Kate Daniels 03 - Magic Strikes

me souviens de toi. Petite Tueuse . . .”
    He took a step back, as if the fence between us had grown red-hot, and walked away.
    I looked at Mart. “Hey, Goldilocks. Where’s your tattooed friend? He and I have a date.”
    He just looked at me.
    “You don’t say much, do you?” I pulled Slayer out and ran it between my fingers. He watched the sword.
    The fence was too high. Even if I made a running jump, I still couldn’t leap high enough for a good strike.
    “Scaring the competition?”
    I went six inches into the air and about two feet to my left, away from the voice, and saw Curran standing by the fence.
    Throwing a handful of sand at him would only hammer home the point. I hadn’t heard him move at all. No man of his size should be that quiet, but he snuck around like a ghost. How long he had been standing there was anybody’s guess.
    “Do I scare you or are you just jumpy?”
    I scowled at him. “Perhaps the sound of your voice repulses me. It’s an instinctual response.”
    “And he doesn’t trigger your instincts?”
    Mart smiled.
    “He and I have a rendezvous in the sand. I don’t have to do anything about him till then.”
    Curran scrutinized Mart’s face. “I can’t figure out if he wants to kill you or screw you.”
    “I’ll be glad to make the choice for him.”
    Curran looked back at me. “Why is it you always attract creeps?”
    “You tell me.” Ha! Walked right into that one, yes, he did.
    Mart leapt off the fence and vanished into the Midnight Gate.
    I headed in the opposite direction, to the Gold. Curran stepped up and opened the fence door for me. I halted. That was a bit unexpected. Men didn’t open the door for me.
    “What is it?”
    “I’m trying to decide if it’s a trap.”
    “Get out of there,” he growled.
    “Are you going to pounce on me?”
    “Do you want me to pounce on you?”
    I wisely decided not to ponder that question. The answer could’ve been scary.
    I went through the door. He pushed the door shut and caught up with me.
    “Are we busted? Did you make them pack up and go home?”
    “You’re definitely busted. And no. I’m fighting with you.”
    I stopped and looked at him.
    “With us? In the Pit?”
    “Yes. Not good enough for you? Would you prefer Saiman?”
    Mmm, Beast Lord the God Killer versus the hysterical Frost Giant. Was that even a choice?
    “But what about Andorf and the first law?”
    “What about Andorf?” he asked.
    “Did you really take him down at fifteen years old?” I just blurted it out.
    “Yes.”
    No smart follow-up came to mind. We turned the corner, and I saw Cesare at the end of the hallway.
    I stopped. I wanted Cesare so bad I could taste his blood on my lips. Curran looked at me.
    “He supervised Derek’s beating,” I said softly.
    Curran’s eyes went gold.
    If we went after him now, we’d be disqualified. Oh, but we both wanted to kill him. Very, very much.
    Cesare turned, saw us, and stumbled. For a moment he froze, caught like a deer in the headlights, and then he ducked into a room.
    I turned and went into our quarters. Curran didn’t follow.
    Andrea greeted me with a wave. She sat on a bench, a variety of strange mechanical parts, which no doubt combined into a deadly firearm, spread before her on a white towel. I sat next to her.
    “Where is everybody?”
    “Hiding,” she said. “Except for Doolittle. He was excused from the chewing-out due to having been kidnapped. He’s napping now like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I got to hear all sorts of interesting stuff through the door.”
    “Give.”
    She shot me a sly smile. “First, I got to listen to Jim’s ‘it’s all my fault; I did it all by myself’ speech. Then I got to listen to Derek’s ‘it’s all my fault and I did it all by myself’ speech. Then Curran promised that the next person who wanted to be a martyr would get to be one. Then Raphael made a very growling speech about how he was here for a blood debt. It was his right to have restitution for the injury caused to the friend of the boudas; it was in the damn clan charter on such and such page. And if Curran wanted to have an issue with it, they could take it outside. It was terribly dramatic and ridiculous. I loved it.”
    I could actually picture Curran sitting there, his hand on his forehead above his closed eyes, growling quietly in his throat.
    “Then Dali told him that she was sick and tired of being treated like she was made out of glass and she wanted blood