direction.
Then, between one swing and the next, a meaty hand snaked out and closed around a slender ankle.
Kris’ next swing went wide.
Then the meat-mind was on its feet and Kris was swinging, dreadlocks sweeping back and forth across the floor.
Darting into the melee, Claire pounded one of the meat-minds on the shoulder-given the location, it was probably a shoulder. When it turned, she ground fresh pepper into its face. It looked affronted, then blinked onyx eyes, scrunched up its nose, and sneezed, covering Claire in a dripping patina of snot before falling backward to the floor.
Teemo, his orange-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt clutched in bratwurst-sized fingers, went down with it. “Is it dead?” he panted, bracing red hightops against the meat-mind’s stained sweat suit and yanking himself free.
“No,” Claire spat, scrubbing at her face with the hem of her skirt. “Asleep.”
“Bummer.” Switching to a two-handed grip, he set about changing that.
Given her sudden, desperate need for a shower, Claire wasn’t at all surprised when the sprinklers went off.
“Geez, these guys are clumsy,” Diana muttered, as she ran. “Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy.” But it was hard to hold the thought when the only thing she could see was Kris dangling by one foot. Her mouth might be saying clumsy, but her brain kept insisting, don’t stop her.
Closely followed by: Would you stop whaling on it! You’re just pissing it off!
Closely followed by: I guess that answers the ‘do they or don’t they’ genitalia question, as Kris’ flailing bat impacted between the creature’s legs with no effect.
Its knees were significantly more sensitive.
Howling in pain, it whipped Kris twice around its head then threw her toward the concourse.
Diana rocked to a halt, spun around as Kris sailed by, yanked open her pouch, and broke a lime-green feather in half.
The mall elf floated gently to the floor as the sprinklers came on.
A tote bag whistled past Diana’s head fast enough to part her hair, the letters on the bag a red-on-white blur. Heart pounding, she raced past the furious meat-mind while it struggled to recover its balance, the force of the swing having nearly tipped it over.
“Diana! Over here!” Sam paced in front of the optical shop, tail lashing marmalade lines in the air. “Something’s happening!” Inside the store, a multicolored fog had begun to swirl.
A familiar multicolored fog.
Diana skidded to a stop by Sam’s side. “The travel agency?” All of a sudden, the whole attack made a horrible kind of sense. The red plume on the dark elf’s helm, the tote bags. The darkside had chartered a trip into the mall elves’ territory. “Who’s coming up with this stuff!” she snarled, reaching back into her pouch.
“Hurry!”
As the fog grew thicker, a familiar trio of shapes began to take form.
“Not this time, bologna for brains.”
As the three meat-minds charged toward the door, Diana dropped to her knees and slammed a key down on the threshold. Slamming into the barrier with enough force to vibrate glass all the way to the exit, they bounced back into the fog and disappeared. It was probably imagination that provided the crash of impact at the travel agency, one level down and a quarter of a kilometer away.
“You sure that’ll hold them?” Sam demanded, looking dubious as he checked out the key.
“Hey, when I lock a door, it stays locked.” She rocked back on her heels and stood. “Why aren’t you wet?”
“Why should I be?”
“The sprinklers . . .”
He stared up at her, amber eyes challenging.
“. . . never mind.”
A quick run back to the end of the hall.
Out on the concourse, about two thirds of the meat-minds were down, those parts of their faces not being covered by the impact of baseball bats, covered in fresh ground pepper. Claire sat slumped against the art supply store, cradling one arm.
Scattered, brightly colored heaps marked fallen elves, Kris and Colin weaving
Then, between one swing and the next, a meaty hand snaked out and closed around a slender ankle.
Kris’ next swing went wide.
Then the meat-mind was on its feet and Kris was swinging, dreadlocks sweeping back and forth across the floor.
Darting into the melee, Claire pounded one of the meat-minds on the shoulder-given the location, it was probably a shoulder. When it turned, she ground fresh pepper into its face. It looked affronted, then blinked onyx eyes, scrunched up its nose, and sneezed, covering Claire in a dripping patina of snot before falling backward to the floor.
Teemo, his orange-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt clutched in bratwurst-sized fingers, went down with it. “Is it dead?” he panted, bracing red hightops against the meat-mind’s stained sweat suit and yanking himself free.
“No,” Claire spat, scrubbing at her face with the hem of her skirt. “Asleep.”
“Bummer.” Switching to a two-handed grip, he set about changing that.
Given her sudden, desperate need for a shower, Claire wasn’t at all surprised when the sprinklers went off.
“Geez, these guys are clumsy,” Diana muttered, as she ran. “Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy.” But it was hard to hold the thought when the only thing she could see was Kris dangling by one foot. Her mouth might be saying clumsy, but her brain kept insisting, don’t stop her.
Closely followed by: Would you stop whaling on it! You’re just pissing it off!
Closely followed by: I guess that answers the ‘do they or don’t they’ genitalia question, as Kris’ flailing bat impacted between the creature’s legs with no effect.
Its knees were significantly more sensitive.
Howling in pain, it whipped Kris twice around its head then threw her toward the concourse.
Diana rocked to a halt, spun around as Kris sailed by, yanked open her pouch, and broke a lime-green feather in half.
The mall elf floated gently to the floor as the sprinklers came on.
A tote bag whistled past Diana’s head fast enough to part her hair, the letters on the bag a red-on-white blur. Heart pounding, she raced past the furious meat-mind while it struggled to recover its balance, the force of the swing having nearly tipped it over.
“Diana! Over here!” Sam paced in front of the optical shop, tail lashing marmalade lines in the air. “Something’s happening!” Inside the store, a multicolored fog had begun to swirl.
A familiar multicolored fog.
Diana skidded to a stop by Sam’s side. “The travel agency?” All of a sudden, the whole attack made a horrible kind of sense. The red plume on the dark elf’s helm, the tote bags. The darkside had chartered a trip into the mall elves’ territory. “Who’s coming up with this stuff!” she snarled, reaching back into her pouch.
“Hurry!”
As the fog grew thicker, a familiar trio of shapes began to take form.
“Not this time, bologna for brains.”
As the three meat-minds charged toward the door, Diana dropped to her knees and slammed a key down on the threshold. Slamming into the barrier with enough force to vibrate glass all the way to the exit, they bounced back into the fog and disappeared. It was probably imagination that provided the crash of impact at the travel agency, one level down and a quarter of a kilometer away.
“You sure that’ll hold them?” Sam demanded, looking dubious as he checked out the key.
“Hey, when I lock a door, it stays locked.” She rocked back on her heels and stood. “Why aren’t you wet?”
“Why should I be?”
“The sprinklers . . .”
He stared up at her, amber eyes challenging.
“. . . never mind.”
A quick run back to the end of the hall.
Out on the concourse, about two thirds of the meat-minds were down, those parts of their faces not being covered by the impact of baseball bats, covered in fresh ground pepper. Claire sat slumped against the art supply store, cradling one arm.
Scattered, brightly colored heaps marked fallen elves, Kris and Colin weaving
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