Witchmas

Trouble Has a New Name

Ch. 5

I sauntered up to the tall witch and looked her straight in the nose. Seriously, she was WNBA material. Not willowy either, but proportioned like an athlete who met a supermodel and had a tall evil witch for a baby.

I know it was a saunter cause I practiced.

"Excuse me ladies while I whip this out," I said and pulled my leather bomber aside to reveal the badge.

It does the job.

Tall girl McTallieson shifted her glare from Tyrone to me and then down to the badge. Eyes go a little wide, not too much, so I know she's playing it cool.

But I was watching for it.

Bad guys react two ways when encountering a Marshall of Magic.

They either go for the spell, in which case we are obligated to waste them. Or if they are smart, they back down.

Most Magic users are smart.

Marshal's sort of have a reputation. Spell first, ask questions later kinda reputation.

We don't discourage it since we have to go up against some very strong warlocks, and baddies. And Trolls. Don't even get me started on Trolls.

"Sir," she said and stepped out of the point of the triangle.

Her two witch friends let their hands slip off her shoulders.

The vibration in the room ratcheted down a notch.

I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Thank you," I said. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

"None of your concern Wizard," growled the taller of the two in back.

Growled at me?

Now if that isn't a sign someone is hiding something and has a grudge to go with it I'm not sure what is.

"I know most of the talent in the area," I said. "I don't know you."

I let the bomber fall closed and hooked one thumb on the outside pocket, just in case. My bomber, like most Wizard's clothes, had been warded many times over. I was a little pissed I skipped the Kevlar vest I usually wear underneath, but come on, who wears Kevlar on a first date?

If the witches were packing heat, I could be in trouble.

"We're from out of town," said the tall one.

She waved a hand behind her back to keep the other two quiet. She was going to handle me.

"I think we just established that with the whole me not knowing you remark."

Her eyes narrowed.

I squinted more than she did.

"We are up from Jackson," she said.

"I patrol Jackson," I said. "What brings you to Memphis?"

"We're Snowbird fans," she smiled.

It was a great smile, a total knockout. Combined with her frame and her face, it was gorgeous. And wasted on me.

"They're having a good season," I nodded. "Games about to begin."

"We would just like a word with that gentleman," she motioned toward Tyrone.

"What word?"

She smiled again.

"Not that kind of word," she answered. "After all, this is a very public forum."

"It is that."

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Just a word," she said.

"Not too many more than one. I wouldn't want you to be late for the game."

She took a step toward Tyrone. I noted all three were pregnant, which surprised me that I hadn't noticed before. Little round bulges protruded from the front of their long flowing dresses.

My precog extends to me and me only.

If the witches were going to do something to Tyrone, he wouldn't have my luck. I was relying on the fact that they knew the consequences of using magic inside this pub.

We were in the world and though millions of people believed in magic in the US, not many needed to see it. Especially witches who planned bad things for what I took to be a young thief in way over his head.

The witches approached Tyrone and blocked his exits. He scooted far back into the booth, pressed up against the wall. He held the book bag in front of him, but crossed both arms over it.

Gloria put a hand on my shoulder.

I'm not saying I jumped. Flinched maybe. Blanched a little.

But I did not jump.

Dang, I shouldn't have been so focused on the witches and their quarry.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing yet."

"Do you know them?"

I turned to her, but kept Tyrone in the edge of my vision as I led us back to our seats.

"Let's say I know their type."

"What type is that?"

"Not good."

"Maybe we're at that part of the date where we tell each other what we do?" she said. "Are you a cop?"

I smiled.

"I'm not a cop."

"Law enforcement of some kind then."

"What makes you say that?" I kept up the grin and slid her martini glass closer to her hand. She took a sip.

"You jumped off this stool to confront them very quickly."

"Yes," I said. "I'm in the enforcement business."

"Can't tell me more? I bet you have a lot of stories to tell."

"Not as many as you might think."

She reached up and touched a thin white line that ran from my temple to behind my ear.

You don't really say "I got that in the Sidhe War," to anyone outside the community.

"Why don't you tell me about your job?" I asked.

The tall witch was pointing a finger at Tyrone as he cowered. She wasn't yelling but with that level of threat you don't really need to raise your voice.

"Investments," she answered. "Real Estate, Start Up's, the like."

"Good money in that?"

"Do you want to go over there?"

I looked away from the trio back to her.

"That was rude of me," I said. "I'm sorry."

"They're very attractive."

"That's not it. They're trouble. I'm just trying to decide what kind and how much."

"Then go back there," she said.

"You don't mind?"

"I think if you go take care of it, we could focus on this date and you telling me how you earned that scar."

I nodded and slid off the stool for a second time that night.

"Go rescue the boy," she said and called the bartender over for another martini.