Page 29 of Throwing Shade
I fiddled with my purse strap.
Ava lifted her hands up. “Hey, no worries, if you’re not interested.”
“I just—”
“Willie, you son of a bitch,” Ava muttered. She marched over to the bowler, who’d shifted into a long cobra, and grabbed his tail. “I warned you.”
The snake spasmed and morphed back into a now-naked trembling human, eyes wide, who took one look at Ava and fainted on top of his sweats.
I frowned. Ava was angry, but fainting was a bit much.
His buddy sighed. “Ava.”
She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you ‘Ava’ me. It’s not like I made him shit his pants in fear. Though if he shifts again here, all bets are off. Got it?”
Ah. She’d manipulated Willie’s emotions, making him terrified of her. Note to self: don’t shake hands on the way out.
“Got it.” The friend prodded Willie with his foot to wake him up.
Ava headed back to me.
A crescent of light blazed up out of nowhere, and without thinking, I threw my cloaking mesh over Ava, enveloping her a fraction of a second before she was engulfed in a blinding light, which winked out as quickly as it came.
The bowling alley went dead silent, every single patron staring our way.
And why wouldn’t they be? A blindspot, a flash of light that killed Ohrists, had just flared up. Ohrists played Russian roulette every time they used their powers, because the same wellspring of magic that they tapped into could rise up at any time to devour them instead, thus replenishing the magical power supply. Even the tiniest action could trigger a blindspot, which was why some Ohrists never used their talents at all.
And here I was, the schmuck who’d called upon her powers to save one of them from it.
Willie fainted again.
“Lucky it missed you,” I said, too loudly. As a Banim Shovavim, I didn’t have to worry about blindspots. Our magic was bestowed by Lilith and therefore not subject to the same rules.
Ava’s hands were over her mouth. “You saved me.”
I mentally cursed myself. Revealing my fancy shadow magic to the wolf had been bad enough, but here I was flashing it to all and sundry. “Nonsense,” I said, lying through my teeth. “If Ohrists could save each other, we’d have figured out a buddy system a long time ago.”
“You’re Banim Shovavim.”
I stumbled back a few steps, my skin clammy, and my heartbeat thundering in my ears. “I—” I spun around and ran for the exit, but I was grabbed from behind. I struggled, but—
“Thank you! You saved my life!” Ava bear-hugged me. “Hey. You’re shaking.”
I braced my hands on my thighs and bent over, taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. I’d publicly outed myself. “They’ll find me.”
“Miri.” Ava placed a hand on my shoulder. “No one has cared about your kind in decades. Well, maybe that kind of fear is still warranted in some backwoods areas, but not a city like Vancouver.” She waved a hand at the other patrons. “Look. They’ve all gone back to their games. No one gives a damn.”
Willie, his sweat pants back on, glowered at us, but that was probably for Ava’s benefit.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “It’s not our history of being hunted.”
“Then what are you scared of?” she said.
I paused, and took a breath, forcing myself to say the words out loud. “The people who murdered my family.”
