out for a moment. Sprig was going to die if I didn’t get him food.”
Ryker snorted and glanced over at Sprig stuffing
churros into his mouth.
“True story,” Sprig garbled out.
“Yeah, freaked me out when I first woke up, but the
note plastered to my forehead kind of let me know you hadn’t been
kidnapped.”
Actually, it said: Ryker, haven’t been kidnapped
except by a monkey and his stomach. Be back soon.
“How are you feeling?” I pointed to his calf. The
wound had finally closed, but it looked puffy and raised.
“Fine.” He frowned. No doubt he’d noticed he was
slower to heal. “What I really need is a drink.” He pulled a black
T-shirt over his head.
A moment of neither of us speaking suddenly felt
awkward and heavy . Why am I nervous around him now? Why can I
only think about what’s under his towel?
“Uh. Th-there’s a parade tonight, and I guess it’s a
big deal.” I waved to the windows. “Fireworks and a big party in
the streets. Whole town is involved.” Shut up, Zoey . “The
owner at the market said we couldn’t avoid it.” Please, shut up . “Think the parade is at six and the fireworks are
at ten or something.” And then the worst thing possible happened. A
nervous giggle broke from my lips. I usually had a deep laugh. I
didn’t giggle.
Kill. Me. Now .
Ryker tilted his head, examining me. Even Sprig
stopped eating and stared at me.
“Are you all right, Bhean ?” Sprig’s forehead
folded in lines. “You look flustered.”
Yeah. “No.” I pinched the space between my
eyes, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t look up as another beat of
silence pounded in my ears.
“Sounds fun,” Ryker finally said, drawing my
attention over to him. He stepped into a pair of clean boxer
briefs, his towel still wrapped around his waist. “Want to start
early? Get a drink down the street?”
Drink. Yes. Good idea.
“Uh... yeah.” I nodded. “Where are you going?”
“Tulio’s.”
“The bar we crashed into? The one where he called the
cops on us?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already been back there. Tulio
will leave us alone, I promise.”
Ahh. That’s where he came back from the other night,
stumbling drunk. Poor Tulio got glamoured.
“Okay, but I’ll meet you there. I want to do
something first.”
Ryker’s brows lowered as he tugged on his last pair
of green cargo pants. The other ones were in the trash. Ryker
slipped on his boots and snagged a churro out of Sprig’s hand,
biting down on it. Sprig gaped at his empty hand like he lost his
best friend. “You know where to find me.” Ryker grabbed a set of
keys and left.
“He took my churro...” Sprig’s bottom lip quivered as
he stared at his empty hand.
“Uh-oh. Will I have to break out the banana chips
soon?”
Sprig sniffed. “Maybe.”
I shook my head and walked to the bathroom, holding a
box I purchased at the store. When I saw it on the shelf I knew
what I had to do. Even if it only fooled people for a moment, it
would be worth it. I set the package on the counter. A girl with
plum hair stared back at me from the carton. Arlo was the one who
pointed it out. Right away people would know I wasn’t Amara, only
cementing the gossip about Ryker being magic-less and traveling
with a brunette human.
Thirty minutes later, my hair was a rich shade of
purple. I turned my head back and forth, admiring my new look. My
figure was curvier and shorter than Amara’s lean modelesque one,
but people would notice my shape a lot less than the hair.
Sprig hopped into the room. “Your hair looks like an
eggplant.”
“I know.” The colored locks fell around, framing my
face. I actually liked it. A lot. I felt even more like a badass.
Sexy badass.
“It actually looks good on you.” Sprig leaped on the
sink.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Making me crave eggplant lasagna. Or berry pie.”
“How about honey-dipped mango chips and a Spanish
soap opera?”
Sprig’s eyes widened in excitement, then
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham