“Ow, ow, ow,” I said as Ryder collided with me, his arms wrapping me, his breath hot and fast against my cheek. He jerked back, holding me by just his fingertips.
“The ax, the ax,” he huffed. “You threw yourself. You threw yourself at the ax. Where are you… How bad…. Are you bleeding?”
“I’m fine, my shoulder. Dislocated, but I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”
He shifted his grip to my uninjured side, sliding into me gently. I felt his heart beating and beating, shaking his muscles, shaking his bones.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?” Bathin called out, raising both weapons above his head. “Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy.”
I had to give him huge points for continuing with the poem like the whole thing had been a part of the act.
Then Bertie’s calm voice washed out over the crowd. “And that dramatic bit of stage magic will be fine-tuned for tomorrow’s show.
“We would have warned you that something exciting was about to happen, but didn’t want to rob you of the delightful moment when you realized the boring poetry reading was actually something more. Let us give a hand to our performers.”
She clapped, and yes, it took a few seconds before people in the crowd joined in. Those who joined first, from what I could see smushed up against Ryder, were our supernaturals, who knew something had happened in that split second between Goap appearing and taking a swing to Bathin’s head, and then disappearing in a gout of flame, the axe and sword now in Bathin’s hands.
“Vivian,” I said, pushing at Ryder’s chest. “Babe.” He loosened his arm and I stepped back. “Vivian.”
He caught on quick, and pushed me out at arm’s length. “Never agree to be part of an act without telling me there are going to be weapons and fireworks involved,” he scolded, just loud enough, I knew Vivian would hear him.
“Surprise?” I said with a wide grin. Bathin behind me was taking big, dramatic bows, and the crowd went back to showing their appreciation via armpit farts.
We turned together to face Vivian, who had been smart enough to stow her gun.
“You have a concealed carry permit?” I asked, as we rambled over to her. I thought we were pulling off the ha-ha it-was-all-smoke-and-mirrors pretty well, though my shoulder was killing me and my head throbbed.
Vivian’s mouth went hard at the edges, but it was distaste, not suspicion. “Of course I have a permit.”
“And you carry because?” I asked.
“I’m a woman traveling alone writing stories about remote areas. A gun was the first thing I purchased.”
It was a good cover story. Better than saying she was a monster hunter. I had a feeling those bullets had silver in them.
“You could have gotten a dog,” I said. “Protection and someone to snuggle with all in one.”
She smiled, and it was the fake everything-is-so-cute smile again. “I am absolutely, miserably allergic to dogs.” She pouted.
“Speaking of dogs,” Ryder said. “I need to let Spud out. Think you can drop us off, Babe?”
I didn’t want her back in my home, didn’t want her there with Ryder. Plus, I needed to get to the station to talk to a ghoul, and hey, there were two demon weapons we needed to do something about.
Also, my shoulder wasn’t feeling so great, and it was possible I had a concussion. Maybe he should drive me home. Or to the ER.
“Sure,” I said. We made it three steps before Bertie called my name.
I winced. “Yes, Bertie?”
“You were late on your cue. I expect you to work that out with your partner before tomorrow night’s performance.”
She was good. Adding a little extra cover on the fake act might be enough to clear away the rest of Vivian’s doubts.
“I’ll try. And hey—nice special effects. I thought you were going to cheap out like last year.”
“Delaney Reed, I will not tolerate that kind of talk. The special effects in last year’s Show Off were adequately spectacular. Even the local website said so.” She sounded stern, but there was a twinkle in her eye.
“Thank you for showing up,” Bertie said. “Now please leave.” She spun on her kitten heels and shouted out orders for the next performer to step up to the mike.
