Sometime after dusk, the blonde girl appeared at Cat’s door, a plate with a sandwich on it in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “I’m Celeste,” she said as she set the food down on the nightstand next to the bed. “Don’t try anything.”
“Or what?” Cat returned, eyeing the other woman. Celeste was several inches shorter, and very slender. Cat figured she could take her in a fight, if it came down to that.
“Or this,” Celeste said. She raised a hand and made a pushing motion, and the next thing Cat knew, she was flying backward a good three or four feet before landing on her ass — luckily on the big faded Aubusson rug, and not the hardwood floor.
Damn it. That had hurt, but not enough to cause any permanent damage. Holding back a wince, Cat pushed herself upright. “Handy talent.”
T
