Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus

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I HATE BEING FOLLOWED. I especially hate being followed by a bunch of lunatic adults playing at being occultists. Unfortunately, the Black Sunners were out in full force today. I'd spotted the first one on High Street, and by the time I'd reached the Alcazar Theater, there were two more on my tail.

I glanced at the sparse crowd waiting outside the rundown theater, my heart sinking when I saw that Sticky Will wasn't there yet. Not knowing what else to do, I got in line for the ticket window, then checked to see if the men would follow. one leaned against the building across the street, and another one lounged against a lamppost, pretending to read the paper.

"If you aren't going to purchase a ticket, get out of the way," a coarse voice said.

I pulled my gaze away from my pursuers to find the woman in the ticket booth glaring at me. While my attention had been focused elsewhere, the line had moved forward, and it was now my turn. "Sorry," I muttered, setting my coin on the counter.

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