âJust a few more tweaksâ¦â I entered a final password into the security database for the Councilâs new storage facility, located in the seventh quarter of Paris behind the former military school, and clicked return. âAnd youâll be up and running.â
âThanks, Cinder.â Certainly Jones, the Councilâs chief archivist, slapped me across the back and propped up his booted feet on the table next to the security panel that featured six HD screens that would broadcast from all cameras. âWhere you headed next?â
âNot sure. I might have some downtime here in Paris.â
I was the Councilâs one and only systems technician and securities advisor. Computer algorithms and mathematics? Such innate skill ran through my veins. You might even say I was the originator of numbers. And despite the Councilâs tradition of observing and respectfully guiding as they oversaw the paranormal nations, they were aware a more high-tech method of watching must be utilized in this day and age.
Certainly was a witch who practiced dark magic, and had given me the name Cinder after Iâd escaped from Beneath, and had been a friend and advisor regarding this mortal realm since.
âHere you go. The storage facility is now online.â I clicked Return and we both leaned forward to study the security screens that flickered on to show various places within and without the ultra-warded facility. Certainly was the first to notice the blur on screen six.
âIs that a person?â he asked. âComing out of the storage facility? Iâm not aware of scheduled access today, other than you.â
My heart sank, because it would be too insane that someone had infiltrated the place while I had taken the wards and security down for a mere two hours to set up the cameras.
âCanât be.â I eyed the dark figure. Looked small, like a kid, dressed in black. The person slinked along the back wall of the building. And then the figure tugged off the black hood to reveal a fall of long blond hair.
âItâs a chick,â Certainly said. âRobbing us!â
âNot for long.â Shoving away from the desk on the roller-wheeled office chair, I stood and spread out my arms in preparation to smoke on out of there. âBe right back.â
Iâm a fire demon from Beneath. I wield fire as my own personal weapon. I can do cool things like mist to smoke or fire, and traverse great distances with but a thought. But apparently, I canât prevent a thief from taking opportunity of security downtime.
I smoked to human shape outside the storage facility. Wisps of emerald smoke lingered at my feet. A lush perfume hit me like a bouquet of âIâm sorryâ roses in a cheating boyfriendâs face. Anger rising, flames wisped from my hands as I ran around the corner and spied the blonde figure dashing down the Metro stairs.
Smoking to the top of the stairs, I didnât bother that mortals would notice. It was well after midnight and this Metro station appeared empty. I raced down the concrete tunnel, my boots thudding in rhythm to the arriving train. I could smoke faster than run, and did so, insinuating myself onto the train car just as it braked.
The thief jumped on and collided with my chest as I assumed solid human form.
âGotcha,â I said, grabbing her wrist.
Hollering out an impressive karate-like âhiyah!â she kneed me in the groin.
Whoever this guy was, he certainly did not have me. Sexy, though. Even wincing and bent over as he clutched his jewels. Poor thing. I may be tiny and unassuming, but I can wield a punch thatâll knock a werewolf flat. Attribute that to my mortal genes; my father was once a welterweight boxing champion. Add to that the fact Iâve been vampire for ten years and have possessed witch magic for eight, and Iâm the complete danger girl package.
âIs that how you pick up women?â I asked, leaning against the steel pole behind me as the subway car zoomed forward. The guy righted himself, all nearly seven feet of him. A leather choker around his neck clasped a silver circle right over his Adamâs apple. âYouâre cute and all, and my goddess, those shoulders are impressive, but I like my men a touch more romantic. Flowers. Platitudes. Sweet nothings whispered in my ear. Thatâs how youâll win my heart, buddy.â
Sneering, he lunged and gripped my shoulders. My reaction time slowed by observation of his sigh-worthy muscles, he managed to wrap his arms around my chest and arms so I couldnât push him away. Now he seemed impervious to my kicks that landed on his shins. Should have worn my steel-toed Doc Martens, but low ballet flats were necessary when sneaking around.