Page 11 of Lunar Diamonds
“The roof of your car’s gone,” Nina said.
A strange silence fell across the staffroom. Carol stared at Nina, me caught between them. She blinked a few times, saying nothing.
“Carol?” Nina pressed.
Our manager’s throat bobbed. “My car?”
Nina nodded.
Another throat bob, her left eye twitching. “My. Car.”
I could almost hear the cogs of processing whir inside her skull. The best thing for me to do was get up, leave, and put this day to bed.
“My. Bloody. Car.” Her tone was smooth, yet unsettling.
She’d been so caught up dealing with the aftermath of the attack to even consider checking on her vehicle.
Poor Carol.
“My. Car.” A few seconds passed, and then she exploded. “My mother fucking car!” She jumped up, charging out of the staffroom like a bull enraged by a bevy of red flags.
“Oh dear,” Nina said, finally eating a piece of her destroyed wafers.
I finished the drink, the pain easing up. I gathered my stuff from my locker and headed to the library entrance where witchcops guarded the doors.
Wind howled through the broken windows. From the corner of my eye, I saw the goblin’s blood pooled on the carpet.
So much blood…
A witchcop let me out into the bitter afternoon air. The coldness in my lungs refreshed me, reminding me to breathe deeply. And I did, taking in greedy lungfuls.
Better. Much better.
There were witchcops everywhere, on high alert.
Ready to move and desperate for the sanctuary of my flat, I passed the smoking cannon nestled in a circular pebble garden, hurrying across the large square the library shared with the shopping center, a supermarket, and a family restaurant.
Pigeons scattered as I passed the fountain, a couple of witchcops cursing the birds.
Mystique Square had undergone an extensive, controversial redevelopment, transforming from a small square of boutique stores to this hub. Older buildings were torn down, including a popular pub. The residents of Coldharbour never stopped complaining about it these past seven years—I heard a lot of it from customers. But their grievances were ignored both then and now by the city council. They called it progress, and that was that.
“Get home as soon as possible,” a witchcop barked at me.
“Will do.”
I picked up my pace, heading for the far side of the square opposite the library where the bus stops were.
Understandably, there weren’t many people around right now, witchcops aside.
Soon be home. Soon be home. Soon be home,I repeated like a mantra in my head.
For a hot shower and plenty of snuggly blanket time.
A bang on my left made me stagger. I caught myself before my face hit the ground, turning to see the source of the commotion. My heart jumped into my throat, my bottom lip clamped between my teeth.
Not again. Not again. Not again.
Nothing more than the slam of an industrial bin lid down the pub’s service alley. There were witchcops down there, dragging things across the ground.
