Life, Death and Magic: Moonspell Reimagined (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Fourteen:

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

"Aren't you gonna call for backup, Officer?" short-guy-I-once-accidentally-bumped-into asked.

I had to glance behind myself again. It was just me. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

"Sure we do," the woman said. "And you didn't see anything back there, either, did you?"

"I really didn't see anything."

My heel caught on something as I backed away, and I started to wobble. I threw my arms out, trying to balance, and the taller man, the one I'd never seen before, reacted.

He was pointing a handgun at me.

I'd thought it was the shorter guy who'd had the gun. Maybe they all had guns. I couldn't believe I'd managed to leave my wand in the car– although, I thought morbidly, maybe that was for the best. Using magic would mean Snatchers, and I'd rather take on a group of muggles then a group of Snatchers anyway– though I still had hopes of talking my way out of this. It was a mistake, after all; I had no idea why they'd think I was a cop, but surely they'd have to realize I was just a student?

"Hey, hey," I said, holding my hands higher so he could see they were empty. "I'm not a cop. I'm still in high school." I kept edging away until my back ran into the chain-link fence.

"You think I'm stupid?" the woman asked. "You think your plainclothes getup fools me? I saw you with your cop partner, Vice."

"What? No, that was my mom!" I said, and my voice broke.

She laughed. "You're just a baby pig?"

"Sure, okay. So that's cleared up. I'll get out of your way now..." I started sliding along the fence.

"Stop."

It was the bald man, still pointing the gun. I froze.

"What are you doing?" the short guy said to him. His voice was low, but the street was very quiet, and I could hear him easily.

"I don't believe him," the tall one said.

The woman smiled. "How's that pirate song go? Dead men tell no tales."

"What?" I croaked. "No, look, that's– that's not necessary. I'm not telling any tales. There's nothing to tell."

"That's right," she agreed. She looked up at the tall man and nodded.

"My wallet's right here in my pocket," I offered. "There's not much in it, but you're welcome to it..." I started to reach for my pocket, but that was the wrong move. The gun jumped up an inch. I put my hand in the air again.

"We need to keep this quiet," the short one cautioned, and he bent to grab a broken piece of pipe from the gutter. "Put the gun away."

As soon as the gun was down, I was going to bolt, and the bald guy seemed to know that. He hesitated while the tattooed one started toward me.

Zigzag, that was what Harri had told us once, during a DA meeting. It was hard to hit a moving target, especially one that wasn't moving in a straight line– I imagined the principle was similar for guns as it was spells.

How much would a nonfatal bullet wound hurt? More then a dislocated shoulder or almost being cut in half? Would I be able to keep running through the pain? I hoped so.

The man with the pipe was only a few paces away from me now and I tensed, ready to sprint, but a sudden shrill squeal froze him in place. We all stared up as the noise turned piercing.

Headlights flew around the corner and then barreled right at me. The car was just inches from hitting the tattooed guy before he jumped out of the way. The chain-link rattled when he rammed into it. I turned to run, but the car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door flying open just a few feet from me.