Kate Daniels 01 - Magic Bites

would suffice.
    It was almost 11:00 p.m. when I made it to Andriano’s. Bono rarely showed up before dark and I had used the time to hop the leyline back to my place and bring back Betsi, my beat-up old Subaru. It looked like I would be stuck in the city for a while. Since the magic would fall, the way it always did, I’d eventually need a car that worked during tech.
    It cost me fifty bucks to have Betsi towed to Greg’s place. I was in the wrong business.
    I entered Andriano’s. The bar stretched the length of the room, guarded by a row of tall stools. A couple of patrons stared into their drinks on the far end. A blonde with her war paint on sipped something fruity from a margarita glass. Through the arched doorway I could see the second room, crowded with red privacy booths, which Andriano must have pilfered from some fast food joint.
    The barkeep, long of limb and dark-haired, nodded at me. Lean and phlegmatic, with a narrow, intelligent face, he looked more like a campus intellectual than a bartender. His name was Sergio and he knew how big of a lime slice to put into a Corona, which made him a worthwhile man to know. I passed him two twenties. Sergio bent an eyebrow at me.
    “What for?”
    “In case anything gets broken. Bono and I are going to chat a bit. Is he here?”
    Sergio nodded toward the room with booths and shrugged, palming the twenties. “Stay away from the windows,” he said. “Too expensive for you.”
    The back room was dimly lit with feylanterns. Bono preferred a corner booth, the farthest from the door. I stood for a moment, surveying the scene, and caught sight of his spiky black hair. I marched toward the booth with flags out and guns ready.
    Bono had company. Judging by the mystical “hey-baby-I’m-a-student-of-magic” smile that stretched his lips, he had female company. No matter.
    He paused his wooing to glance around the room and noticed me. He must have seen something he did not like, because the smile slid off his face. He sat straighter.
    I reached back. My fingers grasped Slayer’s hilt and withdrew it in a smooth fluid motion. Bono’s hand dropped under the table, groping for a gun. He carried a 9mm Colt in his jacket pocket.
    I crashed to a halt before the booth. A thin redhead in a strapless short dress sat opposite Bono. I put my saber on the table. Bono “stank” of vampires and the saber fluoresced weakly, a sliver of moonlight against the dark wood. The redhead’s eyes went wide. Bono’s face relaxed a bit but his gaze never left mine.
    “Hey, Bono,” I said. “Nice to see you. Fuck any corpses lately?”
    The last hope for a relaxing evening bled from his face. “Not any you’d care about.”
    The redhead scrambled out of the booth and fled, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. Bono threw a wistful look after her retreating backside and turned to me.
    “You scared her. Not nice, Kate.”
    I raised an eyebrow at him and slid in the seat vacated by the redhead.
    “Did you read the article I gave you?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “You should read it, Kate. You should read about the upiri.”
    I traced Slayer’s blade with my finger. It stung a little as the magic discharge touched my skin.
    “I want to know about the diviner’s death. I want to know why one of Ghastek’s bloodsuckers was at the scene. I want to know who was piloting it and what they saw. I want to know what tore his head off. And whatever else you’ll find necessary to add.”
    Bono showed me his teeth. “Feeling a bit on edge today, are you?”
    My hand closed about the hilt. “You have no idea.”
    He leaned back. “Go ahead,” he said. “Make a play. I’ll ass-fuck you with that saber.”
    I grinned at him. “You can’t take me, Bono. Go ahead and try. You telegraph your punches, you drop your left shoulder, and your gun isn’t worth piss with magic up. So come on. Show me what you’ve got.”
    I saw his eyes and knew my grin had turned into a hungry grimace. “I really need to hurt something. It’ll make me feel good.” I was almost laughing, having a hard time containing myself. “Give me a reason. Come on, Bono. Just give me a fucking reason.”
    Magic built around me, drawn from the environment by the emanations from my blood. If magic had color, I would be sitting in a whirlpool of red. Slayer flared bright silver, feeding off my anger. It wanted to slice into warm flesh and I was about to let it.
    Bono blinked. He sensed the magic influx and sucked the air