Hannah Jayne - Under Attack

Lorraine slung her arm around Kale proudly. Kale grinned. “My first locator spell was a success,” Kale said.

“Congrats. But, why were you looking for me?”

Lorraine frowned. “Because we miss you.”

“And because the UDA is going to Hell in a hand basket,” Kale supplied.

“It’s nothing like it was when you and Sampson ran it.”

I leaned against the acid-washed jeans. “Aw, thank you. But I didn’t really run the UDA and Sampson has been gone for a long time.” It still stung every time I said it. “I’m sure Dixon and his guys are doing a good job.”

Lorraine snorted. “Are you kidding? They’ve got Los handling transfer records now.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Los? The goat boy? We’re overloaded with demons because so far, Los has eaten sixteen files.”

“Sixteen?”

I heard a snicker from the group of hooligans who came in earlier. I looked over my shoulder at Avery, who had been watching us and then busied herself folding pink corduroy pants, effectively ignoring her customers.

“Excuse me, guys,” I said, putting my hand on Lorraine’s arm.

I headed over to the gang and pasted on a smile. “Welcome to People’s Pants. May I help you find something?”

One of the boys—who seemed to be the leader of the group—stepped forward. He towered over me by at least two feet and as I scanned the group I realized that they were all unnaturally tall. Which wasn’t completely unusual, given that I am unnaturally short. They all seemed to share the same carved features, too—upturned noses with slight angles, sharp cheekbones, skin so translucently pale it looked oddly luminous under the harsh fluorescent store lights. The five other members of the group sunk back behind the tallest, forming a narrow triangle.

The boy up front seemed to be sizing me up. His eyes were smoke grey and sharp as cut glass. His smile was cocky, bordering on menacing.

You know what we’re looking for.

I staggered back when his voice reverberated through my head. His grin lost all cockiness and was fully menacing—and it mirrored the five other kids behind him.

“You must be Sophie,” he said. “I’m Adam. We’ve been looking for you.”

My stomach lurched. My throat was dry and my breath came in short, hot gasps. “What do you want?”

“We have something for you,” Adam continued. “A little gift from your sister.”

I dropped my voice. “Can we not do this here?”

That seemed to amuse Adam.

“Sophie?” Lorraine came up over my left shoulder. “Is everything okay here?” She bristled when she looked at Adam and I could see that she sensed danger.

Adam’s eyebrows rose with interest. “A witch?” He raised one arm and quickly flicked his wrist. “I don’t like witches.”

I felt the draft from Lorraine’s body as she was flung across the room. “Lorraine!” I cried as she crashed against the back wall and crumpled to the floor. I tried to run to her, but something was pulling me back. It felt as though my bones were magnetized, pulling behind me, tearing against my skin. Pain seared through me. I whimpered and slumped just in time to miss a fireball that leapt from Kale’s outstretched palm and hurtled toward Adam and his gang.

The gang scattered and the fireball hit a rack of rayon palazzo pants; they instantly went up in flames, an impressive plume of choking black smoke snaking toward the ceiling. It took a millisecond for the fire alarm to screech its warning, for the sprinklers to start their meager shower from the ceiling. The water, the screech of the alarm, or the fire must have distracted Adam and his goons because I was able to grab Kale and run toward Lorraine. Kale leaned down and was shaking Lorraine’s shoulder; I looked up and coughed through the grey haze of smoke, then saw Adam materialize just behind me, grey eyes glittering, wide smile unfaltering.

“Get her out of here,” I called to Kale.

Adam lunged for Kale and Lorraine, but I intercepted him, kicking over a rack of cargo pants that he swiftly jumped over. I looked over my shoulder to see Kale helping Lorraine up and I heard the crack before I felt it. Adam had punched me square in the jaw and I reeled back, stumbling over a topless mannequin wearing bedazzled jeans. My nose stung and my eyes watered as the star of pain spread through my jaw. My teeth seemed to throb; I pressed my hands to my face in a futile effort to quell the pain.

I squinted through the growing haze of smoke and was able to make out Adam swiftly approaching me. I huddled back into the pale arms of the mannequin, then pried one off and lurched toward Adam, swinging blindly. I heard the thwack! of a plastic arm hitting fleshy calf and Adam’s loud “Oaf!” as he fell flat on his back.

I dumped the mannequin assault arm and crab-crawled backward, then dove behind the front counter, where Lorraine and Kale had gone and where Avery was huddled, her blue smock pulled over her head, her hands wrapped around the purple quartz.

“This place is going to go up like it’s the Fourth of July!” she yelled.

I clasped my hand in hers. “No, it’s not. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Water from the overhead sprinklers drizzled down the cash register and over the front counter in a steady stream. Kale tried to move her, but the rivulet drizzled on Lorraine’s scalp and down her forehead. The water seemed to be reviving Lorraine; she started coughing and blinking in Kale’s outstretched arms.

Avery pulled the smock off from over her head and there were dark black railroad tracks down her cheeks where her makeup had smeared. “You don’t understand. There isn’t a natural fiber in this entire store. You saw how fast the palazzo pants went up. This place is a powder keg! How are we supposed to get out of here? We have to get out!” Avery scrambled on her hands and knees and poked her head over the counter. She yelped as Adam and his goons closed in on us.

“Who are these guys and why do they hate our merchandise?”

I could think of several hundred rayon and candy-colored reasons why, but I remained silent. Instead Kale put her hand up. “The fire was my fault, actually,” she said apologetically. “I’m really sorry. My aim isn’t great.”

“Don’t apologize; your fire probably saved my life,” I said.

Avery gaped at me. “This is all your fault? Those guys are after you?”

I peeked over the counter and saw that Adam and his gang were pushing through the fire-strewn racks of clothing, not flinching as the white-hot flames licked at their bare arms and legs.

“Let’s play the blame game later, okay? We don’t have much time.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Avery asked.

I looked at Lorraine—who was starting to blink away the sprinkler water and was working to sit up—and Kale. “You’ve got to get out of here. All three of you.”

“What about you?” Kale asked

“Just go!” I jabbed my index finger toward an open aisle snaking out the back of the store. “That way.” The heat of the fire was starting to press on my chest and I labored to breathe. “Now!” I ordered.

Kale hurried the two women out and I stood up, coming face-to-face with Adam.

“Let ’em run,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction the girls had gone. “It’s you we want anyway.”

For the first time, I noticed the squat handle of a bowie knife tucked into Adam’s waistband. I swallowed hard and let out a relieved squeal when I remembered my shiny new stun gun in its black plastic case. Then I winced as I remembered the stun gun and its case, both fitted snugly in my purse, all three ingloriously dumped in locker number forty-three, Hell=People’s Pants scratched into the red metal. Adam seemed to read my distress; his face looked grotesque as he grinned, his cold eyes raking over me.