I sniffed. “Smells like it.”
In an instant everyone moved. Bruiser ducked out and under the purple smoke to the front of Stephan’s to warn the commander and start clearing the space. Eli went under the table instead of over it and was in the aisle before I noted he had moved, a small weapon at his thigh in a two-hand grip. In a fast, bent-kneed walk, he moved to the rear of the restaurant. The instant he was past, Wrassler stood and pushed the waiter down and to the side. “Get out!” he whispered in a stage whisper that carried through half the restaurant. Everyone nearby looked up. When they moved too slowly, he grabbed up the couple nearest and started clearing the place physically. Syl followed Eli, weapon drawn. Jodi was calling in the local magical hazmat team.
For once, I stayed seated and took pics, sending them to the Kid and to Molly, my BFF witch friend with the text:Problems. Smoke spell. Suggestions?
Instantly, I got a reply from Molly.GET OUT!!!All in caps with three exclamation marks.
Instead, I darted into the kitchen and grabbed the head chef, a sous chef, a dessert chef, and three scullery types. With the words “Terrorist attack. Get out and get under cover,” I shoved them toward the loading exit, an extra door directly from the kitchen into the delivery alley. Terrorists was a lie, butterroristwas much more likely to result in compliance than sayingmagical attack.
“The burners!” the head chef said, pulling away.
“I’ll get ’em.” I yanked his collar and shoved harder to the back, bunching them into a herd and heaving them into the dark. Shutting the door so they’d think twice about coming back in.
I raced over and cut off everything that was hot.Cow!Beast thought. The smells were delish and Beast wanted to taste everything in every pan, especially the half-raw steak. I ignored her and spun back to the restaurant.
But my way was blocked. By a purple wall of smoke.
—
The sound of sirens arriving was crisp on the air. Shouting. Bright lights, purpled by the odd cloud. The restaurant wasn’t empty. I could still smell Bruiser and humans at the front, and Eli and Sylvia at the back. It made sense. Someone had to coordinate the response teams, which meant Jodi and Wrassler would be outside with the populace and the first responders. Syl, the chief of police from Natchez, wasn’t leaving Eli, and Eli and Bruiser weren’t leaving me. Crap.
Two thirds of their concern was stupid. Bruiser and I weren’t human. We were more likely to withstand magical attacks than humans. Eli and Syl were human, and were just as likely to die from magic as any other human, well-trained warrior and cop or not. Military and paramilitary measures were no help against magical workings.
Worse, the wall of spelled purple smoke was growing, expanding. It had filled the hallway and the restaurant and was moving into the kitchen. It should have dissolved and dispersed after Commander and Mrs. Walker left the scene. But... it was getting bigger. So maybe it had a secondary target.
My cell dinged and I risked a glance at the screen. Molly had sent a text.Does it have eyes? How many? Claws? Fangs?
I texted back,No. Is filling space. O2 replacement?I was asking if it intended to suffocate us. Then, the purple-smoke-cloud-spell shifted, roiling, as if blown back by a slow wind. It changed shape. I texted,Now I see claws. See fangs. One set. No eyes yet.
It’s after you?she texted back, guessing the same thing I had.I told you to GET OUT!!!
“Ducky,” I muttered, pocketing the cell. I shouted, “Bruiser, Eli, Sylvia, get outta here. NOW!”
From the front of the restaurant I saw a flash of gold, like a sizzling length of horizontal lightning. The kind that goes cloud to cloud, not heavens to ground. Through the air I heard cursing and a shriek of pain. Then the footsteps of half a dozen human holdouts as they finally took Bruiser’s word and skedaddled.
I heard Eli and Syl speed away, down the hallway toward the front entrance, their steps odd, as if they crouched low to avoid the fog. I raced to the back of the kitchen and swung open the door again. Outside wasmore of the purple vapor, the spell rolling outward, from the restaurant into the neighborhood. I took a step back inside, narrowly avoiding the plumes of magic.
On the far side of the smoke, Eli and Syl crouched, backing up the alley. Looked like they had gotten out just in time. My partner stared at me through the purple smoke, face empty of expression. Battle face. The face he had worn so often since I was hit by magical lightning and he and Bruiser had carried my burned body through the city.
“Can you jump through it?” Eli asked, his tone calm, too calm. Glacier cold.
The spell sensed the open door and boiled in. It brushed my skin with a burning, stinging sensation, like steam, not smoke, hot and wet, not hot and dry, a sensation like tiny needles made of scalding mist, slicing and piercing into me. I leaped back, brushing the purple away. Where it had touched me, I was stained lavender in swirls and parallel lines, like some kind of tribal markings. Or like a spell tattooed into my flesh. Marking me. Why? To what end?
My blood was rising to the surface and pooling like bloody blisters. It hurt where I touched my skin, like a burn from hot steel, but it looked nothing like a burn. It looked as if my blood was being pulled from my veins to puddle just under my skin. I hissed. “No. Can’t jump through that.”
Eli crouched, as if ready to dive back inside. To save me. I slammed the door. Locked it.
This was bad. This was very bad.
“Jane!” Eli yelled from outside.
I eased farther into the kitchen, seeing the mist coming at me from two sides. Backed up until I could feel the heat from the ovens and burners that were still trying to cool.
The gold lightning sizzled again, and this time I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I’d been hurt by lightning. I was still trying to get used to the idea of thunderstorms and weather fronts. And now this...
“I’ve got her,” Bruiser said, from the front room, presumably to Eli, outside. “Jane,” Bruiser said to me. His voice steadied me. I took a breath that tasted like the ashes of violets in the back of my throat.
“It’s marked me with something like tattoos,” I said. “You?”
