“Introduce themselves to a small group, hope that the response is positive?” I said.
“Pretty much,” Beezle said. “There are anecdotal tales of wolves and fae coming out to their workplaces or their sports teams, things like that.”
“And?” I asked.
“Most responses have been positive,” Beezle said.
“Most?”
“There are bigots everywhere,” Beezle said sadly. “And they like to kill what they don’t understand.”
“So you think I should continue to hide my wings,” I said.
“For now,” Beezle said.
I stopped on the sidewalk next to the Art of Pizza’s plaza. There was a rock music school next door, and a tiny parking lot. The restaurant was bright and bustling. Large glass windows fronted the building. I could see people picking up take-out orders, others gathered in groups in the informal seating area. Delivery drivers rushed in and out.
“Beezle,” I said. “If I’m a folk hero, won’t people recognize me?”
“Nah,” Beezle said. “You had really short hair in the first picture that Therion showed on the vampire broadcast.”
“People are going to be fooled by the length of my hair?” I asked.
“You were also covered in blood,” Beezle pointed out. “And you were wearing that stupid coat.”
“That stupid coat keeps me warm,” I said. “Or it did. It got burned up, along with the rest of my stuff. What about the video of me destroying the vampires? I had long hair then, and no blood on me.”
“But you have wings in that video,” Beezle said. “And they are covered up now. So people might
“I don’t think it will be anything like an Angelina Jolie sighting,” I muttered, but I crossed the parking lot and entered the restaurant anyway. I couldn’t hide out from the world, and anyway I had nowhere
I’d thought I’d just slide up to the counter, order a couple of slices to go and get out, like a regular person. But I’d forgotten that I had Beezle on my shoulder. All it took was one person noticing my gargoyle. A murmur rose in the restaurant as men and women pointed at him. My cheeks reddened as I stepped up to the counter.
“One thin-crust mushroom and a sausage deep-dish to go,” I said to the short Latino guy working behind the counter.
I have to give the guy credit. He didn’t even blink. Or maybe he was just so focused on getting through the order and to the next person that the presence of Beezle on my shoulder didn’t really register.
It took only about a minute for him to get my slices and ring up the order, but it felt like an eternity. I could feel the stares of the curious burning into my back. Beezle seemed unaffected by the whole thing, adopting the attitude of a celebrity who knows he’s been identified but wants to pretend otherwise.
I collected my change and the container holding the pizza and headed for the door. I pretended I had tunnel vision and focused only on the exit. Almost there. Almost . . .
A young man a few inches taller than me wearing a Muse T-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans slid in front of me just as I was about to push the door open. His blue eyes were alight with excitement.
“Hey,” he said loudly. “Aren’t you Madeline Black?”
11
I DUCKED MY HEAD AND TRIED TO STEP AROUND HIM. “No, sorry; you must have mistaken me for someone else,” I mumbled.
He put his fingers on my shoulder to stop me. “No, I think you are,” he insisted.
My temper flared when he put his hand on me. I know he didn’t mean me any harm, and even if he did, it would be nothing for me to squash him like a bug. But nobody pushed me around. Not even an insignificant human.
I let my power surge up, so that my eyes would change. Then I lifted my head so he could see it.
“Get your mitts off me and get out of my way,” I said in a low voice.
“Whoa, check out your eyes,” the guy said.
“He doesn’t have enough brains for self-preservation,” Beezle said to me. “You ought to blast him just on principle.”
“I thought we were against harming the innocent?” I said under my breath.
“Some people are too stupid to live,” Beezle said.
I looked up at the guy in my way, who was staring at me like he was hypnotized. “Move now or forever hold your peace.”
“Jack, move,” another guy hissed. He was seated at the counter that ran along the front window, overlooking the parking lot. The counter seating was right next to the front door.
Jack stepped out of the way, finally. I pushed open the door and went into the lot.
“See if he’s following me,” I said to Beezle.
Beezle twisted on my shoulder. “His friend is arguing with him. Jack’s collecting up his stuff to run after you.”
“We’re going under a veil,” I said. “Stay still.”
I pulled the veil over us just as Jack and his friend emerged into the parking lot. They both stood there blinking.
“Did you see . . . ?” Jack asked.
“No,” his friend said firmly. He grabbed his buddy’s shoulder and steered him back inside. Jack looked back several times, obviously hoping to see me.
“No one was going to recognize me, huh?” I said. I walked back toward the six-way intersection to find a bench to sit on while we ate.
“How was I to know that Jack Dabrowski would be in Art of Pizza at that very moment?” Beezle complained.
“Wait—you knew who that guy was?” I said.
“Of course I did,” Beezle said. “He’s got a blog that collects all the supernatural sightings in Chicago. He’s been doing it since before the vampire invasion. Once upon a time he was considered a crackpot who saw ghosts.”
“And now he’s a viewed as a high priest, right? All the people who made fun of him know he was correct, that there really are things that go bump in the night.”
“He’s the reigning authority on anything out of the ordinary,” Beezle said. “And he’s been a very vocal advocate of yours.”
“I guess he wasn’t aware that I was supposed to be dead.”
“Oh, he knew. He just didn’t believe it,” Beezle said.
“Why? All the evidence indicated such. He didn’t have a personal relationship with me. Why would he think I wasn’t dead, and more importantly, why would he care?”
“He wants you to take a leadership role in Chicago. Something high profile, like mayor.”
I stared at Beezle. “Did you investigate him to see if he was an agent of Lucifer?”
“He’s not,” Beezle said. “He just really, really thinks that you should use your powers for good. Be the human face of the supernatural world. People already like you. They already think you’re a hero because you wiped out the vampires. He might have a point.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I said firmly. “I am not running for public office, or turning into some kind of mouthpiece for supernaturals. I might as well walk around wearing a T-shirt with a target painted on the front and back. All I’d be doing is making it easier for one of Titania’s men to assassinate me while I stood on a platform at a press conference.”
“That’s true,” Beezle admitted. “Dabrowski isn’t exactly in full possession of the facts. He just thinks you did
