“What do you think this place is?” Luce’s raspy voice scratches the air. “A drive-through?”
“I’m not expecting the sandwich to be hand-delivered. I’ll come back for it. Just going to walk my girlfriend back to the car.”
The Zumba coach might’ve gone to juvie and lived on the street, but if this is a nest of Holy Hunters, then these people will have weapons that could hinder me before I can save him.
“Your girlfriend?” Luce’s lurid lips quirk. “How sweet.”
Her comment throws me for a loop. Why in the world does she care about our relationship status or think it sweet?
“Come on.” Cillian tows me toward the door.
Just as he shoves it wide, a light turns on at the far end of a short hallway.
“Those motion detectors are so darn sensitive,” Freddie grumbles—loudly.
Since motion detectors are activated bymotion, I draw us to a halt.
“Creed must be back from his stroll. Can you check, Luce?”
Luce stands, and I’m struck by how short she is. At least two heads shorter than I am. “If your cat just brought in a dead pigeon—again—I’m done with your deli, Freddie.”
When she starts down the hallway, I finger the zipper of my fanny pack for easy access to my weapon.
Butcher paper crinkles. “Here you go,” the cook, and I guess the owner of this deli, considering the name, slides the sandwich across the counter. “If you still got engine troubles, boy, I’ll get my car. Just honk.”
Cillian lets go of me to grab the roll. “Thanks.”
Luce suddenly gags and shuts the door she’d just peeked through. “That’s it!” She heaves. “I’m done.”
“Another pigeon?” Freddie grumbles.
Luce clutches her throat and heaves again. “Halfa pigeon.”
As Cillian finally ushers me out of there, I frown, not so sure about this place being a front. Unless the two inside are exceptionally good actors.
“Swear not to sample that sandwich.” Cillian scowls, drawing the passenger door wide. “Not even if Gael pushes you to, okay?”
His concern for me is so sweet that I find myself smiling.
He does not return my smile as he rounds the station wagon, jams his key in the ignition, and revs up the engine. It’s only as he pulls away from the curb that I recall his demand for jumper cables.
I don’t bring it up, but I think of nothing else as I set my eyes aglow and compel him to drop me off around the block. I study his features as I coerce him to forget about this trip and drive straight back to his place.
His eyes are open wide, his pupils dilated. He might be able to fake the size of his eyes, but not of his pupils.
Right?
Chapter 37
Electra
After Cillian leaves, I toss the sandwich, then creep back down the street toward the deli.
Using magic, I let myself into the padlocked vintage shop across the road. The one with an unhindered view of the deli façade and a partial view of the alley. I text Gael my exact location before settling into a pocket of darkness to keep watch.
The lights go off inside the eatery and turn on in the alley. Or rather, the beams on a pickup truck—I assume, Freddie’s. I squint against the glare, trying to make out if he’s alone in the vehicle.
It’s only once the truck turns the corner that I’m able to count the number of passengers. I snap a picture of them, then of the license plate, and then I pinch the picture until I’ve blown it up enough to see who rides with Freddie.
