Emery turned off the fast-track path in the Realm. Ever-blooming flowers lined the side of the cobblestone track, giving the slight breeze a floral fragrance. A green meadow stretched away, dotted by small huts with grass roofs in the distance.

He’d picked the fastest possible route to the gateway into the Brink, on pins and needles the whole time.

After that first foretelling about Penny’s possible demise, he’d received two more of the black mist visions in quick succession. He couldn’t totally make out the situation based on the fits and starts of the scenes, but in the end, it seemed like she was battling vampires in a very nice house.

He’d rarely seen vampires engage in open battle in the Brink unless defending themselves from the shifters, and one of those vampires had looked very old, which was even rarer, yet—if he had made sense of the images—that was exactly what had happened. In that very nice house.

Trust Penny to engage in something that made very little sense.

There had been a pause after that, long enough to lodge his heart in his throat. Had all of those close calls eventually ended in her death?

But then he’d had one more.

A dark area outside. A leafy tree leaning over a weed-choked patch. And a shape sitting within the shadows, its identity obscured.

There had been no movement, and no sense of urgency. Just an open letter of warning.

He’d never experienced that type of foretelling before. Usually the situation was immediate, and if he didn’t react, he was done. But this…

He didn’t know what was happening, but it was unfolding on a large scale, and it involved Penny.

He’d been walking before he knew it. She needed help, and he would offer what help he could give.

It had only belatedly occurred to him that she might not want his help. He’d left her in the lurch, after all. He’d walked away with a “Good luck, I traded my monetary freedom to an elder vampire so he’d watch over you, which will probably shackle you to him for life. Bye-bye, you’re welcome!”

By now she either hated him or wished he’d just leave her alone already.

But he couldn’t. That was the bottom line. He couldn’t, not only because she was in danger, but also because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

On the walk through the Realm, trying to get to the Brink gateway closest to her whereabouts, he’d made a compromise with himself. He’d just check on her. That was all. She didn’t even have to know he was in the area. He’d get a glimpse of her beautiful face (possibly from a distance, like a true creep), maybe talk to the Bankses, and calmly assess the situation.

If he wasn’t needed, fine. But at least he would know she was safe and happy. He couldn’t offer her a single thing, but he could ensure things were going well for her. That, at least, was in his power.

A white, fuzzy line jagged through the air up ahead, indicating a gateway into the Brink. To the side was a bench with an old-fashioned street light next to it. On the bench sat an old and slightly deformed creature. The elves had designed all of the gates to be especially beautiful—an ego thing—and this being’s ugly appearance and stunted growth made it an eyesore. Based on its characteristics, Emery guessed it was some form of goblin, which was odd.

Goblins almost always crossed to the Brink in darkened places, like mines or deep forests. Though some could take the form of a human, most could not, and if they went into more populated areas, they’d be noticed immediately. A big no-no in the magical community. So for this one to be hanging out here, by the gate that let out closest to New Orleans, meant something was amiss.

Emery slowed, on his guard.

The goblin, whose head had been nodding like it was asleep, jerked up and blinked its knobby eyes. It looked around and smacked its slobbery lips, only then noticing Emery’s presence.

“Oh.” It shifted in its seat and stretched out its legs. “Oh.” It bent one leg, then the other. “Forgive, master. Forgive.” It stood up stiffly, as though it’d been sitting on that bench for days. “I must’ve dozed off within such a lovely area. Forgive me.”

The creature stomped through the row of flowers separating itself from Emery, who narrowed his eyes. Goblins, as a whole, did not cherish flowers, meadows, and soft breezes. They’d prefer dark, dank little caverns filled with unsuspecting humans carrying valuable trinkets ripe for the stealing.

Clearly this goblin assumed Emery knew very little about the creatures of the Realm. Something that got many a Realm creature killed.

At the end of a newly created dirt trail, the creature stopped and looked up at Emery.

“You are the Rogue Natural, are you not?” it asked.

Emery started slowly weaving an attack spell he knew worked particularly well on goblins and the like. “Who’s asking?”

It nodded, as though that was answer enough. “I’ve been posted here to stop the Rogue Natural from using this crossing. My great master believes this crossing is too near New Orleans. A crossing at this point will likely have devastating consequences, since mages are continually setting up spells on the other side. The Rogue Natural should, therefore, choose a crossing in another part of the country. One of the coasts would be ideal—the busier the better. Should the Rogue Natural agree to follow these precautions, intended to keep the Rogue Natural and the creature Penny safe, the Rogue Natural may call my great master from whatever location it uses to enter the Brink, and my great master will send its jet to collect the Rogue Natural.”

Emery shifted, putting a little more space between himself and the goblin. The spell he’d spun unraveled because of the time lapse, and Emery started it again, intending to be ready at a moment’s notice in case this was a trap.

Though he doubted the Guild would use a goblin to carry out their bidding. They wouldn’t want to be connected with such a vile, mischievous little creature, but he had a notion of someone who wouldn’t particularly mind…

“Your master is Durant, then?” Emery asked.

The goblin hissed. “One does not use names in places where little ears are known to hide just out of sight.”

“You used my nickname.”

“You are not my great master.”

“Fabulous.” Emery glanced at the fuzzy line separating the worlds. He’d known it would be dicey entering so close to New Orleans if the Guild was already set up there, but without a car, proper ID, or any of the other items required to purchase travel in the Brink, he hadn’t had much choice. Until now, he’d been hoping in and out of the Realm.

He ran his fingers through his hair. The logic checked out on what the creature was saying. If he did land somewhere else, Darius would definitely collect him. The vampire liked to keep tabs on all of his assets, and after asking him for a favor, Emery was definitely in his pocket.

If only that was the least of his problems.

“Fine.” Emery stepped away. “Get word to your master that I will oblige.”

“Of course, master.”

Emery barely kept from swearing as he headed back to the fast-track magical path. The Mages’ Guild had attacked him, the last black mist vision had implied they’d also attacked Penny—or were toying with the idea—and now they were covering the crossings. They were already organized and their plans were well underway. Time was winding down, and he’d just increased his travel time by days. And that was if Darius was quick to send a jet.

If Penny was in danger and on her own, days could make the difference between her freedom and magical enslavement.