“Good,” Jacob said, “come with us, quietly, and no one has to get hurt.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“We want you to raise the dead for us.”
“You know you can just make an appointment for that.”
“You’ve already turned the job down,” he said.
That made me look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come outside with us, let us pat you down for weapons, and we’ll take you to our employer. Then it will all be explained.”
“I would do it before your Nimir-Raj comes out from his meetings,” Nicky said. “You want us to call our friend the sniper before he comes outside again.”
I stared at him, did the long blink as if I were having trouble focusing. I guess I was; I felt damn near light-headed. I never fainted, but part of my brain was thinking about it. Crap. I had to do better than this, had to be stronger than this.
I nodded again and got up, but I had to touch the table to steady myself.
“You’re not going to faint, are you?” Nicky said.
“No,” I said. I took in a lot of air, let it out slow, did it a second time. “I don’t faint.” I started walking, and really wished I were in jogging shoes rather than high heels, but you never plan to be kidnapped, so you’re never dressed for it.
I caught my heel on a chair leg, and Nicky grabbed my arm. All touch makes metaphysical powers more. My lioness snarled inside me, her power lashing out, and a slap like claws, saying, Get back!
Nicky staggered a little, but didn’t let go of my arm. He squeezed hard enough for it to hurt, and growled out, “That hurt!”
“It was supposed to,” I said.
“Let her go, Nicky.” Jacob was up with us, using his taller body to try to block the view.
Nicky growled at him, still holding my arm.
The lioness and I were in agreement, as we lashed out at them both. The visual was of claws slicing at them. They both reacted as if the pretend claws had weight to them. Jacob touched Nicky’s wrist. “Let her go, now, before we cause a scene.”
“She started it.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
Jacob made the other one let me go. They stepped back, gave me some room. But both their beasts were watching me. It was that feeling that you might get on the grasslands surrounded by all that gold, wavy grass, and you stop because you feel something watching you. I knew I had not just the men’s attention, but also that part of them that turned furry once a month was staring holes in me.
I heard, felt, smelled my lion’s thought. Make them fight among themselves, save the cubs. It wasn’t words, but it was emotion that translated into words, because I was human and I needed them. But the idea was good; we had enough power to make them fight among themselves-maybe that could save Micah, and Jason, and Nathaniel? But not yet; I wanted them to call off the first sniper from Micah. I needed to cooperate long enough for them to do that. I told my lioness, Patience, and she hunkered down in the long grass and began to wait. She was a stealth predator; they understand patience.
I was out the doors, slipping my sunglasses on against the bright summer sun. I stopped at the top of the steps.
“Keep going,” Nicky said.
“Shouldn’t one of you lead, since I don’t know which car is yours?”
They exchanged a glance, as if they hadn’t thought of it. I had shaken them, or the lioness had. I hoped that would help us. Nicky led the way and Jacob dropped beside me. I’d honestly expected it to be the other way around, but it didn’t matter to me.
“I’m cooperating; how about calling your sniper now?”
“When we’ve searched you for weapons, and we’re in the car.”
I let out a breath, nodded, and kept walking. I wanted to scream at them to call off their sniper, but they were recovering from the metaphysical surprise my lion had thrown them. They were gathering their plan around them again, sinking into it. I debated on whether I wanted them back in control. For now, I gained nothing by poking at them, so I followed skater boy to a big SUV. They had parked at the edge of the lot, so that thick trees and bushes were against the far side, so when they took me around to the passenger side, no one could see them frisk me.
“Lean on the truck,” Jacob said.
I put my hands on the side of the very clean SUV. There was a rental sticker in the window. I was thinking again, noticing things again. I could do this. We’d all get out alive, and that thought, that hope, was what they were counting on. Hope is a wonderful thing, but it can be used by very bad people to get you to cooperate until it’s too late. You think you’ll find a way out until it’s too late to save yourself, too late to save others, too late for anything that matters. Serial killers do that a lot, put a weapon on you in a public area, and then make you get into their car, promising not to hurt you. They lie. The general rule is that if someone puts a weapon on you in a busy area where you can yell for help, yell. Because once they get you alone, what they plan to do to you is a lot worse than getting shot, or stabbed, or a quick death. You never let the bad guys run the show, ever. I knew that. I really knew that, but I leaned against the truck and prepared to let them take my weapons. I knew I’d do what they wanted until they made that first call to the sniper on Micah. I had no other options-yet. And that bastard hope made me think I’d have another chance later to do more, even while the other part of me snickered cynically in my brain. I was acting like a civilian, and though I’d never worn a uniform of any kind, civilian was not what I was.
Jacob started patting me down, starting at my wrists under the suit jacket. He paused. “I can rip the jacket, or you can put your arms back and I can slip it off; your choice.”
I put my arms back, and he slipped the jacket down, surprisingly gently. The jacket revealed the knife sheaths on both forearms with their slender silver-coated daggers. It also showed the shoulder holster against the rich blue of the tank top, and the Smith and Wesson at the small of my back.
“This is what you wear for every day?” Jacob asked.
“Not usually, but I’m expecting a call about a vampire execution out of state.”
“When and from whom?” he asked.
Whom? What kind of bad guy uses whom? But I didn’t say it out loud; I wanted this to go fast so he’d make that phone call. “I don’t know for sure, and the marshal in charge of the case.”
“That’s a custom shoulder rig,” Nicky said.
“My shoulders are narrow enough I have to have custom to fit anyway, so I put on some extras.”
“They aren’t narrow; you’re just small,” he said.
“Fine, take the weapons, and make the damn call.”
“Some girls just can’t take a compliment,” Nicky said, leaning in close enough to put his face against my hair, as his hands found the gun at the small of my back, and pulled it from its holster. He rubbed his cheek against my hair like he was scent-marking me. I think he meant it to be irritating, or maybe even threatening; some women would have taken it that way, but the moment enough of his body touched mine with no cloth, no gloves in between, the power flared between us like a hot wind.
I expected him to pull back, but he didn’t, he sort of collapsed around me, hugging me to him with my own gun in his hand. Everywhere we touched the power grew, as if we’d burn if we touched too long. But fire wasn’t the right analogy, because it didn’t hurt. It felt good.
“Stop it,” I said, and made sure there was anger in the words.
He rubbed his face against mine harder, his lips pressing along my cheek. “It feels good; I can smell that you think so, too.”