Page 7 of Defying the Relic Hunter

“Ethan will give you many fine babies.”

A slightly hysterical laugh broke from me. “Whoop-de-do. What I’ve always wanted. A man with tentacles on his dick.”

“He will love you like no other,” Granny Annabel said and vanished.

That was a given. The sooner I got Ethan Jones out of my life, the happier I would be.

The snow flurry stopped, and I found myself staring at a bug-eyed kid standing by the urinal. Huh? I hadn’t even realized I had ducked into the men’s room. “What are you looking at?”

“Snow. You.” His voice quivered.

“Beat it.”

He bolted.

Still shivering from the subzero temperatures, I opened the restroom door and groaned. The mall was swarming with cops and Coletti warriors. Wow! All this for little ole’ me?

I didn’t see Ethan, but his buddies were carefully scanning every person before allowing them to leave the mall. Hmm. Time for a diversion. I set the timers on three smoke bombs and casually dropped them in different trash containers.

I might not be the greatest thief in the Dragos clan, but I was a damn good actor. Hobbling like I was ninety-years old and on my death bed, I joined the line at the doors. After a quick look around for my nemesis, I drew on my power and projected the illusion of a Rodan raiding party at the opposite end of the mall.

A woman screamed, “Rodan!”

People stampeded out the doors.

The Coletti Warriors and cops charged toward the fake Rodan.

Pop. Pop. Pop.Smoke spewed from the trash cans.

A kindly man scooped up my shivering form and carried me to safety. Fat girl, two. Warlord, zero.

Chapter Five

The nice man’s name was John. He had a grandmother my age and insisted on driving me home. Did I feel bad for conning him? Nope. Ethan and his buddies would be checking all public transportation. I also didn’t feel like walking home in the 110-degree heat.

I climbed the steep flight of stairs to my crappy apartment and groaned. The manager had slapped a three-day eviction notice on the door. There was only one safe haven left to me. My uncle’s workshop. I quickly packed up my stuff. Projecting the image of an elderly nun, I dragged the heavy luggage down the endless steps and whimpered when a patrol car pulled up. Everything I owned was in the suitcases. I couldn’t leave them behind. I knew the minute I ran for it, there would be a zillion Coletti warriors teleporting in. My only option was to bluff my way out.

Two grim-faced cops got out of the squad car.

Maybe they weren’t here for me. Maybe I was freakin’ out over nothing. The guy in 307 grew marijuana.

My jerk of a landlord walked over to them. “Kizzy Dragos is in apartment 306. What’s the warrant for?”

“Theft,” the older cop said.

I guess Ethan was still pissed about the cookies.

The cute, young cop inquired, “Do you know if she’s home?”

“Dunno.” The landlord replied and went back inside his office.

The older cop started up the stairs.

My taxi pulled up.

I headed for the cab and pushed more power into my illusion.

The young cop stopped in front of me. Need some help, Sister?”

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