His wide eyes took in my fangs and probably now red eyes before coming to rest on the .45 Colt nestled under my arm, revealed when my jacket swung open as I reached for him. Oh, and let’s not forget the long line of drool dripping onto the plush carpeting. Mustn’t forget the drool.
He struggled to pull away, but there’s really no way to break a supernatural grip unless you also have superstrength. My voice became a hiss normally reserved for bad things in dark alleys: “I know what you’re planning, and I’m sick and damned tired of guys like you making my clothes cost more so the store can recoup the losses from theft. You are going to get your lazy ass out of this mall right this second and find a legal way to make a living, or I swear on everything holy that I’ll find you some cold, lonely night and make you regret it.” I parted my lips so he could get a good look at what would be chasing him. No, I wouldn’t really eat him or drain his blood. I don’t plan to ever try human blood. It could be that one straw that breaks me. But I could scare him really well.
In fact, I already had. His blood had retreated so far from his face that he didn’t even smell good anymore. His white lips opened, but only a squeak came out.
I raised my brows and leaned close enough to smell the scent of liquid courage on his breath. “Got it?”
He nodded, slowly at first and then in a rush of movement that gave him the appearance of a bobblehead doll. “Yeah. Got it.”
Leaning back, I pulled him to his feet as I stood. “Good.”
He didn’t so much run out of the store as scrabble, using both hands and feet. The guard who had finally come to investigate the commotion noted the boy’s guilty exit and raised a walkie-talkie to his lips. Whatever he said caused the security cameras to spin in the boy’s direction and follow him out of the store.
I was so busy watching all this that I didn’t notice the father of the tweenage girl shooting holy water at me until the stream hit me in the face. Sadly, I’ve come to expect being doused in holy water and having crosses shoved against my chest in the past few weeks. The fangs sort of give the impression I’m the threat, rather than the punk I’d just stopped. Fancy that.
“Hello! How rude was that?” Dawna had arrived and was at her touchy best. She tends to translate adrenaline into confrontation once she forces her way past her fear. She simultaneously pushed away the man’s water gun and handed me a stack of tissues from her purse. “Do you see anyone on fire here? She just stopped a robbery. A little gratitude would be nice.”
“A robbery? What robbery?” The man’s eyes went wide, moving from the doorway where the kid in the hoodie was having his hands cuffed by the boys in blue to the guard using a hankie to pluck a semiauto pistol from among the boxes of boots. Finally, his gaze landed on me, the pale lady with red eyes and fangs—the good guy who was patting her face carefully to avoid smearing her makeup.
“Jeez, Dad.” The girl at his side rolled her eyes and crossed slim arms over her chest. “It’s broad daylight. How could she be a bat? And don’t you watch the news or anything?” She turned to me. “You’re Celia Graves, aren’t you?”
Her father lowered his eyes to the floor and grabbed her elbow, guiding her away from me with a reddened face. At least he had the dignity to mutter a soft, “Thanks, sorry,” as he walked past.
“Please don’t leave the store, sir,” the guard called after him. “We might need to talk to you later.”
I was already pulling my wallet out of my purse. Before the guard even asked for it, I’d handed over my bodyguard license and carry permit. He raised brows a little at that and only then noticed the slight bulge under my arm. I obliged by discreetly opening my jacket. He wrote down my information on a pad before handing back the two documents and then dipped his head toward my arm. “Nice tailoring … and I appreciate the discretion. We’ll call if we need a statement. Thanks for your help.”
The shrug was automatic as I tucked my wallet back into the messy depths of butter-soft leather. “Discretion keeps people like you handing back the permits.” It’s why I pay big bucks for custom blazers. Nobody’s supposed to notice the gun, and I keep it holstered until needed. It wasn’t needed today. “Oh, and you might consider junking up the aisle next to jewelry. It’s a pretty attractive target.”
He nodded and started to walk at a brisk pace toward the exit, probably to turn over the gun to the cops.
I turned to where Emma was swearing under her breath, apparently realizing that she hadn’t predicted the robbery attempt—a hard thing for a clairvoyant. But hey, not every event is worth a vision. I don’t know why she stresses over it. “I’m going to need something to eat … and soon. I got a little twitchy just now. Let’s hit the juice bar when we’re done here.”
The three of us have started using “twitchy” to signify that I wanted to chomp on someone’s neck. It sounds a little less threatening to people on the street. “Here you go.” Dawna, bless her heart, pulled a bottle of a meal replacement shake from inside her tiny purse, where it should never have been able to fit. But she always manages to find handbags that resemble TARDISes in their ability to hold more things than they should. Sadly, the drink was banana flavored. I loathe bananas.
“Thanks, but I’d rather wait for something not so…”
“Eww, banana. How can you stand those things?” Emma and I shared more than a few tastes, which I was discovering now that I was getting to know her better. We’d been friendly acquaintances for a while, but it wasn’t until our shared friend Vicki Cooper was murdered recently that we’d gotten close.
“Maybe you’d prefer chocolate.” The voice behind me froze me in my tracks and the appearance of a bottle of chocolate Ensure over my shoulder made me shudder. The man who owned the bland, helpful voice was neither bland nor helpful. People disappeared when he was around. Unfortunately, I owed him for saving my life. He managed to make sure I wasn’t staked and beheaded after the bat attack and covered my butt later when I needed it.
I still didn’t know why.
“Thanks, Jones.” I kept my voice blandly pleasant. I didn’t trust the man as far as I could throw him and had no plans to ingest anything that had ever been in his possession. But I took the bottle, over the wide-eyed objections of my friends, who were vigorously shaking their heads and mouthing the word “no” at me.
I wanted to prove a point. Smiling, I gave the bottle a little squeeze, just a little gentle pressure. Just as I expected, one side sprang a leak. What a shock. I turned to see Jones smiling at me. He’s not much to look at—not handsome or ugly, neither tall nor short, he moves with easy grace that’s not threatening. He’s the kind of man who would easily disappear in a crowd. Literally. Not only did he have mind magic, but I’d actually seen him disappear—a trick only the strongest mages seem to be able to manage. I returned his smile and handed back the soggy bottle. “So, what’d you inject into in it, Jones? Would I keel over dead in a few minutes or just pass out in traffic and roll the car?”
Emma was glaring at him now. She didn’t like him, even if her brother Kevin worked with him.
He put a hand over his heart and offered a hurt-puppy face. “You wound me, Graves. Can’t you believe it’s just a defective bottle?”
I let out a small chuckle. “That depends. If I pour it on a potted plant, will it sizzle like stir-fry?”
“Ooh,” he said appreciatively. “No, but that’s an interesting image. All this would do would make the plant damp.” At my raised brows he added, “Well, honestly, plants don’t really sleep, do they?”