Owen could just barely make out the profile of his brother?s face in the dark. They stood side-by-side, their backs pressed to the cold stone wall and their chests pounding hard. His brother?s breathing was less harsh than his, but still loud and haggard enough to be heard over distant sound of shouts and animalistic snarls. The acrid smell of gunfire hung in the air, mixed with the heady thick and coppery taint of freshly spilled blood. Some of that was his own, the odor close to home due to the large cut along his right cheek that had bled mercilessly for a few short seconds before he and Cavan had taken cover behind that wall. His brother had not healed the wound, not really, but he?d stopped the bleeding with a gesture and a short incantation. That didn?t remove the blood that was mixed in with the bristles on his jaw, though, and so he could smell it all the same.

The sounds of their pursuers drew closer and Owen sighed in exasperation. His brother?s eyes seemed to glow for just a moment as he exercised his Sight, and so Owen watched him expectantly.

?They have hounds,? Cavan said, his voice deep with a thick brogue.

?I have ears,? Owen?s voice was quieter than his brothers, softer in nature and contained only a trace of that same brogue.

?Six,? Cavan continued without acknowledging the snarky interruption. ?Six hounds, ten men. Fuck , Owen. Where do we go from here??

Owen adjusted the strap of the black bag that was slung from shoulder to hip and tugged it around to hang in front of him. Quickly, he unzipped the bag and shoved a hand inside and out came a slender metal rod roughly one foot in length along with a talisman fashioned of metal with a seven-pointed star set in a circle. It hung from a strip of leather which he looped around his neck before removing the bag, zipping it up, and shoving it into Cavan?s chest.

?Get to the car, move around the block to the deli. I?ll meet you there.?

?Are you sure?? Cavan asked as he took the bag and slung it around his shoulder.

?There?s enough here for me to work with,? Owen said. ?Just going to stall them. I?ll be right behind you.?

?Be careful, brother,? Cavan said. He clapped Owen on the shoulder, nodded curtly, and then ran off.

A hound zipped right through the doorway to Owen?s left and chased after his brother, but he thrust out with the talisman and sent with it a force of will. The ground under the large dog?s feet shimmered briefly and then changed completely, the cold linoleum tile replaced with thick, wet sand that sucked at the hound?s paws and slowed its progress considerably. Barking sounded behind and in front of him and the clatter of boots was loud in the cavernous hallway just on the other side of that open doorway. Owen sighed, gripping the metal rod tight, and stepped into the hall.

The building was an old hospital that had been recently shut down for multiple violations of codes Owen neither had the time nor the inclination to learn about and understand. It had become the perfect breeding ground for the special kind of nasty that he and Cavan had been investigating that night, but neither of them had expected armed men with attack dogs to be on site. Still, the duo had always been quick on their feet and Owen?s little display ? thanks in no small part due to the talisman and rod that amplified his abilities ? gave them both enough breathing room to escape. Cavan had followed Owen?s instructions to the letter and was waiting inside the beat up red truck across the street from the deli that was just around the block from the hospital. Somewhere in the distance Owen heard sirens and when he looked over his shoulder down the dark, poorly lit street he could see just the glimpses of flashing multicolored lights as police cars came down the steeply sloping up-and-down road that cut through this metropolitan spread of the city.

If they could see him he?d only be a black dot at the edges of their vision and so Owen didn?t fret nor waste time in getting to the truck and climbing into the passenger seat. His bag was sitting in the floor in front of his seat so he bent down to shove the rod and talisman into it as Cavan put the truck into gear and covered the gas pedal with a large booted foot. The engine roared and rumbled noisily as the truck hurried off in the opposite direction of all those lights and ever approaching sirens.

The two didn?t share words for a long while, not until after they?d left downtown and then the outskirts of the city and were on a lonesome interstate highway surrounded by miles of no man?s land on either side.

?Are you alright?? Cavan asked.

?Yeah, fine,? Owen rolled the window down to let the howl of wind come in and splash against the thin sheen of sweat on his face. ?When are you going to fix the damned AC, Cavan??

?You sure you?re alright??

?It?s fucking August. You can?t have a broken AC in August, not this far south.?

?We?re going to Chicago, aren?t we??

?Yeah, but come on, Cavan. Embrace the twenty-first century. You?re still driving a manual.?

Cavan rolled his eyes and focused on the road, large pale hands closing tight around the thin black steering wheel. The brothers shared many similarities in appearance. Both had violent red hair, pale green eyes, and fair skin. They were of similar height though Cavan outweighed him by a good hundred pounds which was mostly muscle compared to Owen?s slender and slight frame. Cavan had a different look to his eyes than Owen, however. His brother?s gaze was confident and strong. Cavan?s radiated quiet intensity, a sure sense of self that didn?t require the constant validation Owen seemed to seek out.

?Owen?? Cavan started low, his words trailing off as he glanced aside momentarily to catch his brother?s eye.

?I?m fine, Cavan. I promise, everything went off without a hitch.?

?I wouldn?t say that.?

?Well it was resolved in a satisfactory manner. You got it??

?In the bag.?

Owen bent down in his seat to grab the bag by the strap, pausing to begrudgingly roll the window up about halfway before he dragged the bag into his lap. After unzipping it and reaching inside he produced a small bundle wrapped in brown paper, roughly the size of two of his fists, and started to unwrap it.

?Careful, Owen.?

Ignoring his brothers cautious warning, Owen continued tearing at the paper with thin fingers until something dark and heavy thudded into his lap. He reached to flick the overhead light of the truck cab on and picked up the dark stone object.

It was a rough statuette carved to look like a man sitting on a stool, its origin decidedly African or Afro-centric. The little runes carved into the base of the statue seemed starkly out of place, however. Part of this was due to the fact that they were clean and precise whereas the rest of the item was rounded and rough as though it had stood against many elements before finding its way into Owen?s hands. But more than that was the way those runes seemed to radiate some sort of unseen power. He didn?t need to use his Sight to see the enchantments those runes carried, he could feel the quintessence of something more in the item just by looking at it.

?That?s it?? Cavan asked.

?That?s it,? Owen said belatedly, his eyes fixated on the runes as he read them with lips silently forming the shapes their spoken form would call for.

?Better be worth it.?

?It is.?

?The Circle isn?t going to be happy, Owen.?

?I know, but no one died. No one got hurt. We?ll work our way out of this one. This is definitely worth a little publicity, trust me.?