Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell #3)(34)

“You can’t have any. Forget it.”

“One drop.”

“You got three hundred bucks buried under the tent? I don’t think so. But if you wanna be my wingman, you can earn it.”

While the boy hesitated, the other one, the boy in charge, shifted the bag out of reach. It could’ve been any old backpack. And it was hard to tell if his hair was merely short or if he had a buzz cut, but he did have a blue halo. I homed in on his voice as Lon and I crept closer.

“You want me to help you sell it?”

“My supplies are running lower than I’d like, so I need to replenish. I want you to help me get a little more cash.”

“I thought you took it. Why don’t you just steal some more?”

“There are only two places I can get this, and the person I ganked it from . . . I just can’t go back there. Besides, he only had a little more, and I’m not interested in small-time stuff. I want to go straight to the source this time, and this guy’s got major security. So I’m gonna need money for some new equipment to get around it. I’m talking James Bond shit—plasma cutters, C-4 plastic, hacking software. All that costs. So I want you to help me clean out a few safes and registers.”

“I thought you and Noel were done with that.”

Mother trucker.

“Noel was a *. You want to help me, or not?” He reached inside his backpack and retrieved something. After peeling off a cuff of bubble wrap, he held it up for the other kid’s inspection. It was a small, clear bottle with a cork stopper, filled with bright red liquid. It looked exactly like some of my medicinal jars.

“Whoa,” the boy cooed, practically salivating. “How much is that worth?”

He wound the bubble wrap around the bottle and stuck it back in the backpack. “Five grand. Twenty-five doses of bionic juice,” he said proudly as he zipped the bag closed and set it on the ground behind his chair. As if he wanted to put just a little more distance between it and the chubby boy with the greedy eyes. “Enough to amp up twenty-five ordinary knacks.”

Bionic juice.

I glanced at Lon. It was a f*cking medicinal. An elixir. Had to be. The old-fashioned bottle screamed I-was-brewed-by-an-occult-magician! My blood was boiling. I was done being stealthy.

A cloud of dust rose around my feet as I charged down the embankment, not giving a shit whether they heard me or not. There wasn’t much of anything with enough heft to be worth tossing our way—tents, cardboard, lawn chairs? No cars in the immediate vicinity. My blood practically sang with the urge to draw a shit-ton of current and zap him in the balls.

The boys looked up, startled, when I came barreling toward them. Both leapt from their chairs. Lon’s Lupara clicked beside me.

“Where’s my money, you little prick?” I shouted.

Telly leveled a look at me that was wholly unafraid.

“You have it stashed in a hole under one of these tents? Or was Noel Saint-Hill holding it for you when you smashed him under a f*cking car?”

The second boy made a noise. His gaze flicked nervously to Telly’s.

“Was he the first person you’ve killed with your new trumped-up knack? Does injuring women not do it for you anymore? Because you f*cking broke my partner’s bones with that stupid paint stunt you pulled in my bar.”

“If you wanted to take me down, maybe you should’ve brought her out here,” Telly said in an even, taunting voice. “Because you’d have a better chance with her fear knack than some long-haired beach bum with a gun.”

A shot exploded. The boys lunged to the side as a mushroom cloud of dust flew up from the cracked dirt near Telly’s feet.

“Holy f*ck!” the second boy shouted as he backed into a lawn chair that overturned.

“Bullet trumps knack,” Lon said as my ear rang from the blast.

Telly’s face flashed deep red. He was pissed. He flicked his hand to the side and Lon’s arm followed the motion. He clung to the gun even as Telly was trying his damnedest to pull the thing away—the same thing the boy had done to me in the bar with my caduceus, only Lon wasn’t caught off guard like I was. He strained to keep his grip on it as Telly grunted in frustration. The whole thing looked like a bad mime act.

But just when I thought Lon was going to win the tug-o-war, the Lupara flew across the riverbed and landed in a pile of weeds on the opposite embankment. Why did he give it up? A second later, I had my answer. A familiar unearthly sensation went through me like a herd of stampeding horses. Light burst around Lon’s shoulders as his halo doubled in size and flamed up into a fiery golden oval that covered his shoulders. Twin, ruddy horns spiraled out of his hairline above his temples, curling around his ears.

Both boys froze, eyes bugging. A dark spot spread over the crotch of the husky kid’s jeans. Telly’s mouth fell open.

“Wiped that cocky smile off your telekinetic face, didn’t it?” I said. “No juice required.”

Before he could reply, the boy who’d pissed his pants whipped around and booked it, racing up the opposite embankment. I briefly considered running him down, but we didn’t need him. Right now I wanted to focus my attention on the main problem.

“Your friend bailed on you, Telly,” I said. The sound of his name in my mouth made him flinch, just barely. “Maybe you’ll just kill him, too, when you catch up with him later.”