Page 18

When we drove up to the theater, the owner—Harold—was pacing outside the small box office.

Since the last showing for the night had already started, there weren’t many people around.

Harold pushed a hand through his short graying hair and frowned uncertainly at Duncan’s camper van until we parked and stepped out.

Then his dark eyes widened with recognition, and he sprang upon me in relief.

I’d never seen him before but sensed, as with Minato’s wife, a hint of power within him.

Another member of the paranormal community as well as the business community.

Funny how many magically-inclined people ended up working for themselves.

Or maybe it wasn’t. We tended to be quirky with attributes that didn’t lend themselves well to normal employment.

“Ms. Valens.” Harold pulled out his phone, tapping the photos app. “Thank you for coming. I can sense the lupine power rippling about you. It’s wonderful .”

“It has its moments.”

When Duncan stepped up beside me, Harold looked at him, lips parting in surprise. “You also have lupine power. It blazes like the sun.”

“Nice of you to notice.” Duncan bowed amiably toward him.

“Mine only ripples,” I said.

“But the ripples are so lovely and appealing,” Duncan said.

“Should that bolster me so that I don’t feel lesser next to you?”

Duncan nodded, but Harold spoke again before he could reply.

“You are both magnificent. I know you will be able to handle this problem. These brutes are in the first theater inside.” Harold showed us a photo he’d taken of the men raiding his concessions stand, helping themselves to popcorn and arms full of boxes of candy.

Judging by how much they were taking, the police categorizing the crime as minor didn’t seem right.

That had to be hundreds of dollars’ worth of snacks.

“Eating food like that, it’s surprising they’ve amassed such bulk,” Duncan murmured, flexing a biceps.

“Carbs are great for making you big,” I said. “It’s what they give cows before slaughter.”

“Skittles and Junior Mints?”

“Well, corn and barley. I’m sure a cow would eat a Junior Mint if offered one.”

Duncan shook his head and said, “Herbivores,” in the same kind of superior way my mother might have. Leave it to werewolves to be snobby about other animals’ dietary preferences.

Harold showed us another photo, the backs of the heads of the men who were sitting in the theater. One was looking toward him and giving the middle finger.

My breath caught. That was one of the faces from Ivan’s security footage. It might be the guy who’d taken my sword, whose hair sample was, at that very second, in a baggie in my pocket.

I looked around the parking lot, as if the sword might be in the back seat of a car the thugs had driven over. Wishful thinking. Besides, they’d come on motorcycles. Several were parked on the cement walkway in front of the theater instead of in legal spots.

“If I had a knife, I would slash their tires to make sure they couldn’t escape.” Or if I’d had a sword . I missed that weapon more than I’d expected to, maybe because I was a quarter of the way to competent with a blade, now that I’d had lessons.

“I’ll be happy to take care of that if you ensure there won’t be repercussions to my establishment or myself,” Harold said.

“Do it,” I said. “And blame it on us. We’re about to kick them out.”

I nodded to Duncan, and he smiled agreeably.

Harold looked at me with such appreciation that he had to be seconds away from kissing me. He gave Duncan a similar look.

Duncan must have interpreted it the same way because he backed up, lifted a hand, and pointed at the front door. “They’re that way, you say?”

“First door.” Harold gestured toward it without kissing either of us.

Duncan and I headed for the entrance.

“Since I didn’t bring any weapons, we’re going to have to get furry,” I told him, hoping I could call upon my magic for the second time that evening.

“I expected that.” Duncan removed his jacket as we stepped inside, startling a pimple-faced teenager running a vacuum over the carpet.

The kid was sticking to a corner far from the theater door; he’d probably also had an unpleasant run-in with the thugs.

“I’d better take off my clothes before changing so I don’t lose them, but I also feel we should talk to these guys and give them a chance to leave peacefully before we start biting them.

” My outfit had already dodged a bullet that night, and I was determined to keep it.

Besides, the clothes cost more than a lot of the other garments in my wardrobe.

I could wear them to the real estate meetup at the bowling alley.

“Perhaps you’d like to step into the loo and change, while I deliver an ultimatum to them?” Duncan suggested.

“You don’t care about your clothes surviving a shift?”

“I’m quite fast at shucking them. I’m even wearing trousers with an elastic waistband tonight.” Duncan slid a thumb into them and stretched them sideways to demonstrate.

“Sexy.”

“The man makes the clothes, isn’t that the saying?”

“Not quite.”

Since the lobby was empty, with the owner busy out front, applying box cutters to tires, and the vacuum-wielder navigating down a hallway, I removed my shoes, socks, jacket, and phone without going into the bathroom. I loosened a few other items, Duncan doing the same beside me.

“I’ll talk to them,” I said. “I’m the supposed crime fighter for Shoreline now.”

I didn’t care about getting credit for stopping criminals, but Duncan would likely move on one day—because he adored travel, I told myself, not because he would die within weeks.

I had to establish myself as the person the criminal element feared to cross.

They needed to know that I could and would protect the neighborhood.

“Not supposed,” Duncan said. “You undeniably fight crime. And you do it with wondrous aplomb.”

“You didn’t see me knee the brute in the backyard in the balls.”

“Ball-kneeing can be done with aplomb. It’s unfortunate that the house exploding kept me from witnessing your battle. I do enjoy watching you fight.” His words were light and playful, but he gazed at me with pleasure, as if he truly did enjoy that.

My cheeks warmed at his appreciation, and I kissed him on the cheek. “I like watching you fight too. And having you at my side.”

“A most enjoyable place to be, my lady.” He bowed to me, then strode forward and thrust open the door to the theater.

The sound of movie dialogue flowed out, a tense drama scene playing on the large screen.

No heads turned in our direction, though I spotted the pack of thugs in prime center seats near the front.

The rest of the movie-goers must have left along with the harassed woman that Harold had mentioned. It was a private showing.

Shouts on the screen made me wish I’d thought to ask the owner to turn off the movie. It would be hard to deliver an ultimatum over the noise.

Duncan let me head down the aisle toward the men, lingering to remove the rest of his clothing.

He had to assume the thugs would reject my offer to leave peaceably.

After all I’d endured from them, I didn’t even want to make the offer, but the comic books I’d read to my sons in their youth ensured that was proper superhero etiquette.

“I heard you thugs didn’t pay for that popcorn,” I said loudly when the movie quieted.

As they turned around—yes, the thief from the security-camera footage was with them—the screen went dark. Harold had been emboldened by our arrival.

“Look who’s butting into our lives again,” one thug said.

“You’ve been butting into my life for weeks, asshole. Where’s my sword?” I glared at the one from the camera. “And the wolf bracelet you helped steal?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, bitch. You get out or…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to my side.

Duncan padded up on all fours, the hackles of his salt-and-pepper fur up. He growled at the men.

“ You get out. Or don’t, but know that I’ve decided to help clean up this town.” I winced at the cheesy Western-movie delivery, but oh well.

One man reached into his jacket. My instincts warned me that more than one thug was armed, and did I detect a hint of magic? Silver bullets in a gun?

“If you dumbasses don’t leave Shoreline,” I said, “I’ll make sure you’re buried here.

You can’t stay unless you shape up and become good citizens.

Instead of bullying others out of what they’ve worked hard for, you can leave offerings for the charities in town.

Money, or good coffee or dark chocolate. ”

That was what charities needed, wasn’t it?

With my own magic flowing through my veins and the change approaching, it was possible my words weren’t that logical. I didn’t care. I welcomed the power heating my blood for I had no doubt that this would turn into a battle.

“You bring the hand thing?” one man whispered to another as several stood.

“It’s in my saddlebag. Just pound them the old-fashioned way.”

“That hasn’t worked yet.” The first speaker glanced toward an exit door.

The man who’d been reaching into his jacket pulled out a handgun. He aimed it toward my head, but I was already dropping to all fours.

Duncan surged over the seats, springing at the gunman. I tried to tear off the rest of my clothing before the wolf took over, but I didn’t manage to get everything. It was just as well. There wasn’t time.

As the shooter fired, Duncan leaping into his chest and bearing him down between the seats, another guy ran into the aisle toward me. He tried to kick me, but I’d finished changing, and the instincts of the wolf took over.

I caught his leg with my jaws, biting down. At the same time, I yanked backward, pulling him off his feet. One of his pack mates jumped out, trying to knock me away from the fallen human. I bit him too, fangs sinking through his leather jacket and into his side.