Unfortunately, beggars couldn’t be choosers. If Ghastek was calling, it was because he wanted a favor, which would mean he’d owe me. Having the best Master of the Dead in the city in my debt would come in handy in my line of work. “What can I do for you?”

“A loose vampire is heading your way.”

Bloody hell. Without a navigator, an insatiable hunger drove the bloodsuckers to slaughter. A loose vampire would massacre anything it came across. It could kill a dozen people in half a minute.

“What do you need?”

“I’m less than twelve miles behind her. I need you to delay her, until I come into range.”

“From which direction?”

“Northwest. And Kate, try not to damage her. She’s expensive . . .”

I dropped the phone and dashed outside, bursting into almost painfully cold air. People filled the street—laborers, shoppers, random passersby hurrying home. Food to be slaughtered. I sucked in a lungful of cold and screamed, “Vampire! Loose vampire! Run!”

For a fraction of a second nothing happened, and then people scattered like fish before a shark. In a breath I was alone.

The parking lot chain I’d unlocked this morning lay coiled next to the building, the padlock hanging open. Perfect.

Two seconds to the parking lot.

A second to yank the padlock off the ground.

Three more seconds to drag the chain to an old tree.

Too slow. I looped the chain around the trunk and worked the other end into a slipknot with the padlock.

I needed blood to bait the vamp. Lots and lots of blood.

A team of oxen turned the corner. I ran at them, drawing a throwing knife. The driver, an older Latino man, stared at me. His hand reached for a rifle lying on the seat next to him.

“Get off! Loose vampire!”

He scrambled out of the cart. I sliced a long shallow gash down the ox’s shoulder and ran my hands along the cut. Hot crimson drenched my fingers.