Ian held his breath. Pure darkness had settled in around them. His heart beat out a wild staccato he felt was loud enough to give him away. Red flares burst to life mutating the darkness into something far worse. The flares crackled and sputtered casting everything in murder red and deep dancing shadows. The perfect playground to let his imagination run wild.

To his left, Ian made out the outline of Vale. She moved to stand at the head of the aisle. He tucked the scroll through his belt, like a sword, drew his gun and took a position beside Vale. He expected at any moment to be set upon by members of the Harlequin Court but no blaring alarm sounded after the flares ignited.

“Let's move,” Ban said in a harsh whisper beside Ian.

They reformed their triangle and made their way down the center aisle. Ban and Vale faced the endless stacks behind while Ian watched the front his gun sweeping back and forth.

A door opened and slammed somewhere within the library. Heavy footfalls picked up where the echoing boom left off. Muffled and distorted by the towers of books and scrolls Ian couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from. But they were coming. There was no denying the echoing footfalls presence or purpose. They were being stalked. Images of hockey masks and knife-gloved hands came to the front of Ian’s mind. There was a menacing rhythm to the steady pacing. It played a tune on a primal instinctual chord telling him that no matter how fast he ran, he would never get away.

By the time they reached the door Ian felt like their stalker was breathing down his neck. His hand shot out to push the door open but before his palm could touch the wood, a calm but commanding voice filled the room.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” A deep resonating baritone called out.

The voice reminded Ian of cartoon villains yet the similarity only made him more uncomfortable. He’d heard that voice before, the first time he’d come to Justiciar Law. Ignoring the warning Ian grasped the doorknob and twisted. Only the doorway didn’t budge and instead, Ian felt a tingle in his fingers. He tried to let go but he couldn’t move his fingers. Then with a flash of white light brighter than any camera Ian was thrown from the door. His body flew backward into the reading area landing in a heap amongst the tables and lecterns.

“Ian!” Vale called out running to his side.

Hammered shit was a popular colloquialism from Ian’s neck of the woods and, as he regained feeling in his body, it took on all new meaning. He sucked in a deep breath when his lungs decided to work again. Vale knelt beside him grasping his hand as his limbs flailed about in the aftermath of the shock.

“How is he?” Ban asked. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the stacks. He could feel the predatory gaze of their hunter on him.

“He, is fine,” Came Ian’s breathless reply as Vale helped him to his feet. And while the tone of Ian’s voice did not instill confidence in the minotaur, Vale’s chorusing response put him more at ease.

“I did caution you,” The disembodied voice said from the stacks, “Those who trifle with the Harlequin Court are punished. To be honest with you, it is my favorite part of the job.”

Ian shifted at the sound of the voice heading right back to the door. Already he was rummaging around in his side pouch looking for the survival card.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here. Cover me while I get the door open,” Ian whispered as quietly as he could.

Vale nodded once in agreement. Already she’d redrawn her bow and nocked an arrow. Ban picked his way backward refusing to take his eyes from the stacks. Ian holstered his gun and retrieved the survival card. Their stalker seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps someone, and Ian didn’t plan on finding out the specifics. The card quickly sliced through the magical seal on the door with a quiet pop. Without hesitation he ripped the door open.

The moment the door’s hinges creaked a figure bolted out from one of the stacks, inhumanly fast.

“Move!” Ban shouted.

Ian and Vale dove through the doorway Ban right behind them. Ian rolled over and kicked the door closed. But not before he caught a glimpse of their hunter. There was no mistaking the imposing figure. The scorched black armor. Dakon DeBarro. The Partner he and Vale had met on their first visit to the law firm in all his terrifying glory. Then the door slammed shut. A flash of purple and the magical lock was back in place. The wall shuddered as Dakon collided with the door.

Ian now understood the roadrunner’s satisfaction. He smiled despite the danger as the mental image ran through his mind of a pancaked Dakon. But another thundering crash followed on the heels of the first and prompted Ian to scramble to his feet. This coyote apparently was not going to let a little thing like a magically sealed door get between him and his roadrunners.

“It is time to leave!” Ian said as he gained his feet. Terror and adrenaline banished the stiff pain in his muscles from the shock he’d gotten moments ago. He’d let Tomorrow-Ian deal with that, if he made it that long. He patted his belt to make sure that the scroll was secure and slipped his survival card back into his belt pouch in the same motion. He could not afford to lose either.

They ran through the Gallery of Opulence the sounds of Dakon smashing against the wall motivating their hasty retreat. As they headed for the door that would take them back to the entrance, a resounding crash rang out. Overhead man-sized shards diamonds rained down from the chandelier impaling and cracking the floor. Ian almost tripped over a gem the size of a baseball bat as it slid across the floor.

Dakon stepped through the freshly minted hole as Ian made the mistake of looking back. Dakon smirked, or at least Ian imagined his shrouded face was doing so as he brushed off some of the dust that had settled on his blackened armor’s shoulder. Ian drew his gun and fired, hoping to get lucky. It would be worth the cost of the bullet if it slowed down their pursuer and even more so if it felled him. After all, the man had circumvented a magically locked door by bringing down a wall.

Dakon didn’t even flinch as the bullet whizzed by, the shot going wide. He began his slow stalk again making it evident he was in no hurry. He knew there were no more locks between himself and his prey.

“Go, now! I’ll hold him,” Ian said while pulling the scroll from his belt and slipping it into Vale’s quiver. He offered Vale an apologetic smile and a gentle shove of her shoulder. But for all his heroics Ian had overlooked one critical fact.

“They want you, you imbecile!” Ban said with an irritated snort, as he pulled Ian behind him. “Get out of here. Go home, Ian. That is the greatest thing you can do,” he narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders facing Dakon, “I will hold him.”

Vale gave Ban a sad smile and seized Ian’s wrist tugging it insistently. “We must go, Ian. Peace Ban’Koliath. May you never walk in shadows,” Her tone already mournful as she gave Ian’s arm a harder tug.

“No, he’ll kill you!” Ian shouted.

“Peace Ian, I am proud to know you. Valethalassa, get him home safe,” Ban said as Dakon continued to close the distance between them. The man-mountain was moving at a mockingly slow pace. “Now, run!” Ban let out a bellowing cry and charged their relentless adversary.

Ian and Vale fled.