Fuck that.
Will grabbed one of the weird blue balls off the floor and hucked it into Justin’s path. He stepped right on it, tumbling forward and landing in an awkward sprawl. Will ran forward, then ducked as Justin pulled a gun from a holster on his leg and fired. The bullet sailed over Will’s head, and behind him a pane of glass shattered.
“Justin, you asshole, what the hell is wrong with you?” Will was legitimately surprised; Justin Levesque was a cat burglar who generally considered guns beneath him.
“Ça a mal tourné, attendez-vous,” Justin shouted into an earpiece as he got his feet under him and made for the stairs again. Cole was first after him this time, leaving Will scrambling to keep up. They raced up the stairs and by the time Will got there, Justin was standing alone in the middle of the floor, gun raised toward them like he meant business.
“No closer, s’il vous plait!” he called out. “Or I’ll shoot!”
Will scoffed. “Bullshit, you’ll shoot.”
“I’ll do it!”
“You faint at the sight of blood—you’re not going to shoot us.”
Justin frowned. “That was one time.”
“And it wasn’t even your blood.”
“It wasone time.”
“I had to carry you on my back for two miles after putting myownpressure bandages on. C’mon now.” Will shook his head. “Be honest with yourself. You’re not gonna shoot us and you can’t get by us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still make this deal work.”
Justin’s eyes narrowed. “I will only make a deal with Monsieur Campeau.”
“Campeau is otherwise occupied,” Cole spoke up. “And he will be for some time. Where’s Marcus?”
“Ah, who?”
It was a nice try, but they both clocked his little flinch. “Marcus Ekström,” Cole continued. “The man who gave you the Puffin you’re carrying on the left side of your jacket.”
Huh? Not in the backpack?
“I assume he’s close by,” Cole went on. “Because he wouldn’t trust you to make a deal this big on your own and not double-cross him. Did he drive? Or is he watching from a high-rise window somewhere?”
Justin scowled. “We’re finished here. I already tol’ you, I will not deal with anyone other than Monsieur Campeau.” He turned and raised his gun in the direction of the glass cage, blowing out the back wall in two shots. He started to run, and?—
Cole was on him before he could go ten feet. Will took a moment to be surprised by just how fast that man could sprint as he watched the pair of them fall to the floor again, close enough to the smashed wall that they ended up rolling around on broken glass as they grappled for control of the gun. Cole ended up with it, but his momentary distraction was enough to allow Justin to buck him off. He sprang up, turned, and ran again. He was preparing to jump when Will’s fingers closed around the collar of his jacket, jerking him back as hard as he could.
It wasn’t enough. Justin’s weight dragged him off his feet and forward onto the floor of the glass cage until his head and shoulders were dangling over nothing as he tried to keep Justin from falling. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Will shouted, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Let go!” Justin snapped, flailing like a scruffed kitten. It would have been cute if Will wasn’t on the verge of losing his grip.
“Grab on!”
“Let go, you—Crisse!” He scrabbled for a second at his jacket, but it was too late. The Puffin had already slipped out of whatever he was holding it in, and it fell into space. A few seconds later, it?—
Shattered.
It didn’t dent or deform or crack.
Itshattered.
Like it was no sturdier than a piece of pottery.
Like it was just a cheap impression of the real thing.
Will watched realization spread across Justin’s face, followed quickly by fury. A second later he straightened his arms and slipped right out of the jacket that was the only thing standing between him and the ground. Will shouted, terrified for a split second that he was about to watch Justin do the squishy version of shattering himself before he saw the chute open. It openedbarelyfast enough to save him, but save him it did. Justin cut it free as soon as he landed and began running toward a car, shouting and swearing.
