Industrial Magic - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,5

I looked for Bibles or encyclopedias, but they were empty-handed. One stared up at the building, perhaps expecting it to morph into corporate headquarters.

I fished my keys from my pocket. As I glanced up, two girls walked past the men. I wondered why they weren’t in school—dumb question in this neighborhood, but I was still adjusting—then realized the “girls” were at least forty. My mistake arose from the size differential. The two men towered a foot above the women.

Both men had short, dark hair and clean-shaven, chiseled faces. Both wore Ray-Bans. Both were roughly the size of redwoods. If there hadn’t been a one-inch height difference between them, I’d have sworn they were identical twins. Other than that, my only way of distinguishing them was by tie color. One had a dark red tie, the other jade green.

As I drew closer, both men turned my way.

“Paige Winterbourne?” Red Tie said.

I slowed and mentally readied a spell.

“We’re looking for Lucas Cortez,” Green Tie said. “His father sent us.”

My heart thumped double-time, and I blinked to cover my surprise.

“Fath—?” I said. “Benicio?”

“That’d be the one,” Red Tie said.

I pasted on a smile. “I’m sorry, but Lucas is in court today.”

“Then Mr. Cortez would like to speak to you.”

He half turned, directing my gaze to a king-size black SUV idling just around the corner, in the no-stopping zone. So these two weren’t just messengers; they were Benicio’s personal half-demon bodyguards.

“Benicio wants to talk to me?” I said. “I’m honored. Tell him to come on up. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Red Tie’s mouth twisted. “He’s not going up. You’re going over there.”

“Really? Wow, you must be one of those psychic half-demons. Never met one of those.”

“Mr. Cortez wants you—”

I put up a hand to cut him off. My hand barely reached the height of his navel. Kind of scary if you thought about it. Luckily, I didn’t.

“Here’s how it works,” I said. “Benicio wants to speak to me? Fine, but since I didn’t request this audience, he’s coming to me.”

Green Tie’s eyebrows lifted above his shades.

“That’s not—” Red Tie began.

“You’re messengers. I’ve given the message. Now deliver.”

When neither moved, I cast under my breath and waved my fingers at them.

“You heard me. Shoo.”

As my fingers flicked, they stumbled back. Green Tie’s eyebrows arched higher. Red Tie recovered his balance and glowered, as if he’d like to launch a fireball at me, or whatever his demonic specialty might be. Before he could act, Green Tie caught his gaze and jerked his chin toward the car. Red Tie settled for a glare, then stomped off.

I reached for the door handle. As the door swung open, a hand appeared over my head and grabbed it. I looked up to see the green-tie-wearing bodyguard. I expected him to hold the door shut, so I couldn’t escape, but instead he pulled it open and held it for me. I walked through. He followed.

At this point, any sane woman would have run for her life. At the very least, she would have turned around and walked back out onto the street, a public place. But I was bored and such boredom has a detrimental effect on my sanity.

I unlocked the inner door. This time, I held it open for him. We walked to the elevator in silence.

“Going up?” I asked.

He pushed the button. As the elevator gears squealed, my resolve faltered. I was about to get into a small, enclosed place with a half-demon literally twice my size. I’d seen too many movies not to know how this could turn out.

Yet what were my options? If I ran, I’d be exactly what they expected: a timid witch-mouse. Nothing I did in the future would ever erase that. On the other hand, I could step on the elevator and never step off. Death or dishonor? For some people, there’s really no choice.

When the elevator doors opened, I walked on.

The half-demon followed. As the doors closed, he took off his sunglasses. His eyes were a blue so cold they made the hairs on my arms rise. He pressed the Stop button. The elevator groaned to a halt.

“You ever seen this scene in a movie?” he asked.

I looked around. “Now that you mention it, I think I have.”

“Know what happens next?”

I nodded. “The hulking bad guy attacks the defenseless young heroine, who suddenly reveals heretofore unimagined powers, which she uses to not only fend off his attack but beat him to a bloody pulp. Then she escapes”—I craned my head back—“out that handy

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