Page 25 of Junk Magic

He gave me a look I didn’t like. “Think of it as a boarding school—”

“Caleb!”

“We’re out of room, Lia. The Corps is bursting at the seams—”

“Hargroves said there was a special facility—”

“Yeah, it’s under construction—”

“He didn’t mention that!”

“Probably slipped his mind.” We exchanged looks. Nothing slipped the old man’s mind. The bastard.

“Then another room at HQ,” I said desperately.

“Take it up with him—”

“Yeah, like getting on his calendar isn’t a three-week ordeal!”

“You seem to manage okay. Weren’t you cozied up in his office just yesterday?”

“To get chewed out!”

Caleb shrugged. “Maybe screw something else up?”

I glared. “I thought they were prioritizing the dangerous criminals for cells and letting the rest go with fines—”

“They are. We’re still overrun.” He put on his serious face. “You know the deal. The war has become a free for all for every lowlife from here to the border—and beyond. We need every bed—”

“So do I! I can’t house six more people. This is a three-bedroom house!”

“Some can sleep in the living room—”

“I have vargulfs in the living room!”

Caleb paused. “Do I want to know why that is?”

“No.” I slammed down my biggest frying pan and dumped half a pound of bacon into it. Then did some mental math and dumped the rest into another one.

“We can bunk up in two rooms,” Sophie said. Her eyes had been shifting back and forth like at a tennis match as me and Caleb argued it out. “Guys in one, girls in another, if you have enough beds.”

“That’s the problem; I don’t. Half the rooms aren’t even furnished.”

“Get us sleeping bags and we’re good on the floor,” Aki said. “Or . . . or just a blanket—”

He looked panicked. In fact, now that I noticed, they were all looking panicked. Including Kimmie, who was backing toward the door to the yard. “I’m not going back there,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Do you understand me? I’m not.”

“None of us are,” Sophie said. “Come on, Kim. Put the knife down.”

Which was about the time I noticed that one of my kitchen knives was missing from the rack.

It was now in her hand, and she was almost to the door. That shouldn’t have been a problem since the only thing beyond my back yard was desert; there were no neighbors to freak out that way. But when she tried the door and it stuck, thanks to a bent hinge from the last disaster, she panicked.

“I won’t be locked up again! I won’t be locked up again!”

Her eyes were wild, and when Chris tried to get the knife back, she slashed at him. It didn’t connect, but that was more because of cat-like reflexes on his part than anything else. Or maybe Were-like was more accurate, although I’d seen Weres who moved slower.

That was fortunate, since I suddenly found out what Kimmie’s talent was. A moment ago, there had been one knife, shining under the kitchen fluorescents. Now there was a solid dozen, glinting in the air in front of her.

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