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“Ugh.” I crinkle my nose. “You’re safe with me.”
Dante pulls me into an embrace. “And you’re safe with me.”
I enjoy the hug for a moment, then ask, “Did you get any specific targets for the mall?”
“Yeah. In about an hour, we have to come back here.”
“Lovely.” I flatten my lips in distaste.
“Until then, it’s a free-for-all.”
We make our way around the mall. Since he has more experience, Dante’s better at this whole gig. He watches as a jerk almost knocks an old lady down the escalator in his rush. Dante catches the man’s shoelace in the grate, and the man loses his mind when he panics, thinking that he’s going to be swallowed whole by the machine. After a war with his laces and a bit of damage to his shoe, the escalator grinds to a halt, and the man has to be rescued by the mall maintenance crew.
Dante walks by, and casually, so the jerk can overhear, says, “Serves him right for almost hurting that older woman. Instant karma!”
I glance back and see shame written on the man’s face.
We haven’t run into Kurtis or Evan yet as we make our circuit. However, a horde of mommies with their strollers parade by us. I liken it to a herd of stampeding buffalo.
“You ever want kids?” Dante asks.
“Never felt drawn to the idea,” I confess.
“Me neither. I always worried I would pass on my parents’ crap to my kids.”
“Ditto.” Not that we are probably allowed to have kids being agents, but it’s nice that we are on the same page.
We create a few more acts of karma with spilled drinks and thwarting shoplifters.
Dante checks his phone. “We should make our way over to the food court.”
“I’ll meet you there. I need to use the bathroom.” I point to the conveniently located facilities.
“Don’t ditch me.” He kisses me as he rushes to locate our next mark.
“As if I could!” I say to his retreating backside. I smile, watching his fine assets in his jeans.
I hurry into the bathroom and make sure no one is inside any of the stalls. All clear. I press my hands together in a prayer position. Mentally, I call for the being, the god of death, to hear my call, and send the message that I want to negotiate with them. For good measure, I add that I’m an agent for Karma, and I have questions that might concern them.
I splash some water on my face and then hurry to catch up with Dante, hoping this is a good idea.
I find him eyeing a heavyset man eating a burger. His uniform suggests he’s a mall janitor.
“What’s the sitch?” I ask.
He looks confused. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any sign of him behaving poorly.”
A school-aged girl walks by the janitor’s table, and a stack of hundred-dollar bills drops out of her pocket.
“Oh, here it is,” Dante says hopefully.
Instead of pocketing the hefty sum, the man calls the girl back and hands her the money.
Dante and I look at each other, trying to understand what to do next, but then we hear a cough. The man’s choking, and his face turns red, quickly turning blue.
“What do we do?” I ask, gripping Dante’s hand.
“Good karma?” He flicks his finger, and the man spits out the offending bite of food.
