Page 65 of The Thief

Tone it down. You sound like your mother. What did Calvin say about inhibitions?

“If y’all could hand that over.” I smiled politely and reached for the bottle.

The guy in the jean jacket twisted out of reach and gulped down several swallows. His buddies looked hammered. I’d never seen these men in here before, but I’d sure seen that bottle of green liquid. One of them must have swiped it when Calvin left the bar unattended.

“Wait a second!” I fell across the table and reached for the bottle. “You stole this. Nobody steals from Calvin—” I looked over my shoulder. “Calvin! What’s your last name?”

“Lachance!” he hollered back.

I steered my attention back to the men. “Calvin Lachance. Nobody steals from Calvin Lachance.”

He passed the bottle to his scruffy-looking friend across the table, who turned away from me and drank his share.

When the guy in the baseball hat slapped my ass and made a crude remark, I picked up a pen and stabbed him in the shoulder. Instead of screaming, he pushed the button on the tip of the pen, and I heard a click.

They were all stoned on sensory magic, and it looked like they’d consumed way more than a shot.

I stood straight up, light glinting off the glasses like diamonds.

Get it together. Focus.

The man with the pen in his shoulder unfolded himself out of the booth and wandered off.

Mr. Jean Jacket slid over, seized my hand, and laced his fingers between mine. When heat penetrated my palm, his eyes lit up from tasting my energy.

“Nobody juices from me!” I shrieked.

I grabbed a beer bottle and knocked it over the Mage’s head. Instead of breaking, it thumped off his skull. “You let me go!” When he didn’t, I wrested my arm from his hold.

The scruffy man took the bottle of Wild Rabbit and climbed onto the table. After another generous swig, he shifted into a black bear. His friend in the orange T-shirt bolted.

The jean-jacket Mage knocked me onto the ground and continued pulling energy from my hand. Blue light threaded between our palms like a swirling aurora borealis. My body weakened, as if I hadn’t slept in days.

Then Bear appeared, menace blazing in his eyes. He ripped the Mage off me and flung him like a sack of flour onto a pool table.

With lightning reflexes, Bear took my hand, yanked me up, then shielded me from the large animal. Somewhere in the back, Calvin shouted profanities.

An idea flashed in my head, and I sprinted across the bar and out the front door. Bear still had rope in the back of his vehicle! After retrieving it, I stumbled across the gravel parking lot, floating on a dream.

Headlights flashed in my eyes, temporarily blinding me. A motorcycle rolled by, the rider’s long hair blowing behind him. After passing me, he reversed his bike, and that’s when I recognized Krys.

He shut off the engine and dismounted. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would you ask that?”

He was over six feet tall but still bent down to look me in the eye. “Because you’re holding rope in one hand and a tire in the other.”

A tire?

After a few blinks, I realized I was sitting on the ground, hugging a truck tire.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“Help me up. I have to save them.”

Lifting me to my feet, he asked, “Save who?”

“A Mage juiced me. They got into the Wild Rabbit. There’s a bear. Not Bear but a real bear.”

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