But trouble there was. I froze in the man’s clutches and watched, horrified, as Pery came flying off the main staircase toward another gunman. It was my vision. A gunshot reverberated in the hollow room. Pery, half shifted into his wolf form, yelped as he fell to the floor.
Everyone scrambled; more shots rang out. Growls and shouts from the workers as they, too, started to shift—their claws out, jaws elongating to reveal sharp canines.
“Nobody move!” the man shouted, wrenching me closer to him.
“Dude, that was my ear.”
He pressed the gun harder into my temple. The workers stopped, their hands—some sprouting claws—were up, and they backed to one side of the room. The third man, looking like he might shit himself any second, held a gun on them.
Regge emerged from the basement, and my captor waved him into the middle of the room. With a glance at me, he put his hands out to the workers.
“It’s okay, guys. Just stay calm.” He looked at the man who held me. “You’re back. What the hell do you want now?”
I turned my head slightly to see the man who’d chased us onto the balcony weeks ago. What had Julian called him? Shorty. Yeah, that was it.
The man who’d shot Pery, waved his gun casually at the wolves.
“Is that a pink gun?” I couldn’t help be ask. The young kid next to him lost his nervous look and smirked.
“See? I told you it was a pussified piece to carry.”
Pink gun guy turned to him, gun waving. “It shoots perfectly fine. Just ask that guy.” He indicated Pery still on the ground. I struggled briefly, wanting to help, but I knew unless the bullet was silver, Pery would heal.
Pink gun guy was still defending his weapon of choice. “It was my mom’s okay? She wanted me to have it when she passed. And it’s not pink. It’s dusty rose.”
Shorty squeezed my collar bone as he held me. “Where’s Eskridge?”
“Who?” I asked innocently.
“Eskridge. Julian Eskridge. I know you know him.”
Regge was quick to recover. “He’s dead.”
Shorty flinched. “You’re lying.” Though his sudden tension against me said he believed Regge.”
“Mr. Eskridge was a passing acquaintance, at best. So why would we lie about his death?” Regge glanced longingly at the empty front desk. I knew he was itching for the sword stashed behind the counter.
I spoke quietly, the calm belying my thundering heart. “As my partner said, we’re not friends. We barely knew the guy.”
The man released me, and we faced each other. I frowned at the gun pointed at me. “Could you put that away? It’s making me nervous.”
“You hear that, Shorty?” Pink gun chuckled. “We’re making him nervous.”
Regge had edged closer to the counter now, his eyes sending messages to me. All he needed was a quick distraction and he’d have the sword. And Mafia heads would roll.
Before I could say anything, I was hit with another vision. This one so quick I’d barely moved. When it vanished, I smiled at Shorty.
“I know what happened to Julian.” I forced out a laugh, drawing my audience. “You won’t believe it.”
Pink gun guy was frowning at me now. Which meant he was pointing his pink/dusty rose/shoots-like-any-other-gun at me. Shorty readjusted his aim as well.
There was only the nervy guy left, whose attention wavered between the workers and us. The wolves had already spread apart to make keeping track of them difficult.
Shorty sighed but asked, “What happened to Julian?”
“A giant ate him.” I smiled. The ceiling above us rumbled, making the ancient chandelier wobble.
“Who else is here?”
