You shake your head. “Sorry, it really wasn’t me.”
She sighs, leaning back on the display case. “Bummer. I was really hoping I could get you to make more.”
“Well…” You glance around the quiet cafe, feeling like you’re spilling a secret as you say, “I think I may know where they came from.”
Mel’s eyes light up, and instantly her entire demeanor changes. She practically glows as she turns to you. “You do?! Tell me!”
“Okay, so…remember that guy I was here with a while back?”
* * *
As you walk home again that night, you get the strangest feeling that you’re being watched. Maybe it’s a skaddler.
You shiver, rubbing the goosebumps down on your arms.
Hopefully not, but you do have your trusty sword, just in case. You reach into your pocket, feeling a little silly as you walk down the street brandishing what amounts to a letter-opener, but it’s late enough that no one else is around to see.
No one, except for the dark shadow that drops from the top of a low building at your side, landing on the deserted street in front of you.
You freeze, heart hammering in your chest.
“Zir—” you start to ask, then stop.
It’s not Ziros.
He’s just as tall as Ziros, with the same athletic build, strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones, but his hair is a bright red that matches the glow of his eyes, and he tosses a fireball in one hand.
“Nice sword you got there,” he says, taking a step toward you. “Mind if I see that?”
He sounds so friendly, you don’t even process that it’s a threat until it’s too late.
He’s notasking.
That’s his way of disarming you, pulling the tiny sword right out of your hand with ease before your body even recognizes what’s happening.
You’re too busy spontaneously remembering Corrine’s story about the guy with fire streaming from his hands, the one who saved her from muggers.
Suddenly, you find yourself believing her.
Although…
“May I have my sword back?” You ask as politely as you can, holding out your hand. After all, you’re operating on the assumption that he’s a good guy, considering he’s probably the same dude that saved your friend and all. “Please.”
He just laughs.
“Sorry, sorceress. For you, I’m not the hero. Not today.”
“What?” You take a step back, turning to flee, but he’s faster.
He catches you, pinning you easily against the side of the nearby building.
“That’s right,” he says as he wraps a blindfold over your eyes, tying a gag over your mouth. “Tonight, you’re bait.”
“Hey!” You shout in muffled protest through the gag, but all you get for your effort is a mouthful of fabric.
At least it’s clean-tasting fabric.
So that’s that.
