"I don't understand. Why are you leaving?" Darla asked.

We were both standing at the kitchen counter. She was cutting up potatoes, and I was peeling carrots. Luke had made himself scarce for the last hour.

"Your brother said he can't help me."

"He surprised me when he said he'd teach you. It's not something he should have agreed to." She averted her eyes. "I know about the rituals. I haven't been through them yet, but I've watched them." She put down the knife and looked at me. "I know I'm not supposed to say it. I know they expect me to go through it one day and I will. But honestly, Colina, the things they put the initiates through..."

"Luke went through them," I said.

She went back to chopping potatoes and said in a low voice, "He did. He won't admit it, but it wasn't easy for him. He had nightmares afterwards for a long time."

Luke wandered into the room. He gave me a hard stare. "You're staying for dinner?"

"I promised Darla I would," I answered.

He nodded and picked up a piece of celery off the counter.

"Luke, convince her not to leave until tomorrow. It will be dark out soon, and that gang might come back," Darla said.

"I'll make sure she gets safely into a cab," Luke answered.

Darla dropped a handful of potatoes into a pot. "Where are you going? Home?"

I hadn't told her about my family. I would leave it to Luke to fill her in on the details of my life after I left. Maybe once he did, she'd understand why I was so desperate to find a teacher.

"I'm not sure." I turned to Luke. "If you could give me the name of someone, maybe someone in your guild?"

He shook his head. "No."

I turned back to Darla. "Do you know anyone who could help me?"

She didn't answer, but instead got busy wiping off the cutting board.

Luke watched me, his face full of disapproval, but I didn't care what he thought. If he couldn't help me, I had no choice but to move on and find another way to get what I needed.

I looked him straight in the eye and said in a firm voice, "It may take time, but I'll find someone who'll teach me."

Luke frowned and moved toward the windows.

I looked down at the carrot and peeler in my hands. "What are we making again?" I wasn't much of a cook. Mama had always done all the cooking in our house.

Darla answered. "Stew. It's my uncle's recipe—" The door flew open and slammed against the wall, cutting off her words.

Men rushed in. In a moment of pure horror, I realized I recognized one of them—the bald man with a jagged scar running down one cheek heading my way. One of the men who attacked my family. I stood in shock, utterly immobile at the counter.

Luke turned and yelled, "Run!"

His words set me in motion. I dropped the peeler, grabbed Darla by the hand, and pulled her toward the windows. We needed to get to the fire escape.

Suddenly there were loud shouts, strange noises, and flashes of lights in a rainbow of colors. I didn't bother to turn around and see what was happening, instead, I focused my whole being on escape. We were within inches of the closest window when Darla's hand was yanked from mine.

I turned to see a huge shadow looming over us. A man over six feet tall with a large snake tattoo that curled around his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his black T-shirt, held onto the end of Darla's golden ponytail. He yanked on it hard enough to force her body back. His dark eyes were savage, and he bared his teeth as he dragged her away.

I reached out, grabbing for Darla. For a moment our fingers locked once again, and I pulled with all my might to try and force her free. But he was stronger, and she was soon out of my grasp. He had her now and was moving her away from me. A part of me wanted to let her go, to forget about everything but escape. A few more steps and I would make it to the window and out into the night, to safety.

Darla screamed.

I couldn't leave her. She had tried to help me and now I had to try and help her. I turned away from the windows and headed to where she was now fighting the man. He was trying to wrestle her down to the ground. I wanted to help, but I hesitated. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop him alone—he was just too big.

I turned and saw Luke standing in the middle of the room. His hands were raised in the air and lights were flinging from his fingertips. Banshees circled the room, surrounding the strangers. One lay slumped on the floor, inches from Luke. Two other men had their hands raised, too, casting spells of their own. Blue streaks of light hit a wave of purple, and the force of Luke's magic colliding with the other mages' set off sparks of all colors.

Whatever magic Luke was commanding was strong. He'd taken one of the men down, but the others were still on their feet and fighting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an unfamiliar man step forward. He seemed different from the others, and he moved with a calm confidence. He was even dressed better—where the other men wore T-shirts and jeans, this man wore a dark suit.

With a determined look on his face, the man in the suit raised his hands. A flood of banshees rushed into the room to meet Luke's. I watched in horror as Luke was forced back towards the window.

Luke wasn't going to win this fight. He was going to be overpowered, and I didn't have any magic to help him. I had no war training and no weapon in hand. Luke at any moment might die before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Once again, I was forced to stand by and watch helplessly as people were attacked and killed.

Darla screamed again. I spun back around and saw that she was only a few feet from me. The man had her pinned down. On pure instinct I started towards her and was moving across the floor when a bright orange light flooded the room. But, unlike the other colorful lights, this one came with a punch. The air rushed toward me in a wall of crackling energy, pushing me back. I stumbled, trying to stay on my feet as it washed over me like a wave.

Luke got the worst of it. The impact knocked him off his feet, throwing him through the air, and he crashed through two windows. Debris rained down in all directions as shards of glass flew my way, and I instinctively covered my head with my hands.

And then hands were on me. Someone had me around the waist. I fought, scratching and kicking. I swung my arms and made contact with a nose. I heard a male voice yelp out in pain. I kicked again. I screamed at the top of my lungs, beyond reason. I was about to die like my family. Any moment my throat would be slit, or a bullet would tear through my flesh. I fought harder until something slammed against my head, and a wave of dizziness overcame me. My body went limp as darkness surrounded me.

When I came to, a man was carrying me over his shoulder and out the front door of the shop. I could hear Darla's cries. I turned my head and watched as someone shoved her into a dark SUV. The SUV roared away, and another one screeched to a halt in front of us. The door swung open, and I was tossed inside. I let my body fall hard against the seat. An exclamation of pain rose against my lips, but I forced it back. It would be better if they thought I was still unconscious.

I heard voices next to me. "Where'd you put the rope?"

"Try under the seat," someone answered.

"That death dealer took out Angelo."

A loud curse filled the air. "Anyone else hurt?"

"I'll let you know when my ears stop ringing."

A phone rang, and then a voice answered loudly. "Yeah, we got 'em, boss. There was some trouble."

I opened one eye just a little. Next to me was a dark form—one of the men. He was only a few inches from me, bending over, his hand reaching down toward the floor. I inched up slowly. There was someone in the seat behind me with a black hood over their head. I scooted up a bit more until I could barely see over the front seat. The driver was on the phone, his eyes on the road, thankfully, and not the rearview mirror.

The car was barreling down the road and I realized I had one option, one crazy chance of getting away. If I'm going to escape, it's now or never. I grabbed the handle and swung the door open. Before I could change my mind, I flung myself out the door and felt my body fly through the air. Pavement rushed up to meet me as the right side of my body slammed hard against the ground. I rolled, bumping and scraping along the pavement. Every time my body hit, bursts of pain exploded inside my head. I slowly came to a stop and lay there on the side of the road, stunned. The breath was completely knocked out of me. When I could finally breathe again the first intake of air was so painful, I cried out. Patches of exposed skin were scratched and bleeding. I sat up slowly, wincing.

I barely had time to assess my injuries before the sound of screeching tires got me to my feet. I started to run, limping, before I ventured a quick look back. They were turning around, coming back for me. I forced myself to move faster, but my ankle buckled, and I stumbled. I couldn't stop, not now that I could hear the car close behind me. I sucked in one breath and ignored the pain. There was no way I could outrun them. A ten-foot chain link fence ran along the road to my right. I changed direction and headed for the fence. When I hit it, I didn't stop, I just slammed my fingers into the first openings and propelled myself up. One hand and foot at a time, I climbed, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle and side. I didn't dare stop or glance back. I just kept climbing. The only sound in my ears was my breath, now coming out in gasps.

I rolled over the top of the fence, catching the edge of my shirt on the sharp, twisted wires. I pulled myself free with one hand and made my way down, climbing, sliding, and finally dropping the last four feet, crying out in pain as my injured leg made contact with the pavement.

The car stopped, and the men started to get out, but as I dropped to the ground on the other side, the driver yelled, and they all got back in. The SUV spun ahead.

They were going to go around and find the first opening in the fence or make their way up the street and around the block, circling around until they found me.

I pushed myself off the ground and ran. Every time I came to the edge of a building, I turned or changed direction. Around one building and then past another, down one alley and then up the next.

I ran until I couldn't run any longer. My chest was burning, I was gasping, and my legs refused to go on. I had to find cover. Finally, I squeezed behind a large, metal dumpster. I slumped down against a brick wall, my legs giving out. When my bruised body made contact with the dirt, I gasped in pain.

I don't know how long I stayed huddled behind the dumpsters, but when I finally emerged, it was dark and cold. I cautiously looked around the corner. No cars anywhere. The place was deserted. I had no idea where I was or if I could make my way back to Luke's.

Luke. A sob escaped as the image of his body flying through the air and slamming through the broken windows slid across my mind. Could anyone survive such a thing? I stood helpless as he battled for his life.

I gave myself a mental shake and forced myself to concentrate on the here and now. I have to keep moving, but my surroundings were completely unfamiliar. I had taken so many twists and turns that I was completely turned around. I wrapped my arms around my body for warmth and slowly made my way down the alley.