THIRTY
Nerves threatened to paralyze Sage as she approached the night gate of her apartment complex. Lamps dotted the pathways, their dim light protecting only tiny spheres of concrete from the ever-encroaching threat of darkness. The circus of firefighters had long since left, but the air still smelled of damp smoke.
Every shadow could be a lurking enemy. People she passed on the sidewalk could be spies. She couldn’t rely on her palm to act as an alarm system. The Mystics operated with complete anonymity, and many in their employ were humans.
The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. Sage pulled the dagger Grey had given her, and held it at the ready, wishing she had something a little more powerful. Daggers were her favorite kind of weapon, but in this case, she didn
