“Of all the ridiculous…fine.” I made a fist.
We pumped our fists: one two three.
I threw paper, Jean threw paper, Myra threw scissors.
“Huh. Now that I think of it, you always win this game,” Jean said to Myra. “Are you using your family gift to know what to throw?”
“Me?” Myra said. “I’ve never even thought of such a thing. I get Bunny Kisses.” She shifted the axe to her other shoulder.
“Fine,” I said. “Just Jean and me for the sword.”
Fists again: one two three.
Jean threw rock. I threw paper.
“Dammit,” Jean said. “So what’s left?”
Myra slid the sword and sheath off her shoulder and held it for me. I took it, surprised that it was far too light, but it grew in weight until it was what I would expect in a blade. I took off my backpack, which was still heavier than I remembered packing it, set it at my feet, and worked with the sheath and straps to fasten the sword at my hip.
“You get a gun with demon-killing bullets,” Myra said.
“Hells, yes,” Jean said. “Gimme.”
“Hogan?” Myra said. “Gun?”
“I’m a lousy shot,” he said. “I thought I’d just use magic.”
We stopped and stared at him.
“Half Jinn right?” he said. “You know I have magic.”
“You can grant wishes,” I said. “And you can see the true form of a person. You’ve never said you had any other magic.”
He spread his hands. “Like I need to use magic in Ordinary? I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”
“I need a little more than that,” I said.
“Wishes. I can grant them, twist them, force reality to break against them,” he said. “I can tear them out of a man’s heart, rip them from nightmare. It’s not…you know,nice, but I am not here to be nice.”
Then he gave me a smile that had an edge to it I’d never seen before.
“Babe,” Jean said, taking his hand now that she’d settled the gun and ammunition into place, “that was so hot. I am gonna do so many dirty things to you when we get home.”
“You haven’t asked about me,” Rossi murmured.
“I never worry about how deadly you can be,” I assured him. That got me a smile with a flash of fang.
“Bored,” Xtelle announced. “Are we done with our little games now? I, for one, would like to kick head.”
“It just doesn’t have the same punch as kick ass,” Jean noted.
Bathin’s gaze caught mine, burgundy in the red light around us. “Are you ready to get your man, Delaney?”
I picked up the backpack and shrugged it over both shoulders. “Hell, yes, I am.”
He held up his hand, fingers pressed together, and snapped.
The red extinguished, leaving us in shadows.
