Page 57 of Roses Are Dead
Of course, given the location, events surrounding me, and the general lack of order, I could be wearing a neon sign that read, “hazardous waste,” and these assholes would probably still mess with me.
They didn’t look like the picky type.
Speaking of marks. I traced a hex into the air in front of me and rattled off some Latin I’d memorized from a dystopian novel. Then added to the vibe with a real protection spell.
I even spit onto the floor at the closest one’s feet to seal the deal. Then stared him down.
This would either end with me getting hit and dragged out of here, or they’d walk away. Odds were fifty-fifty. And since I was a long-ass way from the door, someone would have to step in, wouldn’t they?
The bigger and hairier one of the two broke first. He had less to prove. But the smaller one goaded him. “Don’t pussy out, Tilly. She’s just a little thing.”
“I think she cursed me.”
“It’s in your head. She’s like that bitch in those videos. You know the one who says stupid shit to scare men.” He kept his buddy’s bulk as a wall between him and I, but sidled closer. “You’re just a scared little girl…”
Of all the things he could say, that was the worst.
“I killed a man when I was fourteen. I’m almost thirty now and possess a much more effective imagination.”
If only I had a knife, or something that would equalize this situation. I grinned, letting a little of my insanity shine through. Loathsome as it was, I empathized with Carl in this moment. He could do crazy like no one I’d ever seen. Of course with him, it was natural. Mine was earned.
The big guy hesitated. “She’s Bear’s.” He hit his partner with the back of his hand to get his attention. Then he flagged down Whoosh. “Yo, prospect!”
Whoosh glared at him. “I ain’t your prospect.”
“My buddy here doesn’t believe she’s Bear’s woman.” His voice held a small tremor.
Whoosh’s eyes narrowed on me. He could sink me with a single denial.
“She came in with him, and he’s probably going to be leaving with her, so… yeah.”
“Told ya!” The bigger one of the two shoved the smaller one away. But my antagonist bounced right back, sliding closer.
“I wanna touch.”
A baseball bat hit the bar rail next to me with a loud clang that reverberated from our end of the bar to the other. Everyone turned to look.
There was a dent in the brass almost as wide as my palm.
“Touch her and die.” Whoosh had stepped on something behind the bar because he stood taller than he had, and leaned forward, almost climbing over the bar as he did. One hand was on the bat, the other on his waist. There was a gun strapped there that I hadn’t noticed before.
I leaned back in my barstool, still keeping one hand on the drink I’d barely touched, and the other rested in my lap, as if I hadn’t a care in the world.
But my heart was racing and my ears rang from the shock of Whoosh’s violent outburst.
Yet, I couldn’t resist letting the corner of my mouth curve upward. Carl did that when he was particularly pleased at some tragedy. If this man was about to die, I’d wear that smile throughout the entire act.
Four Destroyers rushed from their closed meeting room and grabbed the men with the different colors on their vests and hauled them outside.
Boo. Now I wouldn’t get to see the fun.
“You okay?” Whoosh didn’t sound pleased.
I straightened my expression. “Thank you.” He’d saved my hide. I let a little sincerity warm my tone.
“Don’t thank me. Bear would have my ass if something happened to you. That shit you did with the woo-woo and your face? You learned that from that fucktard, Carl, didn’t you?”
The real story was much more complicated. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
