window with his knuckles. This close, he looked more like a bodyguard than a government official. Eyeing him nervously, I turned off the radio, but didn’t roll down the window.
“Ms. Waynest? Shiarra Waynest?”
His voice was muffled by the glass, but I heard him well enough. “Yes?” I gestured at the car in front of me, blocking my path. Other cars were forced to maneuver around and people were honking irritably at the hold up. “Do you mind?”
“Don’t worry about that. Could you step out of the car? We have a few questions.”
Something wasn’t right about this. If they were official and it was that much of an emergency, they would’ve met me at my house or had my cop escorts pull me over. As they showed up right after my cops left me to chase a highly unusual distraction, their appearance was extremely suspicious.
“Let’s see some ID first.”
The two men shared a look. As I suspected, no ID was forthcoming, so I stayed put. They stepped away from the car and spoke to each other for a moment, too quietly for me to make out. After a short debate, the other man came forward. He was short, skinny, and didn’t fill out the suit very well. His eyes kept darting around, not focusing on anything in particular. Despite his slight frame, something about him scared me more than the other guy. He radiated wrongness on some fundamental level, in a far more subtle way than his failure to fill out his suit properly. Whatever it was about him, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
He was smiling absently at nothing, and I watched nervously as he placed his hand against my door, fingers splayed directly above the handle. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, though I pressed against the glass to try to see. His lips moved, and there was a brief flash of bluish light from his palm that left me blinking spots out of my eyes.
Right after the flash, my car died. What the hell?
Another flash of light and the doors unlocked of their own accord. Oh crap. A mage!
The bigger guy stepped in, reaching out to open the door. Cursing under my breath, I slapped at the lock to keep the crazies out. At the same time, I reached for my purse on the passenger seat, scrambling for mace or my cell or something I could use against them.
Too late. I missed the lock on the first try, my fingers scraping the handle as he yanked the door open. Instead of Mr. Muscles reaching for me, it was the creepy guy pressing clammy fingers to the side of my face. “Sorry, lady. You should’ve come quietly.”
In response, I kicked at him, satisfied with his wheezed “oof” as he was driven back. It wasn’t a hard blow. The angle was awkward since I was still in the seat, but he was surprised and in enough pain that he staggered back a step. I had just enough time to grab my purse and undo the seat belt before the buff guy reached for me.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car. As my feet hit the ground, I steadied myself and used all the momentum I could muster to swing my purse up and around to whack the side of his head. He cried out and staggered to the side, letting me go so he could clutch at his bleeding cheek. The cute little buckle on my bag must have caught his skin. Poor baby.
I whipped around, shocked, as a gunshot went off and pedestrians screamed and scattered. Another crazy guy had stepped out of the other car and shot a round into the air from what appeared to be a Desert Eagle. Color me impressed–and scared shitless. Guns meant that Very Bad Things were bound to happen.
The small, creepy guy took advantage of my surprise to make a grab at me.
Without much thought, I drove my elbow back into his sternum, once again knocking him away from me. Gasping like a landed fish, he staggered toward the black car in front of mine while I was still trying to figure out what was going on and what the hell to do about it.
One of the benefits of having used the hunter’s belt given to me by The Circle was that the fighting
“Ms. Waynest? Shiarra Waynest?”
His voice was muffled by the glass, but I heard him well enough. “Yes?” I gestured at the car in front of me, blocking my path. Other cars were forced to maneuver around and people were honking irritably at the hold up. “Do you mind?”
“Don’t worry about that. Could you step out of the car? We have a few questions.”
Something wasn’t right about this. If they were official and it was that much of an emergency, they would’ve met me at my house or had my cop escorts pull me over. As they showed up right after my cops left me to chase a highly unusual distraction, their appearance was extremely suspicious.
“Let’s see some ID first.”
The two men shared a look. As I suspected, no ID was forthcoming, so I stayed put. They stepped away from the car and spoke to each other for a moment, too quietly for me to make out. After a short debate, the other man came forward. He was short, skinny, and didn’t fill out the suit very well. His eyes kept darting around, not focusing on anything in particular. Despite his slight frame, something about him scared me more than the other guy. He radiated wrongness on some fundamental level, in a far more subtle way than his failure to fill out his suit properly. Whatever it was about him, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
He was smiling absently at nothing, and I watched nervously as he placed his hand against my door, fingers splayed directly above the handle. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, though I pressed against the glass to try to see. His lips moved, and there was a brief flash of bluish light from his palm that left me blinking spots out of my eyes.
Right after the flash, my car died. What the hell?
Another flash of light and the doors unlocked of their own accord. Oh crap. A mage!
The bigger guy stepped in, reaching out to open the door. Cursing under my breath, I slapped at the lock to keep the crazies out. At the same time, I reached for my purse on the passenger seat, scrambling for mace or my cell or something I could use against them.
Too late. I missed the lock on the first try, my fingers scraping the handle as he yanked the door open. Instead of Mr. Muscles reaching for me, it was the creepy guy pressing clammy fingers to the side of my face. “Sorry, lady. You should’ve come quietly.”
In response, I kicked at him, satisfied with his wheezed “oof” as he was driven back. It wasn’t a hard blow. The angle was awkward since I was still in the seat, but he was surprised and in enough pain that he staggered back a step. I had just enough time to grab my purse and undo the seat belt before the buff guy reached for me.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car. As my feet hit the ground, I steadied myself and used all the momentum I could muster to swing my purse up and around to whack the side of his head. He cried out and staggered to the side, letting me go so he could clutch at his bleeding cheek. The cute little buckle on my bag must have caught his skin. Poor baby.
I whipped around, shocked, as a gunshot went off and pedestrians screamed and scattered. Another crazy guy had stepped out of the other car and shot a round into the air from what appeared to be a Desert Eagle. Color me impressed–and scared shitless. Guns meant that Very Bad Things were bound to happen.
The small, creepy guy took advantage of my surprise to make a grab at me.
Without much thought, I drove my elbow back into his sternum, once again knocking him away from me. Gasping like a landed fish, he staggered toward the black car in front of mine while I was still trying to figure out what was going on and what the hell to do about it.
One of the benefits of having used the hunter’s belt given to me by The Circle was that the fighting
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