up in the air. 'I'm an untrained demon hunter with only crap half-powers, suddenly expected to go all Buffy and save the world.'
She could see him biting the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing at her and it made her stomach muscles clench.
'Evie,' he said quietly, his voice a shush in itself, 'relax. It's not as terrifying as it seems.'
Was he joking? Had he forgotten that she'd been there last night? That she'd come face to face with terrifying and his best friend horrifyingly deadly?
'You get help,' Victor reassured. 'There are quite a few of us. There are three Hunters patrolling the borders of the town as we speak. You'll meet them soon enough. You're well protected and you will continue to be until you're trained.'
Something pulled in her, a certainty, a thrill even, when he said the word trained. She frowned at herself. She wasn't even sure she wanted to train. She wasn't about to get excited about a career path that could lead her to an early grave. Yet, there was a yet. Something was pulling her towards that path - something undeniable. She had a feeling in her gut that she couldn't ignore, even though her head was still trying to find excuses.
'If there are so many of you, then why do you need me?' she asked, feeling the lift of her chin as she said it, knowing at the same time that it was futile. There was no going back from this. There was no choice. The memory of her parents' faces leapt into her mind.
Victor put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll tell you all you need to know but first things first.' He swivelled her easily towards the empty railings. 'Start unpacking that box over there.'
Evie glanced at him then back at the six or seven sealed boxes in front of her. On the side of one Marc Jacobs was stamped. Her eyes flew to the others. Stella McCartney, Alexander McQueen, Valentino, Chanel, Philip Lim. She stared at Victor. 'We're actually opening a store?'
Victor looked at her in bemusement. 'Yes, what did you think we were doing?'
'Er, I thought you were here to maybe teach me how to kick some demon butt or something. Because forgive me if I got this wrong but I don't think Chanel garments are going to do it - unless I'm missing something. Are demons allergic to fashion? Am I supposed to blind them with sequins? Give them a cardiac arrest by showing them the price tags?'
'Unhumans, Evie, not demons. We're not living in Biblical times, let's update our language please.'
She shook her head. 'Well, whatever, do you want me to unpack dresses or do you want me to be a Hunter - because a second ago you were all about the Hunter and now you're all about the fashion, so please choose. And, by the way - you are still paying me, right?'
'Yes. Thirty-five an hour. And right now I want you to unpack those boxes over there and start filling these rails with New York's finest designer offerings.'
Evie took a step forward and dropped to her knees in front of the first box. 'Is this like Karate Kid where I learn how to do martial arts moves by hanging clothes up?'
She heard Victor sigh. 'No. This is our cover , Evie,' he said. 'You don't think people would start asking questions if you started hanging out with the only black man in town?'
'Hey,' she replied indignantly, 'I know it's Smallville but we're not racist.'
He looked at her with heavy lids. 'I'm also twenty years older than you and I know how people can talk.'
She shut her mouth. He was right about that much, especially in this town.
'Besides, I don't want my reputation destroyed,' he added.
'Your reputation?' she blurted.
He winked at her and she pulled a face at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a silver glint, something dancing through the air, and instinctively threw up her hand to catch it.
'Ow,' she said, as the scissors caught her palm. 'Did nobody ever teach you not to throw scissors? You could have blinded me. I could have lost a finger. Does this job have benefits?' she asked as an afterthought, rubbing the palm of her
She could see him biting the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing at her and it made her stomach muscles clench.
'Evie,' he said quietly, his voice a shush in itself, 'relax. It's not as terrifying as it seems.'
Was he joking? Had he forgotten that she'd been there last night? That she'd come face to face with terrifying and his best friend horrifyingly deadly?
'You get help,' Victor reassured. 'There are quite a few of us. There are three Hunters patrolling the borders of the town as we speak. You'll meet them soon enough. You're well protected and you will continue to be until you're trained.'
Something pulled in her, a certainty, a thrill even, when he said the word trained. She frowned at herself. She wasn't even sure she wanted to train. She wasn't about to get excited about a career path that could lead her to an early grave. Yet, there was a yet. Something was pulling her towards that path - something undeniable. She had a feeling in her gut that she couldn't ignore, even though her head was still trying to find excuses.
'If there are so many of you, then why do you need me?' she asked, feeling the lift of her chin as she said it, knowing at the same time that it was futile. There was no going back from this. There was no choice. The memory of her parents' faces leapt into her mind.
Victor put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll tell you all you need to know but first things first.' He swivelled her easily towards the empty railings. 'Start unpacking that box over there.'
Evie glanced at him then back at the six or seven sealed boxes in front of her. On the side of one Marc Jacobs was stamped. Her eyes flew to the others. Stella McCartney, Alexander McQueen, Valentino, Chanel, Philip Lim. She stared at Victor. 'We're actually opening a store?'
Victor looked at her in bemusement. 'Yes, what did you think we were doing?'
'Er, I thought you were here to maybe teach me how to kick some demon butt or something. Because forgive me if I got this wrong but I don't think Chanel garments are going to do it - unless I'm missing something. Are demons allergic to fashion? Am I supposed to blind them with sequins? Give them a cardiac arrest by showing them the price tags?'
'Unhumans, Evie, not demons. We're not living in Biblical times, let's update our language please.'
She shook her head. 'Well, whatever, do you want me to unpack dresses or do you want me to be a Hunter - because a second ago you were all about the Hunter and now you're all about the fashion, so please choose. And, by the way - you are still paying me, right?'
'Yes. Thirty-five an hour. And right now I want you to unpack those boxes over there and start filling these rails with New York's finest designer offerings.'
Evie took a step forward and dropped to her knees in front of the first box. 'Is this like Karate Kid where I learn how to do martial arts moves by hanging clothes up?'
She heard Victor sigh. 'No. This is our cover , Evie,' he said. 'You don't think people would start asking questions if you started hanging out with the only black man in town?'
'Hey,' she replied indignantly, 'I know it's Smallville but we're not racist.'
He looked at her with heavy lids. 'I'm also twenty years older than you and I know how people can talk.'
She shut her mouth. He was right about that much, especially in this town.
'Besides, I don't want my reputation destroyed,' he added.
'Your reputation?' she blurted.
He winked at her and she pulled a face at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a silver glint, something dancing through the air, and instinctively threw up her hand to catch it.
'Ow,' she said, as the scissors caught her palm. 'Did nobody ever teach you not to throw scissors? You could have blinded me. I could have lost a finger. Does this job have benefits?' she asked as an afterthought, rubbing the palm of her
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