War of Hearts(2)

The young man yelled something down the street to her and although Thea only understood a little Hungarian, she’d heard her boss use a certain word enough to know the homeless guy had just told her to do something pretty nasty to herself. Thea curled her lip in a mixture of guilt and irritation.

Shrugging it off, she pushed open the door to the late-night convenience store and ignored the look of rebuke the owner gave her. He was an older Hungarian man. Thea put him in his late sixties and again she couldn’t understand the actual words, but every time she came into his shop in the middle of the night, he forced her to endure a lecture she technically didn’t understand.

But she understood him all right.

He did not like a young woman wandering the streets alone at night.

Thea appreciated his concern. However, he had nothing to worry about. Still, she liked the old guy. Few strangers gave a shit what other strangers got up to, especially beyond spending money in their establishment. She gave him a nod, trying to hide her small smile at the fatherly glower he sent her way, and wandered deeper into the store. Thea liked the occasional glass of wine on nights she couldn’t sleep, and the shop sold a red she could kind of just about afford. Plus, there were these European potato chips that were addictive. She couldn’t get enough of them. Paprika flavor.

Thea’s belly rumbled.

Just as she was reaching for the large family-size pack, the hairs all over her body stood on end and her heart raced.

Her head whipped to the left up the aisle and the bell above the shop door tinkled as someone else walked in. Pulse thrumming hard, Thea pulled her hand back from the chips. All her life, she’d experienced a feeling akin to walking through an electrically charged space when something not good was about to happen.

Had they found her?

Looking up in the far-right corner of the shop where the owner had an old TV mounted to the wall, Thea watched the live footage of the front of the store. There was a man standing at the main counter talking to the owner.

Thea heard the old guy’s voice rise just as the new arrival pulled a handgun out of his pocket.

Oh shit.

She knew what she should do, and that was everything it took to not draw attention to herself. Thea was good at being quiet. She could creep up the aisle and make a quick dash for the door and be out of there before the guy with the gun could even blink.

Do it, Thea, the survivor in her urged.

Masking her steps with the otherworldly ability she’d had for as long as she could remember, Thea was almost at the end of the aisle. Ready to make a run for it. Get out of there. Save her own skin.

Not get involved.

Yet, Thea knew that the electrical charge she’d felt earlier didn’t happen just because a guy came into a store to rob it. That feeling was like a sixth sense. Something bad was going to happen here.

It wasn’t her business.

It wasn’t!

But the shopkeeper’s concerned expressions of admonishment filled Thea’s head.

Oh shit.

She couldn’t leave him here to get hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Thea listened as the argument between the shop owner and robber grew more heated. It sounded like her stubborn shopkeeper didn’t want to hand over his money. Really? Is it worth your life?

With a heavy exhalation, her stomach churning, Thea stepped out from behind the aisle and the shopkeeper’s eyes widened in concerned horror. The gunman had his back to her.

“I think maybe we should all—”

A crack ripped through the air, followed by a sharp sting of pain in her shoulder. She didn’t even get to finish her sentence because the gunman had whirled around in fright and shot her!

Thea glowered down at her shoulder and then up at the gunman whose eyes had widened. His hand trembled.

“Was that necessary?” Thea took an angry step toward him.

He fired again; the bullet ripped through her just inches from the last. She flinched at the burn.

Okay, now she was pissed.

The air crackled around her as she touched the bloody holes in the only jacket she owned. Feeling a little murderous, it must have shown on her face as she looked up because the gunman wasn’t the only one freaking out.

The shopkeeper was no longer looking at her like a concerned father. His face was pale with terror. He yelled something and if Thea had to guess, it was probably along the lines of “What are you?” or “Demon!” or “Monster!”

And then he scrambled out from behind the counter, slipping on the tiled floor, before throwing open the shop door to tear out of there, crying out at the top of his lungs.

Disappointment flooded Thea. “Nice,” she mumbled. She stepped into help, got shot twice, and that’s how he thanked her. When would she learn?

She cut a look at the gunman. His tawny skin was pale, his hand shaking hard as he backed into the counter, muttering what sounded like a plea under his breath.

Thea knew how she appeared. When someone pissed her off, her eyes transformed from brown to a gold so bright, no one could ever mistake her as human. Plus, she’d been shot, and she’d barely flinched. They knew she wasn’t just a woman. She was something else entirely.

And it looked like this guy would shoot her again for it.

Just because the bullets couldn’t kill her didn’t mean they didn’t pinch like a bitch. Thea didn’t much like the idea of another one. Plus, she could feel that while the first shot was through and through, the second wasn’t. There was a bullet inside her shoulder; she’d have to dig it out, and that would only slow her down. She didn’t fancy digging out two.