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Magic Strikes(49)

By:Ilona Andrews


damn dinner and serve it to you naked.»

«Is that a promise?»

«Yes. Go fuck yourself.»

I slammed the phone down. Well, then. That was perfectly reasonable.

On the other side of the counter an older, heavyset man stared at me like I had sprouted horns.

Glenda handed me the money I'd given her. «That was some conversation. It was worth ten

bucks.»

I got up just in time to see Brenna ride up, leading an extra horse.





CHAPTER 16



I VISITED DEREK. I STAYED FOR HALF AN HOUR and then Doolittle came in, took a look

at my face, and decided I needed another lovely glass of tea. I followed him into the kitchen. It

smelled like food: a rich, savory aroma of gently spiced meat and fresh pastry. The scent grabbed

me and I practically floated to the table, just in time to see Jim slide a golden-brown loaf onto the

cutting board. He carefully sliced an inch-wide section from it, revealing a beautifully cooked

medium-rare sirloin.

I nearly fainted. «Beef Wellington?»

Jim scowled. «Just because you never have any decent food in your refrigerator . . .»

«It's because you or Derek or Julie eat it all.»

Brenna came in and got a bowl of salad out of the fridge.

«Plates are in the cabinet,» Jim said.

I got out four plates, found silverware, and set the table. Doolittle put a glass of iced tea in front

of me. I tasted it. It had so much sugar, if you put a spoon into it, it would stand up all by itself.

Jim placed a slice on my plate. When I made Beef Wellington, it looked good. His looked

perfect.

Brenna sat next to me. «Sorry about the thigh.»

It took me a second to connect the stinging bite on my leg to the quiet woman next to me. «No

problem. Sorry about the needle.»

The scar on her throat had faded, but a thin gray line was still there. «It's okay,» she said. «I've

had silver in me before.»

«Where is everybody else?» I asked.

Nobody answered. Chatty Cathys, the shapeshifters.

I cut into my Beef Wellington and put a small piece in my mouth. It tasted like heaven. Jim cut

his meat with the precision of a surgeon.

«Curran called.»

The three shapeshifters around me stopped breathing for a moment.

«I thought I'd mention it before you started eating. I didn't want you to choke.»

«He say anything?» Jim asked.

«You have three days to turn yourself in.» I imitated Curran's voice. «After that he'll have to find

you. And he doesn't want to find you.»

«Anything else?»

«He mostly cussed after that. I told him you and I were having a hot roll in the hay and he was

interrupting.»

Tea came out of Brenna's nose.

Jim struggled with it for a long moment. «I wish you hadn't done that.»

«He didn't believe it.» I left it at that. Mentioning my morning exercise and naked dinner

promise was bound to give Jim apoplexy. «He can't find us here, can he?»

«Never underestimate our lord,» Doolittle said.

«It's hard to say,» Jim said. «Curran's persistent. He'll find us eventually. But not for a while.»

I hoped he was right. If not, both of us would have some explaining to do.

WE WAITED FOR SAIMAIN IN THE PARKING LOT OF the Games.

Jim's black, fur-trimmed cloak flared behind him as he walked, revealing a black leather vest,

black pants, and black steel-toed boots. His body was toned to the point of absurd: he looked like a

prizefighter in his prime, his thick muscle crisply defined, his stride loose, his bearing broadcasting

bad-ass. An ugly scowl sat on his face. He looked as if he wanted to punch somebody.

«You need a pair of shades,» I told him. «Someone might mistake you for a yuppie.»

«Never happen.»

Saiman's sleek ride slid into the parking lot. He got out, dapper and urbane in his Thomas

Durand persona, popped the trunk, and took out an oblong object bundled in canvas and wrapped

with a cord. He swung it onto his shoulder, which proved to be a difficult feat-the thing was about

four and a half feet long and two feet wide.

We headed to the door. Saiman caught up with us and passed the bundle to Jim. Jim showed no

strain as he took the bundle. It might have been light as a feather, but by the way Saiman's stride

eased, I could tell it had to be heavy.

«Your crew passes.» Saiman handed me two yellow tickets and slowed down, putting some

distance between us and himself.

We reached the doors and I presented the crew passes to the outside guards. They waved us on to

Rene's welcoming arms. Recognition sparked in her eyes. She surveyed Jim and turned to me.

«Congratulations, love. You traded up. Does he treat you well?»