He nodded slowly, as if listening, but the haze of a compelled person did not register in his blue eyes. That’s strange . . . am I losing my touch? The second I let go of Reggie’s arm, he bolted into the building.
If I had time, I’d follow him in and try again. But I didn’t have time, I decided as a hospital-green cube truck parked beside me. No telltale blood-donor markings. Perfect. Hopping out of my Navigator, I opened the truck’s passenger side door and swung smoothly into the seat, earning a pleasantly surprised look from a balding delivery man in his sixties.
“Hello, sir. I believe you have a delivery for me?” I crooned, focusing in on his watery irises, pulling his mind toward mine as I had just attempted with Reggie. This time it worked.
“Do I?” he slurred.
“Yes. Please step out of the truck and begin walking away. Go home and take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll remember nothing about this truck or me. Right?”
“Right,” he drawled. Still mesmerized, he pawed absently at the door with his left hand, finally opened it, and spilled out of the truck. He staggered down the alley toward the street as if drunk.
“Okay. Now,” I murmured, sliding into the driver’s seat. I studied the truck’s gearshift. “At least it’s not a rig,” I muttered under my breath. Those were a pain to drive. I threw the truck into drive and began rolling forward.
Two black Dodge extended-cab pickup trucks pulled in front of me, blocking my path. I slammed on the brakes as four burly men hopped out of each, a mixture of fear and determination in their eyes as they peered up at me. My attention flew down to their hands. There it was, the Sentinel tattoo. That meant they knew this redheaded, green-eyed woman was no ordinary woman. This was no accidental encounter.
Rage flared within me. They had gotten to Reggie, used him for an ambush. But how had they broken my compulsion? “Oh,” I murmured, the puzzle pieces fitting together into a hideous picture. There was only one way to break a vampire’s compulsion: witch magic. That meant either Mage’s prophecy was coming true and the Sentinel was allied with the witches, or Ursula was back in action as a thorn in my side. I hoped for the latter at this point but, either way, I didn’t have time for this.
I briefly considered ramming the trucks but decided against it. The damage might stall the delivery truck. Plus, the noise would most definitely attract the attention of curious passersby. I couldn’t cause a scene in broad daylight in front of a blood bank.
I sighed heavily and rolled down the window. A gust of frigid November air struck me. “Hello, gentlemen!” I called cheerily.
The one closest to my door—a heavyset, brown-haired man of six feet—edged forward. He wasn’t getting too close, though. Smart. “You don’t look like the typical truck driver,” he answered with a nonchalant grin, trying to play up his ignorance of my identity. He was a decoy, of course, meant to distract me from the two men to the right who were busy readying a flamethrower drawn from a compartment in the back of one truck—the Sentinel’s weapon of choice against us. It was stupid, really, given the speed and power of a vampire, yet they still did manage to catch us unawares sometimes. But they hadn’t been dealing with the likes of me.
I couldn’t let this go any further, knowing they’d torch the truck, destroying the blood supply. I gave him my sweetest smile, all while plucking helixes of magic from my body, arming myself. I’d paralyze them. Simple. “Oh, but I’m not. You know that . . . don’t you?”
The grin slid off his face as his eyes darted to the others; he gave the slightest nod.
I laughed aloud. “Seriously? Haven’t you guys realized who you’re up against?”
With that, I sent a bolt of magic out to seize the flamethrower clean from the man’s grip, letting it fly back and smash through the passenger side window to rest on the seat next to me. Glass rained down everywhere but I barely noticed. “I’ve been looking for one of those,” I said conversationally.
As the words left my mouth, I heard a faint click. I whipped my head up to see two men stepping out from behind a truck fifty yards away; one held a bazooka. It was pointing at me. And its rocket had been launched.
With no opportunity to weigh my options, I sent another bolt of magic out—this one a thousand helixes strong—to block the rocket and send it back to its launching point, trying to contain the blast. The truck rocked with the explosion, bricks, metal, and body parts flying in every direction.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” I muttered, silently berating myself for being too cocky to notice their plan unfolding. I need to get out of here. Now. I wrapped magical threads around both trucks. With a flick of my wrist, they were swept aside like a minor inconvenience, crumpling against the brick walls and taking four more men with them.