Page 38 of Of Flame and Fate
When Emme laughs, my life is a little brighter and her entire face lights up. Unfortunately, today it casts a spotlight we don’t need.
I place my arm around her when a man with a shaved head and a devil’s goatee hones in on Emme, his eyes wild. “I want to make you scream,” he tells her.
In a strange way, I think he means it as a compliment. That doesn’t mean we take it that way. “Back off,” I snap. “She’s with me.”
“She can be with us,” he says, holding out his arms. “There’s plenty here for both of you bitches.” His friends, who likely graze the covers of every sex offender alert in the press, laugh. I don’t think they mean to intimidate, they simply do, allowing their size and appearance to speak for them.
I’m not easily intimidated, and I’ve never had a problem speaking my mind. “Sons of Anarchy called, you didn’t get the part. They think you’re full of shit, and P.S. you’re an asshole.”
“Oh!”
I lead Emme forward, glaring at them when they try to follow. One of the guys smiles. He stops smiling when his arm involuntarily lifts and smacks the Sons of Anarchy reject across the face.
The audible skin to skin connection punches through the murmurs of the growing crowd.
That’s all it takes for a fight to break out. I look at Emme, my mouth falling open when the corners of her pink lips lift. “They weren’t very nice,” she says.
“No, they weren’t, and didn’t you show them?”
Shayna laughs, lifting the long needle she created with her power. As I watch, the silver metal shrinks, reducing in size and returning to its original toothpick form. She pockets it and whirls back around. As much as she was leading, she was still aware of what was happening behind her. That’s one of the many things that rock about Shayna, even when you don’t think she’s aware, she is and she’s ready for it.
“Don’t worry about us,” I tell her. “Keep an eye on Destiny.”
Destiny turns around. “Isn’t this the best day, ever?”
“You bet it is,” I say, not meaning a damn word.
We trudge through the circular concourse and reach the funnel cake line where the space is at its tightest. At least thirty people are waiting in front of us, eager to get their sugar on. Just ahead more people are swarming a pizza and hotdog stand. I’m wondering what the hell this crowd ate, smoked, or snorted to give them the munchies so early on.
I don’t wonder long.
An odd outpouring of magic sweeps through the crowd, putting my senses on alert and lifting Sparky in the air.
“What the hell?” I ask, using my other hand to pull her back down.
A woman, who bleached one half of her hair and shaved the rest, rams into me, her eyes wide and fixed in the direction of the stage. “Johnny,” she rasps.
“Johnny,” someone else mimics. “He’s here.He’s here!”
Johnny Fate’s name swirls in awed, hushed tones, the power within it appearing to tame the aggression and unite all who have gathered.
“I can see him.” The man who speaks, stumbles forward, knocking into another woman who barely notices. “I can see Johnny.”
My attention skips around, wondering how it’s possible he can see Johnny. The giant flat screens mounted around the stage aren’t visible from where we stand. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe him.
“Something’s here,” I say, rubbing my arms irritably. “It’s not bad magic, it’s strange magic. Different from anything I’ve ever felt.”
I speak quickly, not caring who hears me and wanting to make sense of it all.
“I feel it, too,” Emme says. Her expression is almost blank from shock. She looks at Shayna who nods in agreement.
We exchange glances, jumping when Destiny raises her fists and screams. The crowd joins her, losing their shit as the first chord of an electric guitar belts out, ricocheting from every speaker.
Shayna checks her phone. “It’s early,” she yells. “Too early.”
Maybe. But there’s more to this than what we’re seeing and feeling. “Call the wolves,” I tell her, my gaze skimming around the crowd.
Son of bitch. I see nothing, but feel everything.