Page 20 of The Devil in the Details

“On the ground.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Amiron said, not grasping the fact that he was not in a position to negotiate.

“On the ground!” Another shot, this one not a warning. More screams.

Amiron dropped to the floor, clutching his leg. “You shot me!”

The gunman ignored Amiron’s cries of pain. “Anyone else think they deserve special treatment?”

As all this happened, another gunman pointed a rifle at Walker. “You. Grab the painting over the mantle.”

Walker didn’t protest, hopping over to the fireplace.

A silence had fallen over the room. Amid whimpers and soft sobbing, no one spoke. No sirens. No security system alarm, presumably having been disabled. Nothing disturbed the quiet, not even wind as the haze barrier kept the dusty Martian atmosphere out.

“Emergency services are unable to reach your location,” a flat, computerized voice informed Zelda. She slapped her hand over the bracelet to muffle the sound.

The nearest gunman turned his rifle toward her. Malgraxon growled. Actually growled. “Do not,” Mal warned.

“You called the cops?” the gunman asked, ignoring Mal.

“No. I didn’t,” she said, frantically trying to put the device on silent. “That’s my virtual assistant. I need to take my meds.”

Amiron rolled over to look at Malgraxon. “You have to do something,” he pleaded in a quiet voice.

“Do I?” Mal asked, not taking his eyes off the man pointing a rifle at Zelda.

Another robber kept his gun pointed at the crowd while another two smashed glass cases and removed the treasures within. It was oddly leisurely. The fifth person had a pistol on Walker as he removed the poppy painting. No one bothered with the glass blob near Zelda.

“You can have anything you want. Just make this stop,” Amiron whispered.

Walker clutched the painting, a pistol pressed against the back of his head. They moved through the room, toward the smashed window and waiting vehicle.

“You will owe me a favor to be collected at my discretion,” Mal said, his voice taking on the resonant tone.

The robbers rushed to the vehicle, still threatening the crowd with their weapons. They’d be gone in mere seconds, and the emergency responders were nowhere to be found.

“Yes, yes. Anything,” Amiron said.

Mal gave a weary sigh and snapped his fingers.

Walker tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. The painting hit the ground, the frame giving an alarming creak of splintering wood.

How?Was Mal telekinetic, not telepathic?

“It’s a simple gravity distortion field, and I’m observant,” Malgraxon said, anticipating her thoughts. He chuckled, cradling the side of her face with an indulgent expression. “It’s all over your face, my sweet comet. No telepathy required. Do not touch that one,” he snarled, turning his attention back to Walker.

A robber grabbed the painting and jumped through the window, into the vehicle. As quick as they came, they were gone.

The crowd remained still.

“You were supposed to stop them,” Amiron said, pointing an accusing finger at Mal. His shout echoed in the room. Red spread on his white trousers.

“You demanded that I make it stop. It is over.”

“They took my painting. Do you know how much money it took to get it to Mars?”

Zelda grabbed a towel from a discarded tray and pressed it to the wound on Amiron’s leg. “Someone call emergency services,” she ordered.

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