stood in the foyer waiting to be seated and I hunkered back, certain that everyone was staring. As the waitress led us to our table, I stared at the ground, focusing on the toes of my shoes rather than the questioning eyes I felt boring into me. I slid in the booth and looked around nervously.
“You’re paranoid,” Alex said.
“I am not.” I bit my thumbnail. “But everyone was looking at us, right? They were staring?”
“No more than usual, Lawson.”
Another waitress came by with a carafe and filled up our coffee mugs, handing us two laminated menus. We scanned our menus and she took our order—two burgers, two fries. I watched her disappear behind the counter while Alex studied me.
“You’re completely paranoid,” he said finally.
“Okay, if I am—which I am not—don’t I have the right to be?” I tried to keep my voice hissing and low, but I could feel my voice rising. “I am the Vessel, Alex. Everyone wants me!”
The diner patrons had the uncanny ability to drop into silence at the most inopportune of moments—like this one. All heads swung toward me, appraising. The waitress strolled back over and gave me an uninterested once- over, then sloshed coffee into Alex’s mug, ignoring my own.
I hunched lower in the booth and began to whisper, spitting dirty looks at Alex, who sugared and stirred his coffee with that stupid smug grin on his face.
“I mean, everyone wants the Vessel. And it seems that a whole lot of people are onto my little secret. So excuse me if I’m just a little jumpy.”
We were silent while the waitress slid our plates in front of us. I examined my sandwich like a crime scene investigator examines a crime scene—I checked the bread, both top and bottom, poked at all the fries, tore the burger in pieces. I waited for Alex to take a bite of his burger. He did, chewed quietly. No maggots. I took a tentative bite of my lunch. Once I felt my teeth sink into the moist meat—no squishing of maggots or crunching of rat bones—I chewed happily, licking the caramelized-onion grease as it spilled over my fingers. “This is the best lunch ever,” I said with a mouthful.
Alex sat forward, his voice low. “The number of people who know about the Vessel of Souls—let alone are searching for it—is miniscule.”
I swallowed my bite. “Fabulous! So only a
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to operate like there are snipers on every corner. I’m here.”
“For now,” I said, staring at my plate.
“And besides,” Alex continued, ignoring me, “you have your stun gun.”
I thought of the weapon in its hard plastic case, nine blocks away, casually thrown in the locker of a discount clothing chain.
“Right,” I agreed.
Alex picked up a French fry and popped it in his mouth. “How’s that working out for you, anyway?”
“Excellent. I electrocuted three people on my way to work this morning and then I used it to warm up my morning coffee.”
The waitress stopped in front of our table, thought better of it, and kept walking. I gaped and Alex grinned, pointing at me with a fry.
“People might not like you, but they’re not trying to kill you.”
“Be honest. You stole that from a Hallmark card, didn’t you?”
I was in a groove rhythmically folding a stack of 2XL peach terry sweatpants at the store when I felt eyes on me. I turned slowly, and Avery was behind me, her made-up eyes focused hard, the little silver hoop in her pierced eyebrow raised and angled.
“Can I help you?” I asked her.
She snapped her green-apple gum. “You’ve got a dark aura right now. Like danger, evil.”
I looked down at the pair of sweatpants I was folding and held them out. “I think you’re catching the aura of the pants.”
Avery wagged her head. “I know you don’t believe in this, but there definitely is something about you that attracts evil.”
The bells above the front door tinkled and we both turned to look as a handful of scruffy-looking teenagers loped in. They nonchalantly poked around the racks of one-off brand-name jeans and lounge pants. Their collectively unkempt hair was scraggly and served to disguise their faces as they pretended to study the merchandise, but instead kept eyeing Avery and me.
“Look at them,” I said in a low voice. “They look like they’re up to something.”
Avery blew a bright green bubble and then sucked it back in and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Hooligans,” she said, wagging her head so that her royal-blue dreadlocks swung. “They just ooze misdemeanor.”
I scanned the racks of merchandise, eyeing the sea of sailor pants, capris, and walking shorts in an array of barf-worthy colors. “I can’t see what anyone would want to steal from this place,” I muttered.
Avery shrugged. “Not my problem. Everything has security tags on ’em anyway.”
The bells tinkled again and I felt my mouth form an O, then a huge grin. “Lorraine! Kale!” I said, racing through a rack of acid-washed shortalls. Lorraine pressed her hands to her face in that Miss America-winning-the- crown way and Kale stood back, smiling.
Lorraine broke into a smile as she rushed toward me. We all exchanged hugs and then I stood back, appraising. I looked at Lorraine’s earth-dyed crinkle skirt and at Kale’s upscale business slacks. There was no way they were People’s Pants shoppers out for a casual lunch-hour spree.
“Kale, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of the UDA.”
“Oh, I get out. I’ve even been to your house.” Kale, who looked adult in her business trousers, blushed a heavy pink and she looked like the teenager she was again, shadowing Lorraine for her witch’s license. “I was hoping Vlad would be there.”
I nodded, still smiling. “What are you guys doing here?”
Lorraine looked at my smock, at my trainee name tag, and a flash of sadness marred her lovely features. “This is where you’re working now?”
I flushed with embarrassment. “It’s just temporary, I hope. Not even Nina knows I’m here though—how did you two?”
Lorraine slung her arm around Kale proudly. Kale grinned. “My first locator spell was a success,” Kale said.
“Congrats. But, why were you looking for me?”
Lorraine frowned. “Because we miss you.”
“And because the UDA is going to Hell in a hand basket,” Kale supplied.
“It’s nothing like it was when you and Sampson ran it.”
I leaned against the acid-washed jeans. “Aw, thank you. But I didn’t really run the UDA and Sampson has been gone for a long time.” It still stung every time I said it. “I’m sure Dixon and his guys are doing a good job.”
Lorraine snorted. “Are you kidding? They’ve got Los handling transfer records now.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Los? The goat boy? We’re overloaded with demons because so far, Los has eaten sixteen files.”
“Sixteen?”
I heard a snicker from the group of hooligans who came in earlier. I looked over my shoulder at Avery, who had been watching us and then busied herself folding pink corduroy pants, effectively ignoring her customers.
“Excuse me, guys,” I said, putting my hand on Lorraine’s arm.
I headed over to the gang and pasted on a smile. “Welcome to People’s Pants. May I help you find something?”
One of the boys—who seemed to be the leader of the group—stepped forward. He towered over me by at least two feet and as I scanned the group I realized that they were all unnaturally tall. Which wasn’t completely unusual, given that I am unnaturally short. They all seemed to share the same carved features, too—upturned
