Page 25 of Quiver of Cobras
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We spent far longer in the sex shop than should have been necessary. That wasn’t because we were perusing all that was on offer with keen buyers’ eyes but because it took so long to get into the clothes. I tried not to think about how many other people had tried on this same pair of tight leather trousers and decided that, now I was wearing them, I was going to stick with them. The corset was particularly pleasing. If I were a breast man, I’d definitely be appreciative of the plumped flesh I was currently displaying. I wondered which anatomical part Morgan favoured.
Lunaria, whose outfit was very similar to mine, walked out of the shop with a bow-legged gait like she’d just spent three weeks riding a horse across a dusty, American state. She plucked at the leather that stretched tautly across her thighs and grimaced. ‘It’s quite itchy, isn’t it?’
‘I rather like the feel of it against my skin,’ I said, enjoying the gaping mouths of the pedestrians, both male and female, who passed us. I was hoping for some irritating human male who took the outfit as an invitation to wolf whistle – or worse. I had a lot of pent-up aggression after dealing with Rubus and I could do with dragging someone into an alley and beating them up.
I frowned down at my arms. I possessed weak muscles and hadn’t had time to pump some iron in a gym or learn a swanky martial art. Perhaps I could glamour myself some fabulous new biceps – though I’d have to be careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want to ruin my new dominatrix look.
‘What are you doing, Madrona?’ Lunaria asked, glancing at my screwed-up face.
‘Trying to glamour myself some muscles,’ I said. I flexed. ‘Do these look bigger to you?’
She laughed. ‘You’re funny.’
Was I? I frowned at her. She just smirked back.
I was about to ask her to explain when something odd caught my peripheral vision. I half turned, my gaze catching on a flutter of purple fabric that disappeared behind one of the rooftops opposite. That was … interesting. It wasn’t windy enough for it to be a kite or a piece of loose rubbish caught by a breeze. I maintained my pace and kept my head pointed forward but I was fully alert for further signs.
‘Do you really think Rubus will like my outfit?’ Lunaria asked, oblivious.
‘He’ll love it.’ I had no idea why she believed I had insights into Rubus’s mind. I did have amnesia, after all. Even if my old self had been close enough to him to know what his penchants were, for all I knew now he had a kink for frilly waitress uniforms. If I were to take a guess, I reckoned that he probably couldn’t give a shit what anyone else wore. The man was far too self-obsessed.
There was another flicker of movement over the rooftop and this time it wasn’t a piece of flapping fabric; I could have sworn it was actually a face, peering round a chimney at us. We were being followed but by what – or by whom – I had no idea. Maybe this was someone related to Morgan. Either way, I had to ditch Lunaria and find out.
‘You know what?’ I said. ‘You should go ahead. If we stroll into the hideout together, the attention will be on me because I look so hot in this outfit. You want Rubus to noticeyou. If you go in first, and I give you a bit of time to find him, he’ll focus all his interest on you.’
Her eyes shone. ‘Do you really think he’ll be interested?’
I pointed at her. ‘Look at you! If he’s not, then the man’s a fool!’ I gave her a little nudge. ‘Go on. I’ll wait here for about twenty minutes then head in. You can tell the others that I stopped to buy some shoes or something.’ I shrugged. ‘Or whatever.’
Lunaria leaned over and kissed my cheek. ‘You are the best friend ever.’
‘You can thank me later,’ I said drily. ‘Go on.’
Wreathed in smiles, she darted ahead. I watched her go, waiting until she was out of sight before I swung round. Alrighty, Mr Tail. Where are you now? I held my breath. A moment later there was a loud squawk and several birds flew up into the air. I couldn’t see any sign of a person but I now knew where they were hiding. With my shoulders pulled back, I marched across the street.
I gazed upwards. From this angle, I couldn’t see a damned thing. In an alternate universe maybe I could have managed to shimmy up the drainpipe then sprint catlike across the rooftops to catch the fellow – but it seemed highly unlikely in this outfit. I decided that improvisation was the only way to go.
Glancing around, I spotted a litter bin nearby. I reached inside, hoping for something like a dog-poo bag filled to the brim. The first thing my fingers grabbed was a fizzy-drink can. Well, at least it would be aerodynamic.
Rather than launching it directly at the spot where I assumed my tracker was cowering, I aimed slightly for the left; after all, this could be a friend rather than a foe. I released my makeshift missile, sending it upwards. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, my aim was off. Instead of smacking into the tiles next to the chimney, the can bounced off a dirty satellite dish and rolled back down, landing next to me and spraying sticky juice all over my new leather trousers.
I cursed to myself as I bent over to wipe them down. As I did so, I heard a muffled yelp followed by a thud. By the sounds of things, Mr Tail had fallen off the roof of his own accord. Abandoning cleaning my trousers, I straightened up and glanced round. He must have landed on the other side of the buildings.
I couldn’t waste any more time. I sprinted down the pavement, rounding the first bend so I could go round the back of the terraced row of shops. This street was quieter and I couldn’t see anyone. I ran as fast as I could – and almost missed him. It was the clatter of a dustbin lid that eventually gave him away. Whoever he was, he was a clumsy arsebadger.
I wheeled round, my eyes scanning the area. There, crouching down with the offending bin lid held in front of his body as if it were a glorious shield, was a small man of about seventy years old.
I stalked over until I was standing in front of him. I put my hands on my hips. ‘Well, well, well,’ I drawled. ‘What do we have here?’
He pulled the dustbin lid up a bit higher, concealing his face.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I can’t see you.’
He let out a petrified squeak. A moment later, he threw the lid on the ground and darted off in the opposite direction.
For an old guy, he was a speedy bugger. Mouth open, I watched him for a second before launching myself after him. My delay meant that he almost managed to disappear after he turned right at the end of the road. I pumped my arms and legs; no way was I going to let an arsebadger of a pensioner beat me in a race.
