Page 127 of Junk Magic

But I’d changed a bit since then, and while I didn’t have my magic, or even the stored variety I usually never went without—potion bombs, magical snares and lariats, and spelled guns, knives and hand grenades, a war mage’s typical arsenal—I did have something else.

Which was why I let them get almost on top of me, and then jumped up and over, somersaulting backwards above their heads. And landing, not behind them, but on top of them, hitting down on the broad, hairy backs, which had been shoved together by the confines of the hallway. And before they could react, while they were still turning in surprise, I grabbed the massive heads and slammed them together with every ounce of strength I had.

And right then, I had a lot.

They went out like sleeping babes and I jumped down onto the crazy carpeting behind them, slightly dazed but mostly all right. I hadn’t even managed to tear my dress. But I had been distracted for half a second, and that was all it took.

Someone grabbed me my shoulder with a grip like steel, and I swiftly found myself slammed into a wall.

Chapter Thirty-Six

It’s not a great idea to jump a war mage, especially one as keyed up as I was. Which was why I had a fist halfway to a face before I stopped and stared. And then did some slamming of my own, after dragging my captive over the fur mountains and around a corner.

“What the hell?” I asked Sophie, whose only reply was a snarl worthy of a wolf. But it sounded more like a giant cat, and looked it, too, when I focused on the shadow behind her.

“My offensive form,” she told me, while Jen peered back into the other hall, I guess to see if we’d been spotted. And why we hadn’t been was beyond me, but not because of my wanted-in-seven-states ass. But because—

“What the fuck is that?” I shrieked, staring at Jen, before Sophie clasped a hand over my mouth.

Jen turned toward us, relief on her face. “I don’t think anyone saw.”

“Don’t think. Know,” Sophie snapped, and Jen dutifully let loose one of the three creatures she was holding onto by black, smoking tethers.

The hideous thing took off like a shadow itself, albeit one with hideously elongated arms and a face that looked like the guy in The Scream painting, only worse. But it blended into the horrible wallpaper that was plastered onto everything around here until you got past the public areas. I watched it go, then switched my attention to the two snarling and snapping creatures that she still held by their smokey ropes, like maddened dogs.

Only they weren’t dogs.

Jen tightened her fist and jerked them back slightly, bringing them to the hem of her purple mini dress. “Stop it,” she said, and they settled down.

I looked at her. “What the hell?”

But I guess my expression was more gob-smacked than accusatory, because she beamed and swirled her hem at me, making the purple and silver beads draped on strings all over the scrap of satin shimmy and dance.

“It’s Versace,” she told me proudly. “Sebastian said we had to fit in, so he gave us his credit card and told us to get whatever we wanted—”

“Jen—”

“Whatever,” she repeated, sounding a little awed. “And Ulmer said to go high end, because Arnou’s rep was on the line, so—”

“Not the dress,” I said, sounding strangled. “Them.”

“What?”

“Them! Those things!” I pointed.

She looked down. “My shoes?”

She twisted her legs so that I could see that the soles on her four-inch stilettos were a bright these-cost-the-earth-and-then-some red.

“She means your pets,” Sophie said, crossing her arms.

“Oh,” Jen said, combing blond hair out of her eyes with her fingers. “They’re the necros from last night. I found them after everything.”

“But what are they doing here?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Seemed a shame to waste them.”

“What are you doing here?” Sophie said, before I could figure out a reply to that. “And what the hell was that out there?”

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