Discount Armageddon

the future, it wasn’t sharing them with me. “He’s Covenant. Maybe they have some sort of magical tracking device.”

“Or maybe he swiped your registration papers while he was invading the tango competition.” Sarah took another sip of her ketchup, wiping her mouth delicately with the back of her hand. “Either way, it’s not safe for you to go back there.”

“So where am I supposed to go? I can’t go back to Oregon until this whole dragon mess is sorted out.”

Sarah shrugged. “So come stay with me. It’s not like I don’t have the room.”

“That’s a sweet offer, but what about the mice? I couldn’t bring them here. I mean, even if you could convince the staff to ignore me, all it would take is one novice getting too enthusiastic and going on pilgrimage to the kitchen for cake, and then blammo. The hotel would call the Health Department so fast even you wouldn’t be able to stop them.”

“I know, but—”

“Plus, if I vanish, he could just come looking for me.”

“See, that could be amusing.” Sarah grinned a little. “He’ll never find you here. We could watch him and take bets on his progress.”

“You mean we could watch as he tracked down every cryptid he’s encountered since he got here, looking for someone who could tell him where I was. Plus, if he hasn’t told the Covenant about me yet, disappearing completely would be a surefire way to make him do it. He’d be sure I was going for reinforcements.”

“What makes you think he hasn’t told the Covenant about you?” asked Sarah, eyebrows rising. I glanced guiltily down into the recesses of my mug, and she gasped. “You didn’t. Oh, no, you did. You so totally did!”

I looked back up to find her staring fixedly in my direction, eyes bleached a shade or two lighter than their normal arctic blue. I glared. “Hey! What happened to telepathic ethics?”

“Please, like those apply when you did that with a boy from the Covenant? Verity, that’s disgusting!”

“Mmm … no, it wasn’t.” I couldn’t quite prevent myself from smiling at the memory. “God, with a body like that? There was no possible way for it to be disgusting. A terrible idea, sure, but disgusting, no way. You should have seen him, Sarah. I mean, the guy is gorgeous.”

“I did see him, remember? And our standards are a little bit different. You like the dark, brooding, on-the- wrong-side type, and I—”

“Like the geeky, frustrating, you-should-tell-him-already type. Yeah, I know.”

Sarah didn’t blush—her biology doesn’t allow for it—but she did shoot me a mortified look before clearing her throat and saying, “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to sleep with him again, for starters.” No matter how much I wanted to. “First step is going to be swinging by Gingerbread Pudding to let Piyusha know that Dominic’s decided to go off on his own. I’d rather she wasn’t standing in the line of fire if he decides to start small with the cleanup. After that, I should go to the Nest, warn the dragon princesses that there’s somebody—somebody else, I mean, beyond the snake cult that’s making its own little army of happy homicidal lizard-men—somebody else out to hurt the dragon. And then I should go to work.” I heaved a sigh, topping it with another mouthful of cocoa. “Dave isn’t going to give me the night off just because I’m having boy troubles.”

“Poor Verity,” said Sarah, not without sympathy. “No wonder you’re all stressed out. Why don’t you go ahead and take the bedroom? You need to get some rest.”

“What about you?”

“I have homework,” she said, glancing into her mug of ketchup. I glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes past midnight, which made it twenty past nine on the West Coast. Prime Internet chat time, if you happened to be a comic geek like Cousin Artie, or, say, a lonely mathematician like Sarah.

I smothered a smile as I stood, leaving the chenille bedspread and taking the hot cocoa. “Okay. You enjoy your homework, and I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again for letting me stay. I really couldn’t handle another night of listening to the mice party down.”

“Hey, what else is family for?”

“So true.” I waited until I was halfway to the bedroom before calling back, casually, “Say ‘hi’ to Artie for me.”

“I will,” she replied thoughtlessly. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see her wince. “Verity!”

“Good night!” I chirped, and giggled all the way to bed.

* * *

Sarah was gone when I woke up in the morning. She’d left a note on the coffee table, written in her usual semi-comprehensible scrawl:

V—

Had to head for school or miss the start of the lecture session. Don’t like eavesdropping on the thoughts of the other students just because I was too lazy to get to class in time to take my own notes. Order anything you want from room service, it all goes on my bill anyway. Love you lots, and please try not to get yourself killed today. Your parents would never forgive me.

—S.

I rolled up one silk sleeve, scratching at my elbow as I considered her note. Room service sounded good. A hot shower, a chance to fix my hair, and breakfast at Gingerbread Pudding sounded even better. I could talk to Piyusha, give her a little heads-up on the situation, and score some gingerbread to bring home to the mice as a peace offering. They didn’t like it when I stayed out all night. Fortunately, their love was easily bought, and always for sale. And according to the clock, I had a little more than seven hours before I was expected at Dave’s Fish and Strips—enough time to eat a leisurely breakfast, talk to Piyusha, check in with Dad, and change into a clean uniform before I had to go to work.

“No rest for the wicked,” I said, and scribbled a quick “Gone out, thanks again, call you tonight” on the bottom of Sarah’s note before heading for the penthouse bathroom. I might not be willing to take advantage of her room service, but the chance to shower in a full-sized tub? Oh, Hell, yes.

* * *

According to the hours in the window, Gingerbread Pudding was open from seven AM to nine PM every day. According to my watch, it was almost ten. So why were the doors still locked?

Usually, if I encountered a business that was closed during normal operating hours, I would assume they were having a private party or doing inventory or something. That might have been the case at Gingerbread Pudding. I just needed to talk to Piyusha too badly to take that chance. I’d already lost too much time by having a good night’s sleep—even if I was pretty sure sleep was going to be in short supply from here on out. I rapped my knuckles briskly against the café door. No one came to let me in. I waited a few minutes before rapping again, harder this time.

The door creaked slowly open, revealing the narrow, anxious face of a man with a pronounced family resemblance to Piyusha. They had the same dark hair, and his features were practically a masculine version of hers. “Yes?” he asked suspiciously. The door creaked a bit farther open, letting me catch the sweet smell of honey and fresh ginger wafting from his skin. He gave me a quick up-and-down glance, assessing my jeans (designer) and burgundy halter top (silk, shamelessly “borrowed” from Sarah’s closet) before reaching a decision, and saying, “I’m sorry. We’re closed.”

“Hi,” I said, offering him the sweetest smile I could muster. “You must be one of Piyusha’s brothers. I’m Verity. I realize you’re probably busy, but this will only take a few minutes, and I really need to talk to her. Is there any way you could get her for me?”

The man’s expression froze. “Verity Price?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Piyusha may have mentioned that I dropped by—?”

“Yes, she did,” he said, expression still not wavering. Opening the door fully, he stepped to one side and asked, “Won’t you come inside?”

“Thanks.” I stepped into the darkened café, flashing him another smile as I went. He didn’t return it.

As soon as I was past the threshold an arm reached out from the space behind the door, locking itself around my neck and hauling me backward. It was surprising enough that I didn’t fight immediately. I felt myself pressed