Magic Steals Read Free Page B

mingled, as we shared the same breath. He had no idea how beautiful he made me feel when he kissed me like this.
    â€œDali! What’s taking so long?”
    I broke away from him.
    He shook his head, his arms wrapped around me. “No.”
    â€œI have to go.”
    â€œNo, you don’t.”
    I wiggled and felt him. He was hard and ready for action.
    â€œJim, let me go. We can’t make out now.”
    He nodded. “Yes, we can.”
    â€œMy mother is downstairs.”
    He didn’t seem impressed.
    â€œIt’s that red thing, isn’t it?” I whispered.
    â€œNo, actually it was your little tank top and panties as you jumped out of bed this morning. Or specifically what was in them.”
    â€œDali?” my mother called.
    I slumped onto him. “She isn’t going to let it go.”
    â€œWhich car are you taking?” he asked.
    â€œPooki.”
    He set me down on the carpet. “I’ll catch up with you.”
    Before I could say anything, Jim opened the window and jumped out of it. I sighed, yelled, “Coming, Mom!” and went to get dressed.
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    POOKI was my Plymouth Prowler. When you’re barely one hundred pounds and other shapeshifters make fun of you behind your back because you’re the only tiger who eats grass in the entire state, you have to do something to prove that you’re not a wimp. My thing was cars. I raced them. Unfortunately being half-blind meant I crashed a lot, but being a shapeshifter meant I walked away from most of it, so the risk balanced itself out. Jim kept forbidding me to race, as the alpha of Clan Cat. I kept disobeying him. Some things just had to be done. When I raced, I felt powerful and strong. I felt awesome. I couldn’t give that up no matter how many times I had mangled my cars.
    Normally Pooki occupied a treasured spot in my garage, but a friend asked me to take care of his Corvette. He didn’tlive in the best neighborhood and he was paranoid about his baby being stolen while he was out of town. So right now the Corvette chilled in the garage next to Rambo, my ’93 Mustang, and Pooki had to suffer the indignity of being parked in the driveway. I looked around. No sign of Jim. Hmm.
    I unlocked Pooki, got in, and began to chant under my breath. The magic was in full swing and it took fifteen minutes to get the water engine running. Pooki had two engines, a gasoline one and the enchanted water one. Internal combustion engines refused to combust during magic, which made no scientific sense, because gasoline fumes still burned in open air. But trying to measure magic by Newtonian laws of physics and Gibbs’s thermodynamics was pointless. It didn’t just disobey those laws. Magic had no idea they existed.
    The engine purred. I waited for an extra second, hoping Jim would jump into the car out of nowhere, but nothing happened. His scent was still on me. I sighed, backed out of the driveway, and drove down the street.
    It was too much to hope for a whole day together. The Pack was keeping him busy.
    I pulled up to the stop sign. The passenger door opened and Jim slid into the seat next to me. I clicked the locks closed. Ha-ha! He was trapped.
    â€œI’m going to try to find Eyang Ida. She’s a nice old lady, who disappeared from her house and some sort of bad magic is involved.”
    He nodded. “Can I come along?”
    â€œYes. Put your seat belt on.”
    â€œI should drive,” he said.
    I laughed.
    â€œDali,” he said, dropping into his “I’m a Serious Alpha Man” tone. “I’ve seen you drive.”
    â€œNobody drives Pooki but me. You know this. Seat belt.”
    Jim clicked the seat belt in place and braced himself.
    I stepped on the gas. We took the next turn at thirty miles per hour. Pooki didn’t quite careen, but he thought about it. Jim swore.
    I laughed a little bit. “The magic is up. The