shouted from above. "We didn't know it was you! Let us help—"

  A jet of flame roared up at her, boiling the air.

  "Why would I want help from any of you!?" Tim bellowed. "I’LL DEVOUR YOU ALL!"

  "…All right then," Krouri muttered—and unleashed a spell of vicious, mocking words so sharp they made Tim stagger as though struck. "You're a scared, chattering failure of a waiter, a person, and certainly of a serial killer. It's a wonder you got as far as you did. No wonder Sparks was able to beat you by himself. With all four of us, we’re taking you down!"

  That was Buck’s cue. He fired.

  The tranquilizer dart punched through scale and sunk into Tim’s side. For a heartbeat, nothing happened…then his muscles began to slacken. His head sagged. The chains drooped as the dragon’s body went still.

  Sparks exhaled slowly.

  A glow began to brighten in Tim’s chest.

  "What…" Buck whispered as smoke trickled up from the dart wound.

  Tim’s eyes snapped open—clear. Focused. Sober. He exhaled a plume of black smoke and Buck’s stomach dropped.

  "Matchstick!" Buck yelled. "DO SOMETHING!"

  Sparks concentrated. He raised his hands. A sphere of roiling orange and blue fire formed between them—Kindling’s power blazing bright. He hurled it. Kindling leapt off the fireball mid-flight, wrapping Hazelnut in a protective blue bubble as the blast hit home.

  The explosion rocked the entire cavern. Tree limbs were vaporized. The park cratered. Smoke rose into the shape of a blooming lotus.

  Silence.

  Then—a single step. Tim emerged from the firestorm, hobbling, mangled leg dragging behind him—still moving.

  Hazelnut dashed forward and slammed the pommel of her dagger into his gut. Tim dropped to his knees, choking, blood pouring from his mouth—then dropped chin to chest as the light died in his eyes.

  A heartbeat—and then cheers erupted across the park.

  "We got him!" Hazelnut cried, throwing her arms around Sparks. Sparks struck a ridiculous pose for a selfie with the corpse. "Hashtag Fixer? More like hashtag broken!"

  Buck let himself breathe. Not how he’d pictured it—but the Cremation Killer was finally down.

  Then he saw it.

  A glint of metal from a rooftop opposite the park. A red dot traced across the burned ground—moving straight toward Sparks and Hazelnut.

  "SNIPER!" Buck shouted. "DOWN!"

  Hazelnut was already in motion. She shoved Sparks to the ground as a silent projectile landed squarely in Tim's neck.

  A syringe filled with the same sickly, yellow substance emptied, the contents flooding into his body. Tim's head jerked upwards. His eyes rolled back. Mouth opened in silent scream as his entire body began to sizzle and smoke. Scales broke and fell away, charred to a crisp.

  "Oh no," Krouri breathed.

  Tim detonated.

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  The blast ripped across the park in a burst of fire, bone and viscera.

  The glint of the rifle pulled away from the edge as Buck pointed to the rooftop. "There! MOVE!"

  Sparks and Hazelnut were already gone, scrambling up the building’s wall. They vaulted onto the rooftop and spotted their shooter: short, gas mask, tactical gear—the same one giving orders back at the lounge.

  Sparks threw the obsidian chains again, but the shooter flicked a button from his cuff. It shattered against the stones of the rooftop and the chains flickered away into useless smoke.

  "Who are you?" Hazelnut demanded.

  The voice behind the mask was calm. Cold. "Didn’t know who you were before. Now it makes sense. You aren’t the only ones fighting for the truth." He turned and sprinted toward the far edge.

  Hazelnut grabbed his gear mid-run and felt her fingers brushing a metal disk and folded paper inside his coat. "You don’t have to do this—!" he hissed.

  "Your little crusade is becoming very expensive."

  He ripped another cuff-button as Sparks, now a massive orange bear, barreled forth and slammed into him. They both went flying off the rooftop. The spell only half-triggered—the shooter drifted, slow and weightless, down toward the aqueduct far below. Gravity pulled Sparks into a dumpster in a shower of trash and curses.

  "SPARKS! Get on the bike—NOW!" Buck straddled and revved a nearby motorcycle. The shooter's planned escape route was now their boon.

  Krouri soared overhead. "He’s out of the water! Heading south!"

  They tore down the street, following her wingbeats. But the marketplace ahead was packed—wall to wall bodies. Buck and Sparks were forced to dive into the crowd on foot, pushing, searching—

  Wet bootprints.

  A discarded jacket.

  No shooter.

  Buck slammed his hat to the cobblestones, furious.

  Gone. Again.

  *  *  *

  Firefighters were finishing off the last of the flames by the time Buck and Sparks returned to the ruptured remains of the park. Krouri was speaking quietly with Zywrath near the charred crater. "He cut through the market," she was saying. "Once he hit those tents I lost sight of him."

  Buck threw the drenched coat to the ground. "Slippery bastard."

  Zywrath bent down, eyebrow twitching as he lifted it into an evidence bag. "Efficient, though. They clearly understood what Fixer really was." He motioned toward the scorched circle that used to be Tim. "I will be honest—I am not sure where we go from here. And yet… part of me believes Justice was served here today." He looked at each of them. "Either of you see anything that might help?"

  Sparks shrugged, shoulders sagging. "Same mask style as the lounge crew. Beyond that… nothing I recognized."

  "I still can’t believe it was Tim," Buck muttered. "Sitting there pouring coffee while plotting arson and murder right under our noses."

  Zywrath’s brow knit. "Tim—the waiter?" Buck nodded. "Hells…then the diner was probably surveillance. A perfect place to listen in."

  Buck felt the familiar tug of the Mystery in his skull. The itch of an unexplored thread.

  Sparks was already inching away. "Well, this is dreadfully interesting and all, but I believe Hazelnut and I have an appointment regarding her finances and I'm afraid it's a private matter so..."

  Zywrath spun on him. "The only appointment you have is—" He stopped, looking around for someone. "Where is Trinity?" His radio crackled. He listened, paled and took off, barking orders across the field.

  Sparks leaned in to the others while Zywrath moved away. "What’d you pull off him?" he whispered.

  Hazelnut reached into her skirt pocket. A pharmacy receipt and a tarnished coin.

  Sparks sucked in a breath. "That’s… Taurence?"

  Hazelnut nodded, brows drawn tight. "My father."

  Buck blinked. "The shooter’s your dad?"

  "My adoptive father," she corrected softly. "He warned me last night that he could only protect me—not anyone else. Now I know what he meant."

  Across the way, a TV blared through the broken window of a storefront. A massive crowd of protesters were flooding the steps of City Hall. Mayor Bumble's shouts into a megaphone could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. Zywrath returned, jaw clenched. "I have to go. The situation at City Hall is spiraling. After today, I am not sure how much longer I am going to be a police officer. You kicked up a lot of dirt in the mayor's office but to be fair, I am okay with that." He looked pointedly at Sparks. "As far as I’m concerned, you were gone when I got here. Do not make me regret this."

  *  *  *

  Hazelnut’s apartment was a welcome haven of warmth and normalcy until Iggy’s tight hug and frantic "Poppy said the city’s ON FIRE!" ignited something in Buck’s mind. The City was on fire, in a way, and Trinity was a no-show at the park.

  Why?

  Iggy's fumbling with the remote changed the TV station to a live newscast. A large building in Stoneroot was fully engulfed in flames. Buck watched Captain Trinity stagger from the smoke carrying two unconscious mailroom clerks—the Crier Dispatch was ablaze.

  Krouri’s phone was already at her ear. "Please pick up, please pick up—click—Dad? Dad, are there?"

  A long pause…then Pazienza’s voice slithered through the speaker.

  "Simon can't come to the phone right now." A beat. "Miss Kukri… You and your friends have made a very big mistake."

  The line went dead.

  Krouri’s phone slipped from her hand as she stared at the screen. Her family’s building, her home, collapsing in flames. Hazelnut was at her side instantly, easing her into a chair.

  Buck’s jaw clenched so hard it creaked.

  The soft vibration of another phone cut through the silence.

  Hazelnut looked down—the Aethercorp business card in her pocket was moving, reshaping itself until it became a small ringing phone. The caller ID glowed: Feng Aether.

  She answered and put it on speaker.

  "Miss Bushytail," Feng said, voice sharp as broken glass, "How much is it worth to you to tell me everything you know about what the hell is happening in this city?"