“Party girls,” I reminded her. Mallory nodded, and I slipped my arm into hers. I stuck on my most human expression, and we walked arm in arm toward the car, just two girls returning from a night on the town.
I worked not to wince at every tinkle of breaking glass and volley of anti-vampire cursing lobbed behind us, and kept my eyes on the prize. But that didn’t stop my heart from racing. There were more humans here than I could handle alone, especially without a weapon other than the blue-haired girl next to me, who was utterly off-limits.
Sirens sounded around us as the rioters destroyed store windows and set off alarms. As we reached the end of the block—only a few dozen more feet to go—we ducked around the corner, hearts pounding as the rioters drew closer.
Unfortunately, that only riled up my inner predator, which was more than willing to take its chances with humans. Bitchy, whiny humans.
“So, funny story,” Mallory said, her back flat against the wall of the building, her arm tight around mine. “Once upon a time, I tried to have dinner with my best friend, and the apocalypse happened.”
“No kidding,” I murmured in agreement, wincing as sounds of violence punctured the night around us.
“Merit,” she said. “Look.”
I followed the direction of her gaze to the other side of the street, where two young guys had been stopped by rioters who’d split off from the main group.
The kids carried the awkward bearing of adolescence. One was hauntingly thin; the other was more heavyset. They wore ill-fitting clothes that didn’t look warm enough for the cold night, but that was hardly the primary concern.
The rioters, who had six or seven inches and a lot of muscle over them, stood over the guys menacingly. The taller of the bullies had a pincushionesque haircut and a chain with a giant dollar-sign pendant in gleaming gold. His friend, who was four inches shorter, wore a satin jacket with a dragon embroidered on the back and a Cubs cap.
I considered that an insult to the Cubs.
The more heavyset kid must have said something the rioters didn’t like, as they both reached out and shoved the guys’ shoulders, sending them stumbling back a few steps.
“Merit, we need to help them.”
I’d have liked to help them, but first and foremost I had to help her. I could feel the magic beginning to simmer around her, bubbles of it beginning to reach the surface. Soon enough, that magic would reach a full boil, and I might not be able to stop the transition.
“Mallory, I’ve got to get you out of here before something happens.”
She gave me a flat look. “Before I go postal?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Caroline Evelyn Merit. I am not going to go postal.”
So she said. But her track record wasn’t the greatest. We’d managed to create an alliance with shifters, but it was fragile. I didn’t want to be the one to knock it off-kilter.
I looked longingly back at the car.
“I’m not unsympathetic,” I said, “but I have responsibilities, and right now you’re the main one.”
“Shut it,” she said. “You love acting like a vampire hard-ass.”
Without warning, she let out an earsplitting whistle. “Hey, assholes! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
All four gazes turned to us.
“Mallory Delancey Carmichael,” I muttered, swallowing down a sudden bolt of fear. I might have been a vampire, but the rioters had inches and pounds on me, too. And a lot more hatred.
The guy with the pointy hair glared at us, lip curled. “You got a problem, bitch?”
The harshness of the word cut right through the fear. I gave him an Ethan Sullivan–worthy eyebrow arching.
“What did he just say?”
“Oh, no he didn’t,” Mallory whispered. “Go kick his ass.”
Easy for her to say, since I wasn’t supposed to let her do anything. But it was too late to back down now; she’d set the wheels in motion.
Resigned to my fate, I shook out my shoulders, blew out a breath to calm my nerves, and put on my best suit of vampire moxie. “Keep an eye on the main group, and let me know if they get too close for us to get to the car. We can’t take on an entire mob, not alone.”
Mallory nodded.
I rolled my hips into a saunter that kept their gazes on me as I approached them.
“Um. Did you call me a bitch?”
Haircut and Dragon looked at each other and snorted, then bumped fists like they’d scored points by using a one-syllable word.
“I did,” Haircut said. “What are you gonna do about it?”
I ignored the question and looked at the kids. “These guys hassling you?”
“They like vampires,” Dragon said, as if that explained and justified their attitudes.