Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(97)
Human/vampire children were very like Blade if they were boys. They could walk around in daylight, needed blood but not often (even less than full-blooded vampires, three or four times a year), lived somewhat shorter lives (a hundred fifty, two hundred years at most) and were always boys.
Girls produced from human/vampire procreation were invariably human but could be stronger or have excellent eyesight but usually just plain ole normal.
Don’t ask me why this all happened. There is a book I started about vampire DNA (reconfigured at siring or inherited at birth) and the sex chromosomes and all sorts of other stuff that had to do with genetics and the like. But that book was boring so I didn’t finish it.
* * * * *
“Oh.” (Viv)
“I’m Gabriel.” (Gabriel)
I bugged my eyes out at Viv again.
Gabriel.
Right.
I took his name as a sign.
We were then at a loss.
How, exactly, did one go about hiring a mercenary?
Gabriel grinned at us. “Let me make this easy for you…” Then he laid out his terms and conditions, as if he were selling us a car, but in a very nice French (ish), English, American (?) accent.
Viv and I looked at each other.
“I don’t know…” Viv was being unusually indecisive, “are you willing to leave the country?”
“You Mathilda?”
I turned to see a young man in a weird outfit (purple velvet shirt, I didn’t even know they made shirts in velvet but, looking at him, I knew they shouldn’t) addressing me and standing about five feet away and lastly, for some reason, staring at me belligerently.
What now?
I was minding my own business.
Why me?
“Don’t respond,” Gabriel said quickly to me.
Seemed like good advice.
I turned away.
“Eh, woman! I said, are you Mathilda?”
“Just ignore him,” Gabriel said again. “He’s just looking to prove himself against The Mathilda. You’ve started to get a bit of a reputation, warlocks and other idiots flooding The Hobgoblin in hopes of getting a shot at you. Don’t give him the chance.”
A reputation?
What reputation?
What was this?
Who was I, Calamity Jane?
Was I now Calamity Mathilda (don’t answer that!) the fastest wand in England and open to any moron with an attitude?
“Listen to me, bitch!” the stranger in the bad shirt demanded.
Uh-oh.
I wasn’t fond of being called “bitch”.
In a flash, Derek was there.
“You said no trouble. Take it outside, as in, the back. We don’t need any questions.”
I took a deep breath.
I would not sink to his level.
I would not be forced into a confrontation I did not want.
“Hey, dude,” I was trying to be patient, “I don’t want any…” I started, turning back to the guy but as I did so, he whipped out a wand (a wand!) and sent this pathetic little wisp of sparkler-esque magic my way.
Without thinking, I just flicked my fingers and a shell pink and violet poof of pixie dust came out and opened, like a parachute, deflecting the sparkles so they ricocheted off and hit the man who dealt them, knocking him on his ass.
Oops.
Not a good idea.
Behind every warlock with bits of magic, there was a witch. And this guy’s witch didn’t like him to land on his ass in front of all the other bad boys and girls in The Hobgoblin.
“Hey, bitch… what do ya think you’re doing, eh?” she asked, storming toward us, belligerent too (and wearing a full on velvet dress, which was acceptable in most instances, just not the one she was wearing).
Uh-oh, there was that bitch-word again.
“You said no trouble!” Derek shouted.
Too late.
All hell broke loose.
“Who’re you calling a bitch?” Viv sneered.
Forgot, Viv hated the word “bitch” more than me.
Wands were pulled out, words were thrown, tables were upended and the tense always up for a mêlée atmosphere of The Hobgoblin exploded into a full-on, Wild West brawl where everyone was invited to join even if they weren’t involved in the original beef.
I felt an arm around my waist as I pulled out my wand and then I was flying through the air.
Yes, I said flying through the air.
Gabriel had a hold of both Viv and I. We – I kid you not – flew through the air while Gabriel nonchalantly leaped over the heads of the crowd to land in front of the door.
Once outside, we started to run but the fracas had spilled out the door (not to mention, not too easy to leg it in turquoise-encrusted t-straps).
The angry witch and her warlock came after us and Gabriel grabbed us again.
Up in the air, we landed on top of a taxi about five car lengths away.
Up again, we were at the end of the block.
Up, down, up, down, up, down and before we knew it we were running down the steps of a tube station.
Viv magicked the ticket machine and we were on a train in no time.
Stop, “mind the gap”, change trains.
Stop, “mind the gap”, change trains.
Stop, “mind the gap”, change trains.
Out at Picadilly, through the Circus, down the street and into the crush of Fortnum and Mason.