The Undead Pool

Horns blew as drivers already distracted and nervous slammed on brakes. There was a sickening crunch of plastic, and I didn’t slow down, crossing the street as someone’s radiator began to leak and the accusations flew. I swung my hair aside as Jenks joined me, wings a satisfied hum. “You just ruined someone’s day.”

“I’ll write them a haiku in apology,” he smart-mouthed back. “Mark has cleared the place out but for David and the two guys he’s got pinned. They’re vamps, all right. Both short, both in military anticharm gear. One’s blond, one’s brown haired. Other than that you guys—”

“All look alike to you, I know.” The potency of his dust spilling over me was easing, but that unfamiliar tingle worried me. God, I hoped my aura wasn’t glowing.

But even as I hustled down the sidewalk toward Junior’s, my thoughts were on Trent, not the probable firefight waiting for me. He’d willingly stayed behind, a distraction so I could do what we both wanted to. Why? I knew this was what he wanted to be.

He said it was my job, I thought, meaning it wasn’t his. He was trying to be who everyone had told him he was—and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it a lot.

Deep in thought, I strode down the empty sidewalk, listening to the thunderous booms of antimagic deterrents and mundane tear gas going off at the arena, my mind on Trent’s anger when Bancroft had said his mother was a poser, his disbelief and anguish that it might be true. And then his shock when he heard the echo of the Goddess in my mind when Bancroft’s magic misfired. I was starting to believe all demons could do elven magic but shunned it on the principle of belief. Al was going to be pissed if he ever found out I’d talked to the Goddess.

I jerked, startled when Jenks flew up in my face. His first flash of annoyance turned into suspicion, and he flew backward as I realized we were almost there. Honestly, why did everything seem to happen at Junior’s? It was almost as if it were a crossroads to a time continuum or something.

“You’d better get your lily-white ass in there,” Jenks said as he flew backward before me. “They’re getting itchy.”

My heart gave a quick pound. Adrenaline was a cool stream behind it, spilling through my muscles and clearing my mind. David needed me, and I wanted to talk to some Free Vampires and find out why they were messing with the undead. Not to mention what in hell they thought they were doing imprisoning mystics.

“Thanks, Jenks,” I said as I yanked the door open and the bells jingled against the glass. His dust was an eager silver as the door closed behind us, sealing us in a shop smelling of spicy Were, angry vampire, and really good coffee. Junior, or Mark, rather, was pale as he stood behind the counter in an uninvoked circle he’d had etched in the floor. Trouble followed me like a puppy, and he knew it. But apart from that, the place was empty. Thank you, Mark. I’d impacted his life enough for him to know the drill.

David stood almost in the middle of the store, and I sauntered to him, surprised that he was in a suit, albeit a rumpled one. The Were was the model alpha with his dark wavy hair slicked back into a ponytail and his face holding a bare hint of stubble. The expensive fabric mirrored his pelt as if he had been on four paws instead of in a pair of designer dress shoes, the black-and-silver smoothness a definite contrast to his hard expression.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said, but never looked from the two men he was holding unmoving at a corner table at the wrong end of a sawed-off shotgun. It was his favorite, a vamp killer. He could hit both of them with the barest shift of barrel at this distance, and though Free Vampires promoted a quick second death, I didn’t think any of them were in a hurry for it. Anyone else would look wrong with the ugly thing tucked atop their arm, but not David.

“What took you so long?” David asked, shifting to make room.

Jenks’s blade was catching dust, making a steady stream fall from the tip in threat. “We ran into the press,” the pixy muttered, clearly still peeved about it.

The black-eyed vampires shifted, and David lifted his gun. Slowly they eased back, hands on the table. I couldn’t help my smile. The confidence needed to stand against two living vampires wasn’t small, and feeling the pheromones tingling over my skin like silk, I wasn’t sure even David would’ve been able to best them if he hadn’t had the power of the focus shimmering just behind his eyes. “Press?” David questioned, and I tapped the nearest line, wishing my splat gun wasn’t covered in sleepy-time charms.

“Trent took care of it,” I said, eyeing the tissue-box-size device in the dark-haired vampire’s grip. Mystics? I wondered, deciding it had to be for the strength he held it with. Two vampires, three of us. It wouldn’t be easy, but we could do this.