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It’s a sustained group emotion and getting worse. Something has them trapped, and some of them are about to die. The human body isn’t capable of sustaining stress reactions for prolonged periods of time. It’s damaging. Now, is this door going to explode?”
    “I don’t think so,” Arktos said slowly.
    “Good.” Rage pushed the door open with exaggerated care and peeked inside. “Looks like a concert crowd. Maybe a benefit show of some kind?”
    “Henry West was giving a speech here. It’s not campaign season yet, but he likes to make the rounds to keep the donors interested.”
    Her smile was a little cruel. “Lots of old people with money?”
    “That sounds about right.”
    “I see two people on stage. One of them’s an emotional manipulator, but I can’t tell which, they’re too close together.”
    Arktos leaned in, aware he was brushing against her body as he peeked inside. On stage was a blonde in a stunningly short red dress. Next to her stood a man wreathed in flames.
    “I think the blonde’s the mind-raper. I want to talk to her. She won’t be able to manipulate me.”
    “Because you’re special, right?”
    He glared at her, trying not to smile when she didn’t flinch. “Yes, because I’m special. See if you can get the pyro to hold still while I talk to the blonde.”
    “I have a better idea.” She pulled her jacket off, revealing an angry red wound on her arm with fresh stitches. “Hold this.” Tossing her red curls so they caught the light, Rage stepped into the room.
    Arktos wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to do, but as she moved he was hit by the overwhelming desire to stare at her. Rage fascinated him, the way the light caressed her fiery curls, the graceful curve of her hip. He imagined what her hand would feel like as it stroked him. How soft would her lips be when he kissed her?
    He shook his head and refocused on the thieves. One of them was missing. There were always three: the blonde, the pyro, and the bagman who wore a mask. Where was their bagman?
    “Attention, ladies and gentlemen! Hello!” Rage waved.
    Everyone turned to face her, including the criminals. Arktos eased his way into the shadows by the door and headed for the mind-raper on the stage. Katrina from the head office had sent him a detailed description of the woman who’d molested a child and injured a police officer escaping from Bugman. He hadn’t expected her to come here, but he wasn’t surprised either. California attracted all sorts of freaks.
    “Boys and girls, I hate to break up such a fun party, but Mommy and Daddy need some alone time now. Sweet cheeks”—Rage pointed at the blonde with her Prada bag, no doubt filled with stolen jewelry—”It’s not Halloween, you shouldn’t be trick-or-treating. Put it down.”
    The blonde dropped her bag of stolen goodies.
    Arktos grabbed it. “Can you get the people out?” The pyro was shaking, and if he lost control someone would get hurt.
    “Show’s over!” Rage said.
    A strong desire to head for his car washed over Arktos. Then fear, which was buffeted by lust, and followed by terror. The emotions grabbed at him, worse than any childhood night terror, pulling away his focus. Rage and the pyro stood toe-to-toe, staring at each other.
    He edged toward the blonde, not quite able to take his eyes off Rage.
    Fear made his mouth go dry.
    Rage moved without warning, bringing her knee up and dropping the pyro with ball-aching accuracy.
    His head cleared and he made a grab for the blonde, but she was racing off with the crush of fleeing people.
    The pyro groaned a curse. “I’m going to kill you.”
    Rage tilted her head to the side. “So sweet. We’ve just met and you’re already offering me death threats. It’s adorable.”
    “I’m not adorable!” The pyro lunged at Rage.
    Arktos moved without thinking, diving between the pyro and the rogue, and throwing up a shield of ice. It steamed.
    Something dug into his shoulder. He rolled sideways