Jane grabbed my arm before I could spring forward at him. She stepped between me and the rough-hewn blonds who were slowly edging toward us. They scanned us from head to toe, as if they were gauging the threat we posed. Their eyes shifted immediately from me to Jane, because—despite the murder eyes I was giving my former paramour—I guessed I ranked somewhere near “cranky Pomeranian” in terms of my estimated potential for violence.
And then a tall woman, her arm in a sling, pushed through the shifters, glaring at me. And while I was thrilled that she wasn’t dead, my old friend She-Hulk did not look happy to see me. Or possibly the swelling around the eyes just made it look like she was glowering. Also, her face was riddled with hornet stings, which just made the glowering scarier.
“You,” she hissed. “You’re mine.”
“That’s fair,” I conceded. “I am responsible for your face looking like that.”
She-Hulk’s male cousins snickered, and her glowering increased tenfold.
Jane gave me extreme side-eye. “You just make friends wherever you go, don’t you?”
I dutifully avoided eye contact.
“Who the hell are you, lady?” the biggest of the blonds demanded. He looked like a hungover Viking, with a big barrel chest, a full, bushy golden beard, and heavy bags under his Delft-blue eyes. Given the way the other shifters shrank from him, I guessed he was in charge.
“I am Jane Jameson-Nightengale, the rightful owner of that extremely fragile book that—Michael, is it?” Michael offered Jane his familiar winsome smile, but Jane was having none of it. “That Michael is handling so carelessly.”
“Right?” I exclaimed, making Jane shake her head sympathetically.
“I appreciate that you put a lot of planning and effort into hijacking a plane, attempting a midair James Bond–style theft, and trying to murder my employee, I really do. I mean, the deposits alone must have been insane. But that book is my property. I have plans for it, and I will be taking it back,” Jane told them, holding out an imperious hand, as if it were a foregone conclusion that they would just hand over her lost property.
I got a distinctly uneasy feeling about the way they laughed at that . . . and the way they were closing in around us . . . and the way Michael was backing out of the circle, clutching the book to his chest. Again, with his bare hands. I was having a hard time letting that go.
“Is that right?” The Viking sneered. “How exactly do you think you’re going to do that? There’s two of you and a lot more of us.”
Jane pursed her lips, an expression of distinct annoyance marring her even features. “Look, I didn’t want to play this card, but maybe you should think twice before you steal from a representative of the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead.”
Each and every one of the shifters froze, and their heads simultaneously whipped toward the Viking. Who looked like he wanted to throw up. “What?”
Finn cackled. “You didn’t know Jane works for the Council?”
“You didn’t say anything about it! It’s bad enough, you makin’ us follow you to this hick town for the drop-off. And you’re just now telling us that we’re stealing from the Council?” the Viking shouted back. He snarled at me. “And you! You never said anything about working for a Council representative!”
“I don’t work for you!” I cried. “It wasn’t my job to tell you who you were stealing from! And Finn didn’t know about Jane until after the plane crashed. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I said I was sorry!” Finn called back.
“We—we put my name up on the Council Web site!” Jane exclaimed. “What is the point of having a Web site if all the other monsters don’t bother to read it? Honestly!”
“She even set up a Twitter account,” I told the shifters, patting her shoulder sympathetically.
“Well, Gigi set it up,” Jane grumbled. “But I approve the tweets!”
The Viking shook his head. “Twitter wha?”
“It’s all about making the Council more accessible,” Jane said. Behind her, I could see Finn wriggling out of his restraints, shrugging off the bungee cords. “A major public relations undertaking I’ve spent months arguing for with the international board. There’s so much about the Council that the general public doesn’t know, and that leads to distrust. For instance, we require that each local Council office do a charity toy drive for needy children every Christmas. New vampires are now required to take orientation classes and complete at least ten hours of community service in their first year post-turning. And did you know that as a Council member, I have this little personal alarm?” She raised her hand, showing them what looked like a keyless-entry fob for a car. “When I press this button, it summons a furry, angry cavalry.”