Cassandra Palmer 1(48)
«Rats.» It took me a second to realize that Pritkin was commenting on the type of shape-shifters we were dealing with instead of expressing mild irritation.
Okay, I'd been right. Point for me. I'd gotten confused because the were-DNA seemed to have gotten mixed up with the satyr genes for a really unappealing mess. Jimmy—I assumed it was him because he was wearing the remains of his once stylish suit—was a gray and white tower of fur with three-inch claws dangling from arms ropy with muscle. The change seemed to have helped with his hands. They were still bloody but looked like they might be functional. Something else had changed, too. He'd never been all that menacing in his usual form—it was one of the reasons he'd made a good hit man, since people tended to underestimate him—but he was doing pretty well at the moment. I was armed, but Tomas had trapped both my arm and my gun underneath me. Jimmy stood right in front of me, and I couldn't do more than glare into his beady eyes.
I wasn't happy, but neither was anyone else. Pritkin hadn't bothered to worry about firearm regulations, having simply thrown a leather trench coat over his collection. He had the shotgun in one hand and a pistol in the other, and was pointing them both at Jimmy. Louis-Cesar had his rapier out, which looked really weird considering that he'd changed into more normal-looking clothes for the trip outside MAGIC. He was wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and a pair of jeans faded almost white. They molded to his lower body so tightly that they might as well have been painted on, and I decided that I'd been wrong before; modern clothes showed off his physique just fine. He was looking the weres over as if trying to decide which to carve up first. They must have thought the same thing, because the attention of most of the rats was focused on him instead of me.
«Tomas, take Mademoiselle Palmer back to her suite and see that she is comfortable. We'll be along presently.» Louis-Cesar sounded as calm as if all he and Pritkin planned was to have a couple of drinks and maybe play some blackjack.
I was getting really tired of people ordering me around. «No! There is no freaking way I'm leaving until—»
«I will take her.» Pritkin spoke at the same time I did and moved towards me in a sort of sideways shuffle to let him keep his weapons leveled on the rat pack and their vamp outriders. I was about to tell him to go to hell—I wasn't going anywhere with him and his arsenal—when Tomas picked me up and started backing away.
«Tomas, put me down! You don't understand—I've been looking for him for years!» I may as well not have bothered talking for all the attention he paid me, and struggling would only be a waste of time. I gave up and raised my gun, hoping that the close quarters would compensate for the lousy angle and let me get at least a couple shots into Jimmy. I doubted that I'd do much damage, both because of my lack of skill and because weres are notoriously resilient, but all I needed was to slow him down enough for Billy to do his thing. He could find out what I wanted to know and fill me in later. But before I could fire, Tomas shifted me into one arm and snatched the gun away with the other. I was beginning to be very tired of his doing that, but, armed or not, I wasn't giving in. This might be my only chance to deal with Genie's killer, and I wasn't about to miss it. «Billy Joe—what the hell are you waiting for? Do it already!»
The hovering cloud gathered itself and dropped onto Jimmy like a stone. Tomas tried to pull me away but I fought him. He didn't want to hurt me and it slowed him down a fraction. A second passed, no more than that; then Billy Joe burst out of Jimmy as if he'd been fired from a cannon and slammed straight into me. I didn't resist him, thinking that he might not have had enough energy left for the possession and needed a draw to complete the process. But the force kept pushing on me until I thought I would suffocate, as if there was more of him than usual and there wasn't room inside my skin for both of us.
I had no time to think, much less react, before a tremendous explosion rocked me from the inside out, like an airliner losing cabin pressure. I felt something tearing and thought it was my blouse, what little there was of it. I instinctively clutched at it since I'd had to leave the ruined bra behind, but my hand didn't encounter my familiar curves under spandex. Instead, my fingers slid over well-worn denim. I looked down to see the top of my head. I blinked, but the view didn't change: I was still clutching myself to my chest. I had a complete sense of disorientation, but no time to deal with it because Jimmy decided to rush me and all hell broke loose.
Jimmy tore into me, literally, latching on to my arm with those knifelike teeth. I screamed and dropped the body I was carrying onto the ground. I had time to see a pair of huge blue eyes looking up at me in amazement before Jimmy started to shake his head, trying to rip my arm off. I reacted without thinking, pulling away from the piercing pain, and stared in shock as his body went sailing past me and crashed into a nearby car. Throwing him had been unbelievably easy, like he weighed no more than a doll.