8
The pain in my foot subsided, and a warm glow suffused the parking lot. The monk covered his eyes with his right hand and revealed his left hand was not human, but rather a wolf’s paw. The shadows that had been circling me fell back when Max appeared beside me. He wore an immaculately tailored dark blue suit and white Oxford shirt open at the collar, and he carried a flaming torch. The light sparked off his reddish-brown hair.
“Can’t stay out of trouble for one day, can you?” he asked. He slanted his torch toward the monk, who shrank back but watched him with glittering eyes.
“Get that witchfire out of my face, wizard,” he snarled.
“Leave this woman alone. Her battle is not ours.”
“Her family owes me a price. I will collect it, if not now, then later.”
“You know the rules.”
“Aye,”
