Page 39 of Casting Butterflies

“As if you’ll have a choice,” he scoffed.

“If you lay a finger on me, I’ll scream and have you arrested.”

Grigori smirked. “Do you really think a human jail can hold me?”

Before I could reply, Misha barked, “Move away from the woman, Valefor.”

“Ah, if it isn’t one of the last runts born to your kind.” The man drawled as he pivoted to face Misha.

“Decided you couldn’t wait for your pet to finish its task?” snarled Misha.

“Perhaps if you’d stop interfering…” Grigori taunted.

“Anivivi doesn’t belong to you,” Misha spat.

“As the humans would say, possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

Which led to me interjecting. “Except you don’t have it, I do.”

The chilling glare directed my way brought a shiver. “Not for long.”

“I’ll kill you before I let you have it.” Misha pulled his gun from where he’d had it tucked in the small of his back. No point in asking how he’d managed to smuggle it aboard.

Grigori didn’t look impressed. “Will you really shoot me in front of all these witnesses?” He held out his arms. “Do it. I dare you.”

Sensing a trap, I opened my mouth to warn Misha, who had already raised the weapon and aimed it, which led to people exclaiming as they caught on to the impending violence. Misha wasted no time firing at Grigori.

Who smiled as the bullet passed through his wavering form. A shape that had been solid when shaking my hand but now disappeared as if it had never been present.

Despite there being no body, no blood, nothing, people screamed. A normal reaction to being in close proximity to a gunshot. Panic ensued that included more hollering, pushing, and shoving, as those on deck scurried to safety.

Misha, being a dumbass, didn’t think to put away his gun to mitigate their fear. Oblivious to the chaos he’d sowed, he grumbled, “I should have known that coward would rely on a projection rather than risk himself in person.”

“A what?”

“Basically, a fake version of himself, created by magic.”

“But he looked, felt, and sounded so real.”

“Tricky but not impossible if you have enough magic and skill.”

Meaning Grigori was never actually here. However, enough people had seen him, seen Misha firing point blank, that security quickly arrived and surrounded Misha.

“Put down your weapon. On your knees. Hands on your head.” A uniformed guard for the ferry barked commands in several languages, including English, and Misha, with a wry twist to his lips, complied. As they cuffed his wrists and yanked him to his feet to lead him to the brig, Misha had one last thing to say.

“Try and not die. I’ll rejoin you soon as I can.”

Thus did I end up escorted to my cabin and ordered to not leave by ferry staff, which led to Cedric waking from his nap and sighing, “What did you do now?”

14

At Cedric’s accusatory tone, I indignantly huffed, “I didn’t do anything.” The truth.

“People who do nothing don’t get escorted to their cabins and told they can’t leave it,” he riposted.

“It’s Misha’s fault.” I summarized what happened, and Cedric’s advice when I finished, “When you’re questioned, plead ignorance.”

“I can’t exactly lie about what happened. At least a dozen or more people witnessed Misha shooting Grigori.”