Page 66 of The Thief

“A Mage juiced you?” Krys took the rope from my hand. “Motherfucker! Someone’s getting their ass beat tonight.”

I gripped the back of his leather jacket to keep me steady as we made our way inside.

Krys led me to a table and sat me down. “Glue your ass to this chair.”

The Mage blasted people in the bar with energy. Some fled, while others watched with amusement. Bear took him on, placing his own life in danger. I spied Calvin disappearing through the swinging doors to the back hall.

Since Bear was handling the Mage, Krys stalked toward the savage animal. “You wanna play, motherfucker? Let’s play.”

The bear launched off the table, but Krys pivoted like a professional fighter. As soon as the animal hit the ground, Krys looped the rope around his neck and jumped on his back like a bull rider.

I searched for the other two men in their party. The guy with the baseball hat was at the bar, guzzling beer straight from the tap. He still had the pen impaled in his shoulder. Orange T-shirt flashed across the room, a crazed look in his eye as he hoisted himself onto the bar. Though his gut was hanging over his belt and his pants were falling down, he thought himself a king with the way he stretched out his arms and presented himself to the room.

“I am a god!” he bellowed. “Bow to your god.”

When a few chuckles sounded in the back, he extended his arms in front of him with his wrists joined. Then he drew back one arm as if he were pulling the string on a bow. Light formed in the shape of an arrow, and it fired at the cackling group of men in the back.

They hit the floor seconds before the energy arrow shattered against the wall and broke into tiny little sparks.

Oh, hell no. Not in my bar.

I scurried to the corner and lifted the wet mop from the bucket. Once behind the bar, I shoved that mop against the Mage’s ass so hard that he lost his balance and fell off the counter like timber. Then I rushed around with the half-empty bucket, doused him with dirty water, and shoved the bucket over his head.

Bear took another energy hit from Mr. Jean Jacket and staggered backward. I raced over with the mop, holding it in front of me like a lance. In a bar fight, shifting was one of the riskiest things you could do. The goal was to defuse the situation, not open a crime scene investigation. That’s why Bear and Krys weren’t shifting.

I charged at the Mage like a soldier in battle. Then I socked him in the face with the wet ends, knocking him onto his back.

Calvin casually strolled in and handed Bear a dagger. Bear dropped to his knees and drove the blade into the Mage’s chest.

“Never put your hands on her again. You got it?” He twisted the blade, but the Mage lay motionless.

My eyes widened. “Is he dead?”

“Stunner,” Calvin replied, another dagger in his grip. Stunners were infused with magic that paralyzed a Mage but didn’t kill them. Then he strode over to Mr. Buckethead by the bar and put one in him.

Bear cupped my neck in his hands and searched my eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

Stroking his soft beard, I chuckled. “You’re the handsomest man alive.”

The jukebox switched to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” and the bar erupted in cheers.

I followed their gaze to Krys, who was riding the crazed bear with a feral look of glee. He had looped the rope inside the bear’s mouth and held on to the slack. The bear propelled through the bar, oblivious to the rider on its back. Its eyes were bloodshot, and saliva dripped from its jowls. Tables flipped over, sending empty bottles and ashtrays to the floor.

The crowd hollered when Krys didn’t fall off. The bear snapped at everyone it passed, weaving chaotically around pool tables. It was stoned and clueless that someone was riding it. Krys smirked when they tore past me again.

Rushing across the room, I collected the bottle of Wild Rabbit before anyone else got ahold of it. On my way back to the bar, I snatched an eight ball off a pool table.

The bear reared up and threw Krys off. Without missing a beat, Krys grabbed the slack on the rope and tied it around the bear’s hind legs so fast that it looked like a cartoon. The bear twisted around and maliciously opened his jaws, roaring at him.

Seconds before he took a bite out of Krys’s face, I pitched that eight ball like a baseball player, and it thumped against a skull.

But whose skull?

Meanwhile, Bear dragged Mr. Jean Jacket through the establishment to the sound of wild applause.

“That was one hell of a fight,” a man exclaimed. “Ho-ly shit. You ever seen a Shifter go after a Mage without shifting? That’s one brave motherfucker.”

“Not me,” another said. “I would have shifted and ripped his throat out.”

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