God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords by John Conroe Page A

different,” I said.  They frowned, beginning to get angry at all the mystery.  I glanced at Stacia, and she gave me a little nod.
     
    “It’s called Arcane.  It’s very small and very… specialized,” I said.
     
    They waited, but I didn’t elaborate. 
     
    “How specialized?” Joni finally asked.
     
    “A third of the kids turn furry under a full moon, a large percentage of the girls can kill you with a whisper, and Stephen King would be right at home,” Stacia said.
     
    “Kill you with a whisper?  You talking witches?” Aleesha asked, eyes wide.
     
    “Bingo,” Stacia said.
     
    Aleesha whipped around to me.  “You go to school with witches?” She looked truly scared.
     
    I nodded.
     
    “Like real spells and curses witches?” she pressed.
     
    “Yes,” I said, waiting to see what would come of it.
     
    “Don’t you know you don’t mess with no damned witches?  Not ever!” she said, looking into my eyes to make sure I was getting it.  Beside her, Grace looked uncomfortable, but Joni looked mad.
     
    “Bullshit!  That’s a bunch of superstitious crap,” Joni said.
     
    “Oh?” Stacia asked, her voice a little deeper, making me sit up.  “Like werewolves are just legend?”
     
    “Well I’ve never seen a werewolf, just grainy video, so as far as I’m concerned, the jury is out,” Joni challenged, confirming that she was a secret badass who was about to die a horrible death.  After Washington, the whole world knew there was at least one werewolf and now she was standing six feet away.
     
    Stacia’s eyes went yellow—bright, glowing yellow, and her skin seemed to ripple. All three girls sucked in a breath and Joni pushed back. I jumped up.  “Okay, on that note, we’re leaving.  You guys keep this table; we’ll just head over here,” I said, stepping away from my chair, keeping my body loose and facing Stacia’s, which pulled her attention to me and a little away from Joni.  As I intended. 
     
    A foolish person in this situation would possibly touch the werewolf to pull them away from the challenge. A foolish person might then lose an arm, ripped clean from its socket. Aunt Ash didn’t raise any fools, so I just used my posture and body language to capture more of Stacia’s focus.  Sudden, decisive movement does wonders for a predator’s attention.
     
    The waiter was headed our way but slowed as he took in the tension.  I caught his eye.  “Miss Reynolds and I need a different table.  And some sliced roast beef, maybe a half cow’s worth.”
     
    Stacia looked from me to the waiter, then back.  She frowned as the words worked through her anger, then she took a breath and turned abruptly from all of us and strode across the room to a different table, where she pulled out a chair and sat down, back to us.
     
    “Remember the whole stare in the eyes and challenge thing?  I said don’t do it.  First lesson failed.  Enjoy lunch.” And then I went to sit with my pissed-off werewolf friend.
     
    “I wasn’t going to pull anyone apart you know,” Stacia said, doing exactly that to a roll. 
     
    “Well, I’m used to teenage werewolves who freak out easily, but for what it’s worth, I didn’t think you would, either.  Mostly, I thought it might be a teachable moment to your summer staff,” I replied, grabbing a roll for myself.
     
    “Idiots,” she said.
     
    “Narrow world views.  Sometimes the really smart ones have a hard time adjusting to something that implies they don’t know everything,” I said.
     
    The waiter showed up with a platter of thinly shaved roast beef, approaching from behind me, putting it down gingerly along with a menu for Stacia.  “Sir, shall I bring the rest of your order when I bring Miss Reynold’s?”
     
    “Yeah, that’d be great.”
     
    “I’ll be back in a moment, Miss Reynolds, to take your order,” he said.  She just nodded, frowning at the pile of beef between us.
     
    I reached over and grabbed a