XI
641 Words
XI
The car followed Miri for two blocks. She clutched her purse closer and tried to think of what to do.
The Half Eight wasn’t known for crime, but it was known for its grit. Humans and elves both lived here, and so did the children that their marriages begat. The result was a diverse cultural district that was misunderstood by many who lived outside it. But crime did happen, especially given that it was an election year, and a lot of residents in the district were unhappy about the magic shortage.
Miri used a sideview mirror of a nearby parked car to check if the car was still behind her.
It was.
Its headlights reflected off the greasy puddles on the street.
Dark red and gray clouds moved over the city and threatened a storm. The skyscrapers were rain-slicked, holding the last light of dusk mixed with moonlight. The view was breathtaking, but she scolded herself for being so romantic when her life was in danger. But then again, she wondered if it would be the last beautiful sunset she’d ever see.
She quickened her pace.
Aside from pissing the governor off, she didn’t have enemies, at least none that wanted to do her harm. She was pretty, and her reputation was well-known.
She didn’t have anyone she could call. Not this late. That was the downside to being a workaholic introvert. Her mother always said she’d die alone—Miri prayed it wasn’t going to happen tonight.
I have to make it seem like I’m talking to someone.
She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial. Then she placed it to her ear.
She spoke as convincingly as she could.
“Dean Rosehill, what an unexpected pleasure.”
She imagined the dragon speaking back.
They’re coming for you, my dear.
“Don’t be silly. Of course I have time.”
First they’re going to take your job.
“I am in the Half Eight,” she said loudly.
Still, the car tires crunched forward.
Next will be your dignity. You stand for nothing. You are irrelevant.
“This is relevant because I’ve been researching that very thing!”
They will rip you apart, just like they did your degree.
“Is there any chance I can get that back?”
No. We don’t award our prestigious degrees to little girls who cannot hold their tongues. Goodbye, Miss Charmwell. And rest in peace.
She couldn’t think of anything to say. The damned dragon had hung up on her, and she was only pretending to speak to him!
Meanwhile, the car had picked up speed.
She turned, and the headlights washed across her face.
Oh, no…
A man in a black cap was driving. He had a stone-faced expression, and his eyes followed her.
She reached into her purse and gripped a canister of magicked pepper spray. It was enhanced with a grimoire that created a cloud that hung over the head for hours, giving the authorities more time to hunt down the criminal. The grimoire would reveal a signature in the presence of the police that matched the one-of-a-kind pentagram on the bottle.
If he springs, don’t miss, Miri. Don’t miss.
The canister slid across her sweating palm. Her finger trembled on the trigger of the spray; she struggled to grip it.
The car pulled up alongside her.
One of the rear windows rolled down; it sounded like an airplane in a nosedive. A figure sat in the back, submerged in shadow.
Miri aimed the can of pepper spray at the car.
“Stop!” she cried.
The car screeched to a stop and the driver rolled down his window, aiming a gun at her.
“Drop your weapon,” the man said.
“Drop your weapon!” Miri said. “You don’t think I saw you following me for the last few blocks? I’ll scream and I won’t go lightly.”
“You’re not in any danger, Miss,” the driver said. He stepped out of the car and tucked the gun into his holster.
A voice from the shadows of the car spoke. “No, you’re not.”
Lucan Grimoire leaned out the window.
“You’re not in any danger at all,” he said.
- Writer
