Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance (39 page)

I pulled all of my frustration to the surface, haphazardly demolishing the fragile barriers around my curse. Planting a hand on the closed panel door of the van, I imagined my curse reaching out for fuel for my gift, sucking in electricity through my palm.

“I was expecting Agent Coutu,” I said. “But maybe you could help me—”

“Ma’am, we’re not supposed to be talking to you,” the blond agent said. The leopard print on his pants rippled like a cat stretching.

“I know, but I was hoping you might have heard something. I don’t feel safe—”

“We didn’t hear anything, Ms. Parker. Dane, close the door,” the Cuban agent said.

“You’ll let me know when you do?” I stuck my torso into the door so Dane couldn’t comply with his partner’s order. My hand began to patter with an invisible tic, but it wasn’t actually moving. Inside the van, the drum set exploded to full size and a chorus of howling dogs circled the older agent, making me thankful my apparitions didn’t include sound. Dane’s leopard-print pants morphed into leopard legs, transforming him into a predator faun. A gold crown circled his head, and then a pen stabbed through his hand. I jerked at the violent divination.

“I’m sure someone will contact you,” Dane said.

“Uh. Thanks.” I backed away from the van. Between the ethereal tapping in my hand and the troubling divinations, I decided retreat was the best option. Dane’s partner launched over him and slammed the van’s door. I listened to the muffled cussing inside while I stared at my hand. It looked normal. Had the tic somehow been, illogically, connected to my curse?

Dempsey sidled into view.

“Damn, girl! And here I thought you were a pushover,” she hissed.

“What are you talking about?”

“The way you thumbed it to the man. Acting like nothing was going on. Classic.”

I crossed the street with a strut in my step, and Hudson met us at the walkway to his house.

“What was that all about?”

“Just thanking them for their protection.”

Hudson shook his head. A shark cruised around the brim of his sombrero, then submerged into air. “Come on, I might have something.”

Hudson and I hitched a ride with Matvei to Hudson’s car, and Dempsey followed in her truck. The van pulled out behind her, but it didn’t make it three blocks before it stalled. I sat back in my seat and grinned. Before the ninjas had kidnapped us and my curse had broken down the van, I’d never thought I’d appreciate my gift’s side effect. Apparently I’d been leading the wrong lifestyle to make use of it. My curse was far more suited for the life of crime. A block later I realized my brilliant plan had just cut us off from the very people capable of saving us if we actually found the ninjas, and my stomach cramped.

“What did you find out?” I asked once Hudson and I were alone in his car. “And how is it something the FBI won’t know?”

“I had a coworker run the ninja van’s plates after we were kidnapped, and I asked her to watch traffic cams for the vehicle. I never got a chance to check in with her yesterday.”

I nodded, residual anxiety fluttering through my heart. I pushed it back down. We’d rescued Sofie, and she was safe. If we hadn’t . . . No, I wouldn’t even think about it.

“But this morning talking with Miriam made me realize the FBI are looking for the ninjas, Jenny, and the van. We know we’re also looking for Kyoko—somewhere to hide her and something to feed her. That call was me asking my coworker to cross-check feed stores with traffic cams, looking for the van. Fortunately, there aren’t a lot of stores catering to livestock owners in this city. My coworker found a cluster of hits in Mar Vista in the last three days, all within four miles of each other. I thought we’d swing by and check out the neighborhood.” He grinned at me, clearly pleased with his deductions.

“I’m impressed. But how was your coworker able to get all that information?”

“I told you, security installation is only part of what EliteGuard does. We handle more complicated projects that require more sophisticated tracking information.”

“That’s a little scary.”

Hudson shrugged.

I checked my side-view mirror as we rounded the next corner and wasn’t the least bit surprised when a white car that was four vehicles behind us made the turn as well. Miriam. “Pull over at the next Starbucks,” I said.

“We don’t have time for a coffee break.”

“This is important.”

Four blocks later, Hudson pulled into the lot of a Starbucks. Dempsey followed. I bounced from the car and into the coffeehouse before either of them got their seat belts off. There wasn’t a line, and I exited two minutes later with a peach Italian soda and three slices of coffee cake. Miriam idled by the curb two blocks back.

“Everyone gets one,” I said to Hudson, thrusting the paper bags of coffee cake at him. Then I jogged down the street to Miriam’s car.

She watched me approach, frowning. I opened the passenger door and slid in next to her, leaving the door cracked.

“What are you doing?” Miriam asked.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I’m making sure you don’t do anything you might regret.”

“I don’t remember asking you to watch over me.” I knew exactly what Miriam was doing. Miriam didn’t believe I was backing off the hunt for Jenny. With good reason, but that didn’t stop me from getting angry. Anger was an easy emotion these days. It simmered just beneath the surface, and it leapt eagerly to the forefront when I tugged it. I considered using the hand visualization again, but the strange spasming in my hand with the FBI van had unnerved me, so I settled for using my emotions to topple my usual mental barriers.
Curse, do your thing.

“I’m trying to spend the first normal day with my boyfriend. Alone,” I said.

“Alone? What’s Dempsey doing here, then?”

I glanced back to the parking lot. Dempsey had gotten out of her truck and was standing beside Hudson’s window. She was openly staring, and I suspected Hudson was watching in a mirror, too.

“We’re trying to ditch her, too.”

“Really.” I didn’t need to see the malamute puppy in the rumpled suit and tie squirming between us to read the suspicion radiating from Miriam. “I still haven’t figured out how she’s involved in all this.”

“She’s a friend of Jenny’s. She thinks we can help her save Jenny, but I told her what you told me, and then I told her we were done. She’s not buying it.”

“Neither am I.”

“That’s your problem, then,” I said. Blood rushed oddly soundlessly in my eardrums, accompanied by vague dizziness. Between the van and Miriam’s car, I’d never intentionally drawn in so much electricity over such a short period of time, and the side effect was unexpected and freeing: More systematically than downing a series of tequila shots, the raw energy toppled my inhibitions, taking my usual deference to authority right along with my caution. So Hudson and I might not have the
best
plan, but we had
a
plan, and we were going to pursue it and save Jenny and Kyoko—ninjas, FBI, and Miriam be damned.

“You’re going to have a very frustrating day, Miriam, because I don’t want you to tag along with Hudson and me on our date,” I said, sticking to my lie without remorse. “I appreciate what you’ve done for us, but I don’t appreciate you interfering in my love life.”

“I’m not doing anything for you that I wouldn’t do for Ari and Antonio or any of the others.”

“I know. So knock it off. I don’t need a big sister right now; I need privacy with my hunk. The one who met the whole crazy da Via family and still wanted to hang out with me today.”

Miriam narrowed her eyes and scrutinized my face.

I softened my expression and voice, honesty falling seamlessly behind the lie. “Okay, that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry, Miriam. I’ve been really stressed the last few days, and spending a normal day with Hudson doing normal things sounds like heaven. And I don’t want an audience.”

Finally, Miriam smiled. The puppy curled up and put its head on its paws. “Fine. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” We hugged awkwardly, across the console—and through the puppy; then I slid out of the car. I smiled when I saw her phone on the dash, knowing it couldn’t have survived, then tossed Miriam a wave and sauntered back to Hudson.

Of course, I knew changing Miriam’s mind wouldn’t be as simple as a conversation. When we pulled out of the parking lot, she followed. Her car made it two blocks before I saw her coast into a parking lot, a cloud of exhaust billowing around it. Hudson watched Miriam’s car in the rearview mirror, and a Great Dane–size Scottish terrier popped into existence on his lap.

“Looks like Miriam bought my story,” I said. “She must be getting breakfast. There’s a really good donut shop in that center.”

Hudson and the dog swiveled to look at me. I turned my attention to my slice of coffee cake and attempted to meditate on the delicious flavor.

Back at the house, looking for Jenny and her three
murderous
abductors
had given me reservations. Now it seemed like a smart decision, the
only
course of action that made sense. I knew my logic was flawed by my curious lack of inhibitions, but Hudson and Dempsey weren’t protesting, so I savored the brown sugar melting on my tongue and said nothing.

We drove through the Mar Vista neighborhoods where the van had been spotted, scanning cross streets and driveways with the windows down to listen for Kyoko’s bugle. The longer we drove without signs of a miniature elephant, Jenny, or the ninjas, the harder it was to pretend our search was anything other than a futile attempt to make ourselves believe we were doing something productive. When Hudson’s car shivered, played a discordant, clacking dirge, and died in the middle of the street, I tried not to take it as the universe telling us to give up.

“What the hell!” Hudson slammed his palm into the steering wheel.

“I’ll push,” I said, grateful we were on a residential street, and the traffic was light. I hopped out before Hudson could protest. I was familiar with pushing cars; it was a task I’d learned to do when I was sixteen, ironically enough. That was when I’d gained enough weight and muscle to actually be useful when leaning against the bumper of a car.

Hudson shoved out of his seat and pushed against the door frame to get the car rolling. Together we guided it to the curb. Dempsey pulled in behind the car and parked. Fire-hydrant tall skyscrapers dotted the hood of her truck. I blinked at the new divination. The red crest of hair and the beaded breastplate I got: Those were Dempsey’s warrior outfits. Miniature skyscrapers made zero sense.

I retrieved my bag from the passenger seat and locked my door.

“This is ridiculous, you know,” Hudson said, glaring at me over the roof of his car. “Cars don’t just break down like this. Not this often. Especially not when nothing’s wrong with them. But you never seem fazed by it. It’s like you expect them to break down.”

“What should I do? Cuss and rant and rave?”

“I’ve got that covered. But why don’t you ever seem surprised?”

“Let’s see. I was handcuffed by strangers three days in a row; I’ve played with a miniature elephant in my aunt’s backyard; I’m helping a mad scientist who invented a formula that could destroy mankind; and I’m currently attempting to outmaneuver the FBI so I can have first crack at homicidal ninjas. I’m beyond surprise at this point. Come on.”

Hudson looked like he would protest, but I didn’t wait to hear it.

“Hang on. No admittance unless you promise not to do that voodoo on me,” Dempsey said.

“Voodoo?” I echoed.

“I saw what you did. That FBI van, Miriam’s car. You put a voodoo curse on their vehicles. That’s why they broke down.”

“Why would I curse Hudson’s car?”

“I’m still working on that one.”

“While you do that, we’re wasting daylight,” Hudson said. “Trust me; it’s the elephantini, not Eva.”

I climbed into the middle of the bench seat, my knees tucked to my chest, and didn’t make eye contact. Hudson squeezed in beside me and twisted to give himself more legroom.

“Attila’s got her eyes on you,” Dempsey warned, “and she never blinks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

We drove for another twenty minutes in tense silence, widening our search. I ping-ponged between fretting over the length of time I’d been in the truck and attempting to suppress my emotions, pretending our search was an idle game.

Dempsey pulled out onto a cramped, six-lane boulevard and gunned the truck up to speed in the late morning traffic. A long string of homes and strip malls stretched in both directions, broken occasionally by a big-box center. We’d systematically woven across this boulevard four times so far in our search.

“There!” Hudson shouted. He pointed across the street, where a black van turned into a large shopping center.

“On it!” Dempsey yanked the wheel, cutting almost perpendicular through three lanes of traffic. Horns blasted and cars swerved around us, and more than one driver threw us a rude gesture. Dempsey passed up the line of cars waiting at the light to turn left, barreled into the middle of the intersection, then cut the wheel. The truck lurched toward oncoming traffic.