Read Kate Daniels 03 - Magic Strikes for Free Online Page B

as a shoote . . .” Andrea glanced at the street and fell silent. Her eyes narrowed. She looked completely focused, like a hawk sighting a plump pigeon. If she’d had a rifle in her hands, I’d have been worried she was about to snipe somebody.
    “Can you believe it?”
    I looked in the direction of her stare and saw Raphael. The werehyena loitered across the street, a tall man with coal-black hair, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. His hands were thrust in his pockets and he shouldered a backpack. He saw us looking at him and froze. That’s right—you’re so busted.
    “I think he’s stalking me.” Andrea glared.
    I waved at Raphael and motioned him over.
    “What are you doing?” Andrea ground out through clenched teeth. Her face went pale, and I could almost see the faint outlines of spots on her arms.
    Raphael attempted a weak smile and headed toward us, zeroing in on Parthenon’s doors.
    “I want to find out if he knows anything about the Midnight Games. He’ll tell me anything if you let him sit with us. I think he really likes you.”
    An understatement of the year. Raphael carried a huge torch for Andrea. During the flare, when she nearly died, he had bent over backward to take care of her.
    “Yeah.” Andrea loaded so much scorn into one word, I actually paused.
    This was one of those thin-ice areas of friendship, which had a great potential for dumping me into freezing water. “You really don’t like him?”
    A shadow crossed Andrea’s face. “I don’t want to be his TWT-IHFB.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “That Weird Thing I Haven’t Fucked Before.”
    I choked on a bite of gyro.
    Raphael chose that moment to emerge from the door. Pissed or not pissed, Andrea watched him as he walked toward us and so did I. I practically dislocated my shoulder twisting in my seat so I could catch a glimpse. He moved with an easy shapeshifter grace, a kind of inborn elegance usually reserved for highly trained dancers and martial artists. His black hair, worn down to his shoulders, moved as he walked, absorbing the sunlight. His skin was tan, and his face . . . There was something so interesting about him. Taken by themselves, his features were unremarkable, but put together they somehow combined into an intensely attractive face. He wasn’t handsome, but he drew your gaze like a magnet, and his eyes, deep, piercing blue, were positively smoldering.
    You looked at Raphael and thought sex. He wasn’t even my type and I couldn’t help it.
    Raphael stopped a few feet from our table, not sure what to do next. “Hello. Andrea. Kate. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
    I turned back to the table and heard my back pop. That would teach me.
    “Sit down,” Andrea hissed.
    Raphael gently lowered his backpack with one hand, took the only remaining free chair, and sat, looking a bit on edge. Andrea stared at the street. Together they looked like complete opposites: Andrea was five-two tops, with short blond hair and lightly tanned skin, while Raphael was about six feet tall, with skin the color of coffee with lots of cream, black hair, and intense eyes.
    “So what’s in the backpack?” I asked. Small talker. That’s me.
    “Portable m-scanner,” Raphael said. “Picked it up from the shop. Been in there ever since the flare—they couldn’t test to see if it worked until a magic wave hit.”
    When it came to m-scanners, “portable” was a relative word. The smallest weighed about eighty pounds. It was good to be a werehyena.
    Andrea got up. “I’m going to get some dessert. Kate, you want anything?”
    “No,” I said.
    “You?”
    “No, thank you,” Raphael said.
    She marched away.
    Raphael looked at me. “What am I doing wrong?”
    I paused with a piece of pita bread in my hand. “You’re asking me?”
    “I don’t have anybody else to ask. You know her. You’re friends.”
    “Raphael, I’ve never had a steady boyfriend in my entire life. It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex. And