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out of him but I had the strange feeling he liked this small Fae.
    "He 's not one of us. And by that, I mean neither Fae or Werewolf."
    "Why do you say that?" I asked.
    Burrom hesitated for only a couple of seconds before he tried to explain. "When I met him, Tracker said he was one of them, which I knew for a lie. I knew he wasn't pure Wolf but I figured he was some sort of relation and it was simply a stretch on the truth. We don't normally shake hands, that's a human thing, but he extended his hand to me. I thought he'd assimilated, but something niggled at me, so I threw up a blocker when I grasped his hand." He paused and looked directly to me, "It stops an inflow of energy," he explained and then continued, "I felt something odd. It wasn't a spell, but it sure as hell wasn't human or Wolf either. He was trying to do something to me."
    "What?" I asked.
    "I've got no idea." He shook his head and looked as frustrated by the lack of information as we were. You could tell he wasn't used to being in the dark on anything.
    "Any guess what he might be?" I asked.
    "No."
    "You see him again or hear anything, you call me immediately," Cormac said.
    Burrom nodded . We left his office and we headed out through the club. When the fresh night air hit my lungs, I couldn't take a breath deep enough to cleanse myself of the smog we'd just left. I watched Cormac's Ferrari pull up; the kid threw him his keys and disappeared as quickly as he had come.
    I was just about to walk around to my side of the car when Cormac bum rushed me and tackled me to the ground. My body hit the pavement as I felt the burn of flesh as it was shaved off my body as I slid along the rough surface with two hundred plus pounds sliding on top of me. My first thought was to start yelling that just because I could take a beating didn 't mean they should think it was okay to rough me up all the time. Before I could say anything, bullets whizzed past my head and ricocheted through the alley answering the question. His entire weight crushed down upon me.
    "Cormac?" I asked, hoping the dead weight didn 't mean what I thought.
    Nothing.
    "Cormac!" My voice sounded slightly hysterical to even me.
    I didn 't hear anymore bullets and I needed to get him out of there. From what I did know, Alchemists could take a beating, I knew that from personal experience. What I didn't know was how much of one. There were limits. Cormac had reminded me on several occasions that we could be killed.
    As I felt the sticky warmth between our bodies, I knew that even with our capabilities, you still needed blood. If he bled out, it would be game over. I pushed at him with a strength I didn 't know I had and rolled out from underneath him. I didn't wait even a second before I grabbed his arms and started to drag all six feet plus of him toward the passenger side of the car. If I hadn't had so much adrenaline pumping, I'm not sure I would have made it, but I had to get him out of the open. The car was the nearest cover in an alley where we were caught like fish in a barrel. When nothing shot at us again, I assumed the shooter had taken off.
    I should 've looked around, but I didn't, so intent on dragging his lifeless body to the car. I was in pure reaction mode. Until a bullet whizzed so close to me I felt it move a lock of hair away from my face.
    Then I saw him. The senator stood in the alley, about ten feet from me. Silver temples, accented dark hair. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit with cuff links that peaked out of the sleeves and shoes that gleamed. But no gun.
    "That would be my sniper," he waved toward the rooftop of the building we had just come out of. I saw a man dressed in all black, complete with a ski mask, who stood there with a gun pointed on me. I looked down, a little red dot danced against the white of my shirt.
    I let Cormac 's arms fall to the ground and stepped in front of him to shield him from any more bullets, knowing he was hanging on by a thread.
    "What do