Cold liquid bubbled out of the spout and dribbled over my fingers.

“Freaking Daisy and her crappy hookups,” I muttered, before doing the only thing I could think of: I threw the bottle at his face and looked around for help. But despite the half-full parking lot, no one else was around.

Of all the rotten luck!

He batted the bottle away lazily, and a tiny smile ghosted across his lush lips. He straightened up slowly, eyeing my hand.

“You’ve got a bit of problem there,” he said, and I could detect the faint accent again, though from where it came, I couldn’t say.

I braced myself to run, but what was the point? At the speed he could move, I wouldn’t even get one foot off the ground before his fingers were wrapped around my neck. Fighting was pointless, too. I had a couple years of martial arts training, plus a couple months of boxing, but I was rusty, and this guy was way beyond what I could handle on my best day. He’d bat me down like that bottle of mace.

Please don’t drag me into the magical zone and make an example of me…

“Sorry about the attempted macing,” I blurted, trying to keep it light and respectful. Maybe smoothing the ol’ ego would help. “You scared me. And also, sorry about stepping out in front of you earlier. That was my bad. You have places to be. I’m nobody. I shouldn’t keep you…”

His stormy, vicious gaze beat into me, and a small crease formed between his brows. My words trailed away into a thick, suffocating silence. The desire to run was so strong that I could barely breathe.

Without warning, he pivoted.

I jumped and lashed out. My fist sailed through empty air.

With my heart trying to punch through my chest, I panted and stared after him, incredulous.

He was walking away! He didn’t even glance back. After stalking me through the complex and basically threatening me because I’d stepped out in front of his car, he was choosing to ignore my obvious attempt at violence.

Was he off-kilter, or was I? Because my brain was having a hard time with the logic on this one.

He paused by his door. “You said you were buying that blanket for a sick kid?”

I lifted my eyebrows and tried to work my brain around to the change in topic. “Yes?”

“Was that true? The blue blanket?”

“It’s turquoise,” I corrected him without thinking.

“Why that one and not the other?”

I couldn’t stop blinking in confusion, which made me uncontrollably blunt. “Just so we’re clear, spying on people as they make life decisions is not appropriate whether we’re in a dual-society zone or not.”

“Choosing a blanket is a life decision?”

The fear for myself bled away instantly. All I could think about was Mordecai’s situation. “For the kid, yeah. It is.”

He rested a large arm on the edge of the door and his other hand on the roof. “Then why not go for the fluffier one?”

I shifted uncomfortably.

Usually, I didn’t mind admitting I was dirt poor. I couldn’t even get handouts. The non-magical government said I didn’t qualify because I was technically magical, and the magical governing body didn’t give a shit about me or my situation because I wasn’t useful or powerful. I’d set up camp in the crack of the two uninterested societies, my meager earnings just enough to keep me and my two wards off the street. I was doing what I could, and it was for a good cause. Why would anyone be embarrassed about that?

But…for some reason…I didn’t want to share my nitty-gritty with this guy. I didn’t want him shining a light on my life and commenting on what he saw. For once, I didn’t want to admit that I was essentially the dog poop ruining important people’s shoes.

I lifted my chin defiantly. “Because he likes cheery colors, and turquoise will fit the bill.”

His penetrating stare made me squirm, even from that distance. Finally, he nodded with a flat expression, then sat into his car and closed the door behind him. Without another glance, he revved the engine, and the car lurched forward.

Body shaking, I watched the Ferrari head back to that service driveway as the fake or too-old mace dried on my fingers.

He had stopped his business earlier to follow me. He’d admitted he couldn’t kill me outright here, which meant he’d thought about killing me in the first place. And now he had my license plate and could easily find out where I lived.

The question was, would he? And if he did, what was it about me that had triggered such a hardcore reaction? I was a nobody, and this was the Wild West of San Francisco—if he was really that important, he could’ve just run me over and kept going. Stopping and tracking me like prey, then letting me go, spoke of a big cat playing with its food.

I had no illusions of my place on the food chain in this duo. And now he knew how to find me.

5

Alexis

“How was your day?” Frank asked as I fitted the key into my front door lock later that evening. His thinning gray hair streaked across his balding head in a bad comb-over. His thin lips pressed into a slightly downturned line and his watery blue eyes were draped in loose skin.

I slumped against the door, really not in the mood for Frank’s idle chitchat.

“Kind of crappy, actually,” I said, wiping moisture off my forehead. Fog rolled and boiled around us, August one of the worst months for it in San Francisco. While Valens, the Demigod at the pinnacle of our magical governing body, could affect the weather, he didn’t bother in the dual or non-magical zones.

“At lunch, some rich, handsome guy stalked me around a shopping complex—”

“That doesn’t sound crappy,” Frank interrupted. “A pretty girl like yourself? Rich and handsome is what you deserve.”

Frank had lost touch with how the world worked.

“You must’ve missed the word stalked, but sure—”

“We don’t call it stalked, honey, we call it interested. You need to alter your perceptions a little, is all.”

Or maybe Frank was just creepy.

“What have I said about calling me ‘honey,’ Frank?”

“See, now, that’s just it.” He waggled a gnarled finger at me. “You’re too prickly. You need to loosen up if you ever hope to land a husband.”

I laughed, and a woman with short hair gave me a wary look as she passed by on the sidewalk.

I quieted and analyzed my keys. It was best to keep my head down. The non-magical government couldn’t kick me out of the neighborhood because it was a dual-society zone and I was closer to the magical line than not, but if all the Chesters banded together, they could make my life hell until I had no choice but to leave. I couldn’t afford that option.

Best to keep my weird on the down-low.

“The last thing I want is a husband, Frank,” I whispered, turning the lock. “I already have two people to look after; I don’t need one more.”

“Ah.” Frank nodded like it all suddenly made sense. “One of those bra-burning feminist types, huh? You don’t need a man. You want to roar. I get it.”

“But do you?” I leaned against the door as a smile crawled onto my face. For reasons unknown, it tickled me how out of touch Frank was.

“Sure, sure. Women’s lib. Flag burning. Damn shame.”

“Nope. Those are different things.”

He waved the thought away. “Someday, when you realize that it’s a tough world out there, you’ll come to your senses and want a man to take care of you.”

“Well, if you know any rich ones who want to actually take care of me, or even know how to use their words as opposed to creeping me out with penetrating stares, send them my way, would ya?”

“You may have missed your chance. Earlier, at the shopping mall.”

“That guy didn’t want to take care of me, Frank. He wanted to scare me. Or…actually, I’m not really sure what his end game was, now that I think of it. But it certainly wasn’t to propose and take me away from this charmed life.”

“Ah now, it ain’t all that bad.” Frank reached out to chuck my chin.

“Stop that. No touching, remember?”

“Right, right.” Confusion stole over Frank’s expression. “No touching, right.”