The sun had set hours ago, and Gretta was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but Sofia still hadn’t woken up from her overexertion. With the setting sun came the biting cold of the desert. Rowan had two wool blankets, but Sofia’s little body was wrapped in both. Gretta was considering shifting to cat form for both the fur and because she could then curl up next to Sofia on the small foam mattress and be comfortable.

Gretta debated whether sleeping when the kid was sleeping off exhaustion from magic would be irresponsible or if sleep was the responsible choice. After all, if somebody found them and Gretta wasn’t fully rested, she might not be able to protect Sofia.

She was about to curl up next to Sofia on the mattress when a sound came from the cellar trapdoor.

“Gretta,” a familiar male voice whispered.

She moved to the ladder. “Rowan?”

Rowan opened the trapdoor. “You need to grab Sofia and get out of here!”

Gretta felt a mixture of relief and anger at seeing Rowan, but the urgency in her voice brought her back to the present. She glanced back at the sleeping form.

“Sofia’s unconscious from pulling too much magic. What’s happening? Where have you been?”

“Long story. The FBI took me. I escaped and came back, but I believe Gabriela is on her way here,” Rowan rattled off.

“They are now,” Gretta said irritably. “You probably led them here.”

“They were already on their way, but I don’t think they know exactly where you are,” Rowan said. “I sense they are in the area but are still looking for Sofia. If we leave now, we might get away before they arrive.” He didn’t mention the voice. There was no sense in telling Gretta about shadowy helpers.

Gretta picked up Sofia and the blankets and ran back to the ladder. “Take her.”

Rowan reached down and pulled up the unconscious child. “She’s really out of it,” he said.

“She wanted to learn a healing spell.” Gretta hopped up to the surface and closed the cellar trap door. “She passed out.”

“Wow,” Rowan said. “I’m surprised you let her try that.”

“Can we talk about it later?” Gretta scanned the desert for threats, knowing that Gabriela and her armed thugs were out there.

“Sure,” Rowan said. “I’m not used to being the responsible one. I don’t mind savoring it. Follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Gretta said.

Rowan led the way through between patches of scrub and cacti. “I borrowed an FBI car.”

“We’re going to get out of here in a stolen FBI car?”

“No, don’t be silly,” Rowan said. “I managed to siphon gas from it, and your car now has enough gas to make it out of here.”

“They’ll be looking for my car,” she said.

“Maybe, but I figured we’d get further than we would in a distinct stolen car. I smeared mud on your rear license plate to make it fairly illegible, so maybe that will help.”

Gretta rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’ll fool them. I thought you were some sort of trickster disciple. You didn’t learn anything in training.”

Rowan frowned. “Tricksters are forged on the street, not in a school.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Get down,” Gretta whispered, pulling on Rowan’s arm to get him to kneel.

Flashlights bobbed toward them. This, more than the cold night air, gave Gretta goosebumps.

“I’ll hold them off. Get Sofia out of here,” Gretta said.

Rowan shoved Sofia toward Gretta. “You are the one who can protect her, and you’ll be able to help her. This is my chance to buy you some time.”

Gretta hesitated. Her tiger form wasn’t fully healed. Her elephant form was hurt. She could use it, but they’d likely to mow her down in a hail of bullets.

“What are you going to do?” She took Sofia’s sleeping form.

“The car is about 100 yards that way,” Rowan said. “Stay low, don’t look back, and don’t stop.”

“Rowan,” Gretta said urgently.

Rowan patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Gretta watched Rowan stay low as he dashed back in the direction they had come. When he was ten yards away, his footsteps became remarkably louder, and she heard him swear loudly. The idiot was intentionally drawing their attention.

While carrying the child, Gretta kept as low as she could manage and dashed toward the car. She was nearly there when she heard a dozen shots and dogs barking. Her heart had been racing, but now it was moving at hummingbird speeds.

“Damn it, Rowan.”

She reached her car, opened the back door, and slid Sofia in. She ran around to the driver's side and was about to get in when she heard a single gunshot. There was something final in that. She stood frozen, waiting to hear more, but the night was silent and cold. A cold sensation spread from her gut outward.

Gretta got in and started the car, keeping the headlights off. She put the car in gear and made a U-turn back toward the city. Anybody chasing her would be looking further out, right?

She flipped her lights on when she reached a highway and turned east.

“Why are you crying?” Sofia asked from the backseat.

Gretta glanced back. “Rowan gave us time to get away.”

“He came back!” Sofia said, beaming.

“He did.” Gretta was both smiling and crying. “The idiot decided to lead the people chasing you away.”

“He’ll find us again,” Sofia said.

Gretta had to press her lips together so as not to let out a sob. That last gunshot felt very final. That wasn’t somebody wildly shooting a moving target. That sounded like an execution.

“Where are we going?” Sofia asked.

After being sure she had control of her voice, Gretta cleared her throat and answered, “New Mexico.”

Why was she sad about an idiot she barely knew? He probably planned the whole thing, and he was doing this so that she’d be impressed by how brave he was when he came back later. She was not impressed. Rowan was an idiot, and she refused to see what he did as anything but stupidity. He wasn’t dead. He probably was faking it. That’s what a disciple of the Trickster would do. Unfortunately, she couldn’t believe her own reasoning. Somehow, she could feel he was gone. There was a space in the fabric of magic that had felt empty right after that gunshot.

Ahead, she spotted flashing lights, and traffic was slowing down.

“Crap!” Gretta looked for a spot to turn off the highway. She was considering turning around when the flashing lights flipped on behind her.

A voice magnified by a bullhorn called out, “FBI! Pull over!”

Gretta sighed and pulled over. She wasn’t going to start a high-speed chase with a child in the backseat, and the FBI weren’t monsters who would hurt a child.

The moment her car stopped, four agents were running toward her vehicle. She kept her hands on the steering wheel and in plain sight. The agents were all holding guns pointed at her.

“Get out of the vehicle. Interlace your fingers behind your head and lay facedown on the ground.”

Gretta stepped out of the vehicle with her hands up and, as instructed, got down on the ground. The pavement was still warm from the day, but the night air was cold.

In moments, she was handcuffed and patted down.

“Gretta, don’t let them take me,” Sofia said.

“It’ll be okay,” Gretta said, though she wasn’t sure this was true.

The FBI was known to have a department that kept an eye out for magic users. People they found disappeared without a trial. They wouldn’t suspect a child of being a magic user, though. They’d get her back to her mother.

A wave of magic washed over her, bringing the feeling of judgment.

“Look what we have here,” a man in a gold shirt and green tie said. “We lost a coyote but gained a tiger. I think that’s an upgrade.”

Gretta clenched her teeth. She’d seen cop shows. She had the right to remain silent and probably a few other rights she wished she knew right then, but of course, they probably wouldn’t apply to her. To the FBI, magic users weren’t technically humans and could be treated with the same disregard as squirrels and skunks.

The man knelt next to her. “We’re going to have such a fun talk about where the coyote got off to. Even if you don’t talk, I wonder if he’ll return for you. I’ll bet he will, and we’ll be ready to throw a party.”