“Handsome turd,” Daisy muttered. “Ow. I’m going to have a bruise where you keep elbowing me, Sauron.”

“Probably just a ghost. They’re all over this place.” I widened my eyes in an attempt to add some mystery to the lie.

The man laughed.

Yes, I probably could do a little work on the stage act part of it all.

“Anyway, my buddy says that his friend’s aunt saw you once, and you, like, told her exactly what her dead cousin looked and sounded like.” He bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his face now almost as low as the TV trays. “He didn’t mention how hot you are, though.”

The itching between my shoulder blades intensified and warning shivers spread across my skin. Mordecai pushed himself up onto his knees, looking across me off to the right.

“That shifter part of you is starting to shine through, huh?” I asked him, trying to focus on the guy in front of me and having a helluva time. There were some bad people at the freak show and I’d had more than normal interest in my “booth” today. If someone or something was targeting me, I needed to think about an exit strategy. “Does that mean you can run fast?”

“I sense…something.” Mordecai shook his head. “I’ve never felt this sensation before. I don’t know what it means. But I feel aggressive and wary at the same time, and something is telling me the source is over there.”

“Don’t point!” I slapped his hand out of the air. “If someone’s checking us out, pointing will only piss them off.”

“Sweet, are you illegal?” the guy said, and I wanted to club him.

Best just to make him go away.

“Who are you wanting to talk to?” I asked.

“What’s up with that group?” Daisy whispered. Five big guys formed a loose horde beyond the midnight-blue tent just in front of my setup, their shirt sleeves stretched tight over their large arms and their mustaches curled at the ends.

“I don’t know, but they keep looking over here,” Mordecai responded. “That’s not where I sense the danger from, though.”

“Did you see that? That dark-skinned man holding that snake just pointed at us.” Daisy moved off her rug and started rolling it up. “Can you run fast, Mordie? You never answered her. Because I can run very fast.”

“I…was hoping to rid myself of a presence.” The guy was looking at the kids in confusion.

I absently reached for the tarot deck. “Sure.” The snap of cards competed with shrieks of laughter from the midnight-blue tent. The big guys were staring at us pretty openly.

“Beast handlers,” I whispered, ripping my gaze forward. If they were interested in me, that meant they’d somehow found out I’d taken one of their parking spots. But they had more to lose by starting something here, so if I pretended not to notice them, all should be well.

I increased the wattage of my smile to epic proportions and leaned forward, leading with my breasts. The buttons prevented cleavage, but often guys could be swayed by the mere idea of cleavage. “Here.” I held out the cards. “Cut.”

“This is how you see spirits?”

“Nope. That’s how you call them. I don’t see anyone right now—”

“They’re coming this way,” Daisy said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t see anyone,” I repeated, recapturing the guy’s attention. “So either no one is actually bothering you, or the spirit that’s attached to you just isn’t present at the moment.”

“Ah,” he said. “So…how often do you do this stuff?” He gestured at the setup.

Furious tingles scraped along my skin again. I couldn’t help but glance to the side. The crowd moved and shifted, but nothing stood out. If there was danger in that direction, it was lying in wait, hiding within the crowd.

In contrast, the group of beast handlers was now coming at me nearly dead center. They needed only to veer around one booth to reach me. My heart sank at the sight of the approaching wall of muscle.

“Every few months,” I said, forcing a smile at the client. “Daisy, Mordecai, get out of the way.” I breathed evenly, taking the deck back and trying to ignore my jumping heart. The tingle between my shoulder blades was going crazy and my flight reflex was active. “They can’t do anything to me,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. “Not in a public place, and not when I’m with someone. That would reflect badly on the whole outfit.”

“Do they care?” Daisy said in a tight voice.

I sure hoped so.

“Okay, so I’m going to flip a card. I’ll keep going until—” The first of the big guys, six five and stacked with muscle, reached my area. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail and a stupid mustache with the curled edges balanced above thin lips.

“Show’s over,” the guy said gruffly, and cold trickled down my spine.

I batted my eyelashes, not standing. “Is there a problem? I’m with a client.”

One of the other muscle-bound animal guys stopped by said client and grabbed the back of his chair. His tree-trunk arm contracted, and my client tipped forward out of his seat. He reached out to catch himself, grabbing my TV trays and yanking them down with him.

I jumped up. “What’s going on?” I shouted, drawing eyes and, hopefully, the notice of security.

The first guy kicked the downed TV stands out of the way and stepped to my side. “Do you own a puke-brown shitty little Honda?”

I brought my hands to my chest as though ready to clutch my nonexistent pearls. I’d be able to strike out faster if my hands were already up. “Puke-brown shitty Honda. Quite the wordsmith. Hmm. Let me think… Yes. Why?”

A couple of the guys crowded in, yanked the TV trays up from around the scrambling client, and flung them to the sides. They clattered across the cement and nearly smacked into the setup of the medium next to me. She and her client startled and half stood.

Mordecai bent to grab one of the TV trays, his blanket coming free from his shoulders and blowing to the ground.

“No!” I held out a hand. Daisy froze in the act of rushing to help him. “Leave it. Stand down.”

“Do what she says if you know what’s good for you,” the lead muscle said.

“Calm down, Mustache. Don’t trouble yourself with trying to threaten multiple defenseless persons. You look like you could use a break.”

“My boss wants me to deliver a message.” Mustache leaned down in my face.

I grimaced and blew out a breath. “Holy smokes. Does your diet consist solely of raw garlic, or what?”

“Stay out of his parking spot,” he seethed.

One of his friends threw one of my rugs toward the water. It thunked down far away. He ripped the remaining TV stand from the ground before beating the cheap metal frame against the cement walkway. Another guy looked around at the chairs.

“I found all that on the street, lug nuts. You think this is my first rodeo?” I waited patiently, easily hiding the adrenaline and fear running rampant through my body. Because no, it wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew how to present myself to bullies, no matter how stupid their facial hair.

“Do it again, and you’ll be the one smashed on the ground,” Mustache said, blowing his hot breath stench into my face.

“Except…no, I won’t.” I picked at a button on my shirt to keep my hands up, unfortunately not able to hide my shaking.

This was when it would seriously be nice to have some useful magic. Because even if I was queen of the Ghost Whisperers, and had an army of spirits following me around, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to help me besides drain a little energy from my attacker.

I looked over the enormous muscle layering the gigantic frame.

Nope, not a damn thing they could do to help. Not against the five very real guys huddled around my area, waiting to do me harm.

The best I could do was try to keep a cool head.

“Despite my magical blood,” I said, “I am protected in this establishment by the Articles of Coexistence, section thirty-two point eight. I have all the necessary, up-to-date paperwork. I am at least four feet from any other stall, and even if I wasn’t, I was here first. I parked in a space that was not clearly marked reserved. Said space had no signs or paint informing me that I might not be able to park there. Therefore, there is no official claim on that space, and it is governed by the first come, first served policy. I was there first. It is mine. You are welcome to take me to court. Or to petition with the governing body of this fair. Both have been attempted. Both have failed. But still, with your impressive powers of oration, you might stand a chance.” I stared at him with watering, unblinking eyes (the breath was intense), letting that sink in. “Oh. And by the by, you wrangle magical beasts, do you not? Did you know that’s illegal? It’s a punishable offense if you can’t prove their origin and come up with a sales document verifiable by the magical governing body. Do you have…such a document?”

I resumed my stare, letting that enormous bluff work its way through his thick skull. They likely did have a fake sales document, and no one would press them to go to the magical governing body. Still, it never hurt to remind these guys that they weren’t the top of the food chain. Not when dabbling with magical people. Not even close.