Scars of the past that had made me who I was. I shook my head, dried off, and went out to the main living area, still wrapped in the towel.
The clothing I had was Rosita’s, and while it was fine for a cut and run, we were in the middle of a fight that required a bit more than running shoes and jeans.
I dug around in the one bag. Peter had stripped several of the downed soldiers of their clothes, aiming for those that would be a closer fit to him and Cowboy.
Nothing in my size. I blew out a breath and looked down the hall. My mother’s room was at the end. I made myself walk there, made myself open the door and step into her sanctuary.
The bed was a king-sized mattress in a four-poster Edwardian-style frame that dominated the space. Really, there wasn’t room for much else. I sidled past the bed to the closet and pushed the doors open.
Inside was an array of clothing and a puff of stale air that smelled like my mom, of her favorite perfume. Honeysuckle and clean linen. I slowly pushed through it, looking for something that would work. My mother had been a pet, in essence, a kept woman who lived on the whims of my father. Which meant she had to dress the part.
The feel of leather stopped my hands and I pulled out the piece of clothing. Leather pants?
“Mom, look at you,” I muttered as I untangled them from the hanger.
“What did you find?” Dinah yelled from the kitchen. I went back and scooped her up, paused, and scooped up Diego too. “Wait, why is he coming?”
I put the two guns on the bed next to the leather pants. “Oh, nice! Those are good quality too, no cheap-ass pleather!” Dinah chirped.
I kept on pushing through the clothes, feeling more than looking. My hands stalled on something hard, stiff. I tugged the article out and snorted at the boned bustier. I looked it over. “Dinah, I think this has a spell woven into the fabric.”
“Shit, really? What was your mom up to?”
As if I needed another question with no answer. “No idea.” I dropped the towel and snugged the bustier on while Diego let out a low whistle.
The arrangement of the straps allowed me to put it on without any assistance. As I finished setting up the last buckle on the front, I turned to the bed. “See anything different?”
“Nothing,” Dinah said. “What do you think the spell is for?”
I ran my hands over it, thinking about why Mom would have needed spelled clothing. And why a corset? Of all the impractical pieces of women’s clothing, this was one of the worst. Although, to be fair, this one had molded to me even with the boning in it. I scooped up a pair of undies and slid them on—imperative when wearing leather pants—and then pulled on the pants.
I stood and lifted a leg, settling into an old yoga pose, then slowly moved through a series of tai chi motions that tested the limit of the clothing’s flexibility. Which was stunningly good.
“How do they feel?” Dinah asked.
“Magical,” I muttered, barely holding back a smile. “Like they were made for me.”
“Or your mom.”
I nodded and dropped my hands to the floor in a forward bend. The clothing felt like something I’d wear to the gym to work out in.
“Your tits aren’t falling out,” Diego observed. “That is disappointing.”
Dinah snort-laughed at him. “Like you’d even have a shot of being shoved under her shirt. You’re too big.”
“Yeah, baby, I am too big,” he drawled.
They bickered back and forth about that while I searched the closet for more clothing. The basics were easy, but if there was more of this magic wear shit, I was taking it.
But there was nothing else even close to the magic corset, which was a bit of a downer. I pulled on socks and a pair of ankle boots made for walking. I tried a few more moves, all decked out, and was pleased with the results.
“Good thing your mom was the same build as you,” Dinah observed.
I nodded, scooped up the clothes I’d pulled out, and went back to the living room. There was a mid-sized TV that I clicked on—not with the remote, the batteries were dead, but with the buttons on the side of the TV. I flipped through the channels until I found the one I was looking for.
Channel 9.75.
Yes, the abnormal world had taken to Harry Potter just like the rest of the population, and they liked to use it for their code words and entry points. Killian had told me about this one. Before I’d met him, I’d been considered human, a hunter of the abnormals, and they kept their secrets closer than a granny fighting over the last ball of yarn at a sale.
The channel flickered to life but with nothing but static snow. I left it on with the volume low as I went to work on sorting out the items from bags at my feet. Weapons and ammo into one pile, tactical gear in another, wallets in my lap.
I took the cash out first and set it aside. The credit cards were a no-no, of course, the perfect way to pin us down. I didn’t look at the pictures of their families that they kept.
That was the way down a path of regret that didn’t fly in my line of work.
“Hello.”
The single word came from the TV and my hands stilled.
“Hello,” the voice said again. “Raids on the east side of Queens.”
The TV flicked off on its own. East side of Queens. That was where we were.
“Fuck.”
I scooped up Dinah and Diego, putting Dinah into her holster and keeping Diego in my arms. The fallen cast sleep spells over the
