of portals would be nice. The hellhounds definitely had that perk going for them.
Logan and his crew traveled the old-fashioned way: by car. Or in their case, souped-up SUVs that had arrived without notice at the warehouse they used as a training center. In fact, everything they needed was provided without hesitation. Whoever the oracle was, they obviously had access to cash, and they weren’t afraid to use it.
“Car approaching,” Scout said suddenly.
He’d managed to get relatively close to Logan without giving away his position. His training was paying off.
“Details,” Logan demanded. He’d been working with them on their situation awareness and how to use their enhanced senses to their advantage.
Gideon landed in a crouch near Scout’s position. “Older vehicle from the sounds of it. Needs a tune-up.”
“Small car,” Scout added. “And I smell pizza.”
“Good work,” Logan said. “You’ve earned your dinner.”
Aleron scoffed as Scout leaped from the wall and sprinted toward the door. He returned a few moments later with a couple of large pizza boxes and a tied plastic bag. No doubt Aleron had ordered a few extras for them. The griffin liked to pretend to be a snob where food was concerned, but he liked a fried mozzarella stick as much as the rest of them.
They took the pizzas upstairs to the break room and devoured them without very much talking. It had been a long day, and they’d been training since early afternoon.
“Want to go another round?” Gideon asked.
“No, we’ve done enough. Take the night—” Their cell phones pinged with incoming messages before he could finish his thought. Logan grabbed his and made note of the coordinates. “Scratch that. Looks like we’ve got work to do.”
2
Bailey
The booth at the back of the bar was overcrowded as always, and Bailey’s friends had started drinking without him. His all-black clothes concealed him for a moment, but when they noticed him standing there, a small cheer sounded.
“Bails!”
They squeezed together further, adding enough space for his left butt cheek. Not that he cared. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and tucked it against his chest before squishing himself in beside them.
Ashley leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Heather has a wardrobe malfunction. Please tell me you have a safety pin in your Mary Poppins bag.”
“You know I do.” Bailey dug into the front pocket and pulled out a small tin. He plucked out a couple of different-sized safety pins and handed them across the table.
“You’re my hero,” Heather said. “I knew the button on these shorts was loose, but I thought… Anyway, the zipper won’t stay up without the button and…”
“Don’t worry, Heather,” Joey quipped. “I like you with or without shorts.”
She elbowed him in the side before shoving her way out of the booth. Everyone groaned but shifted around so she could wiggle free and dash toward the bathroom. Luckily they were close to it at the back of the bar, so she didn’t have to worry about getting through the crowded room with her hand clutching her shorts to keep them from falling down.
While he had the bag open, Bailey grabbed a protein bar and handed it to Ashley. “Eat. And that better not be alcohol.”
His glare had her lowering her gaze. “It’s… fine. It’s a drink. Gah, you’re such a dad. How old are you again? Forty?”
“Twenty-four, thank you very much. And I know you don’t like to eat before a show, but you’ve gotta eat right after, Ashley, and not drink booze first. You remember—”
She groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder before he could remind her what happened the last time she’d gone to the bar for a “few drinks” after a show without eating. Needless to say, it hadn’t been a good time for any of them. She reached for the protein bar without any further argument. After ripping it open, she raised her head and took a bite.
“You sure you can’t come back and do another show, Bailey?” The others grew quiet at Joey’s question.
Bailey looked around with a smile. “I’m just the stage manager. You’ll all put on an amazing show without me, and I’ll be there in the audience. You’ll know it’s me ’cause I’ll be the first one standing for the ovation.”
His announcement didn’t please any of them. They’d gotten close over the past year of rehearsal after endless rehearsal. He’d been hired as the part-time stage manager for a local dinner theater and had quickly been promoted to the full-time role. Since the theater worked with