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“They also do the con circuit, but they aren’t here. No loss, in my opinion. Yes, they have good merch. Some nice pieces. But they’re disorganized. Snooty. Expensive. And despite all that, they’re convinced they’re the best vendor at any con.”
She shook her head, but smiled. “Different con, same drama. I certainly hope the store isn’t directly involved. We get enough of a bad rap as geeks and nerds. We certainly don’t need to add murder to the equation.”
“No, we don’t,” Jonah said, taking the phone from her and tucking it away again. “As always, Nan, you’ve been invaluable.”
She blushed, swished her hand in front of her face to downplay the compliment. “You stop it.”
“I’ll call you in a week or two about those bokken we were talking about.”
“I’ll be ready and waiting,” she assured him, smoothing her skirts. “Oh, and here.” She offered up two pens featuring the images of lusty wenches holding very large bastard swords.
“A little souvenir,” she said with a wink. “We look forward to serving your future melee needs.”
* * *
With the Magic Shoppe as a promising lead, we turned toward the exit and began maneuvering through the crowd. We’d nearly reached the door when I stopped short, grinned.
It seemed kismet that the last booth I’d see was an homage to Jakob’s Quest, Jeff’s favorite online role-playing game. Fifteen-foot-tall shelves were filled with green T-shirts featuring the Jakob’s Quest logo, images of the characters in battle, and quotes I assumed were from the game. There were plastic figurines, plush dolls, hats, and even bags of Jakob’s Munch trail mix, perfect for the gamer on the go.
I spied a bobblehead doll of Roland, the brown-haired warrior that Jeff preferred to play. I flicked the head, which, appropriately enough, bobbled wildly.
This had to go home with me. It was possible Jeff already had one; hell, there was a good chance he had one for each character in the game. But since his last office—my grandfather’s basement—had been torched, he probably wouldn’t argue overmuch with a new one.
“Tap the button.”
I turned to find a curvy girl with a crop of bright red hair behind me. Along with her staff credentials, she wore a JQ-appropriate costume: green tunic and tights, soft brown leather boots.
“Okay,” I said, and tapped the square button on the doll’s square plastic base.
“Bravely into battle!” said a digitized male voice. “And victory for all.”
“Oh my God, just take my money,” I said, grinning as I imagined how much Jeff would love it and shoving a wad of bills from my pocket into her hand.
“I’ll grab one that’s boxed,” the clerk said, moving back to the register.
“There you are.” I turned, found Jonah grinning at me. “Have you suddenly become a gamer?”
I answered with another tap of the bobblehead’s button. “Bravely into battle! And victory for all.”
“That’s my counter to that question.”
“Nerd,” he said with a grin.
“It’s for Jeff. I couldn’t pass it up.”
The clerk returned with a plastic bag and change. I tucked the bag under my arm, stuffed the change into my pocket.
“If you’re ready,” Jonah said with a half bow, extending an arm toward the exit.
With an offer like that . . .
We reached the doors, were about to walk through, when a hand gripped my arm. I instantly reached for my katana, and then I looked at the grabber.
She wore black leather pants and a burgundy tank that showed a lot of cle**age. Her hair was dark and straight, with a fringe of bangs and a long ponytail. Her features were voluptuous: apple cheekbones, pert nose, lush lips. In her hand was a plastic katana.
“Dear God,” I murmured, looking over the woman who apparently had tried to look like me.
“It’s not a bad costume.”
I made my way back to her face, found her expression appraising. Her lips were pursed as she looked me over.
“What?” I asked.
“The sword’s a really nice touch—did you get it at Faire Makers?—but I’m not buying the attitude. It’s not really Merit. You should be channeling your inner vampire sex warrior. Like this,” she said, then put her hands on her hips, canted out one leg, and smiled sensually.
“What?” was all I could think to say.
“Maybe a little more cle**age, too.”
“Cleavage.”
She nodded, winked. “A vampire sex warrior can never show too much cle**age.” She waved at a man who gestured to her a few feet away. “Good luck,” she said, before sauntering to greet him.
Jonah joined me, and we watched silently as she stopped to pose with a couple of teenagers in white T-shirts. They took pictures, and she signed their T-shirts and pressed lipsticky kisses to their cheeks while they stared down at her double-Ds.
“You have a doppelgänger,” he said.
“That woman had the balls to tell me I didn’t look like Merit.”
“I doubt she had balls,” Jonah said, smile wide as he took in her enviable curves. “And I told you people would think you’re in costume.”
I humphed. “I’m not in a Merit costume. I’m Merit—the actual Merit. I know how I dress.”
“But you aren’t Merit right now. Not really. Not stalwart, ass-kicking Cadogan Sentinel. You’re in Diana Prince mode.”
“Who’s Diana Prince?”
“Wonder Woman,” he said with a smile. “You’re in an investigation frame of mind, and that shows in your face, your body language. Lose the jacket, unsheathe that sword, and give her the same ragey expression you’re giving me right now, and she’ll see exactly what you’re made of.”
I considered that. “She did say I had a vampire-sex-warrior quality.”
“Since I like my very pretty face just the way it is, I’m going to leave that one alone.”
“Wise choice,” I said, and we left Merit 2.0 behind and headed for the escalator. “There could be Jonah doppelgängers walking around here, too, you know,” I said, when he fell into step beside me.
“There could be.” He smiled cheekily. “And they would undoubtedly be vampire sex warriors.”
I decided it was best not to comment. “I think I need a drink,” I said instead.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I was drinking the smallest bottle of water I’d ever seen, which Jonah had pulled from his glove box. Two good sips and I’d finished it off, but at least we’d made it back to his car, where I very much looked like Merit.
