by Karen Chance
“You therefore decided to take care of that,” John said, his head spinning. “How many times?”
“I don’t know. I lost count a while ago. Duck.”
“What?”
Cassie shoved his head down and let off a barrage from an M-16 that strafed a new group of Allu that had been trying to sneak up on them. She grinned at him, a little manically. “They hate it when I do that.”
Her vampires let out what sounded like battle cries, and jumped the disoriented demons. That included Marco, John was relieved to see, back hale and hearty enough to rip one’s head right off its body. But unlike with Sid, there was nothing underneath.
John looked back at Cassie. “Where—” he cleared his throat. “Where did you get the weapons?”
“Downstairs,” she told him happily. “The senate’s using this as a base now, remember? It’s like Guns R Us down there.”
“But they must have guards—“
“Of course.”
“--and you’re without your powers. How did you get in?”
She looked at him like he might be slow. “I’m pythia. I told them to unlock the goddamned door.”
And then she was off, leaving John staring after her, his stomach falling, but a strange sort of smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“I suppose I shall have to go rescue Sid,” Rosier sighed. “We need him to tell the council that neither of us was really at fault here.”
“Uh huh.” But John made no move to help. Instead, he turned and started toward the coffee shop, where a dazed-looking Goth girl was pouring something into an overflowing cup.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his father demanded.
“To buy someone the biggest damned pastry in the world.”
The End
