I stared at the woman as she reclined against the display, smiling grimly at me, though her chest had to hurt. “Got you, Morgan,” she said breathily as she held her middle, bits of lettuce in her hair. “You’re not such a badass. We got you.”

And who is we? “I don’t work for black-arts witches,” I said, not liking the tight feel of the strip against my skin. “I don’t care what you heard.”

“Black witch?” she panted, shoving me back so she could get up. “That’s a laugh. Let’s go.”

“You just don’t get it,” I said, disbelieving. “Zip strip or not, I’m not going!”

The woman’s eyes darted behind me at Ivy’s soft scuff. Fingers dipping into her pocket, she flung out her hand and threw what was probably a splat ball.

“Ivy, no!” I shouted, spinning, but I was too late. True to form, Ivy had caught it, breaking the thin skin and soaking her hand. For an instant I thought it might be okay, but then Ivy gasped. Fear slid through me on seeing her fist covered in a black goo that crawled up her arm, growing as it went. What in hell?

“Dunk it!” I shouted, pointing to the lobster tank. “Ivy, douse it in saltwater!”

The watching employees shouted their approval as the living vampire ran to the meat department. Ripping the top off the tank, she shoved her arm in up to her elbow. Water sloshed out, and the fear etched on her face eased. Turning, she looked at the small woman—and smiled to show her pointed teeth. It was about to get nasty.

Skirt swaying and hair mussed, the woman backed up, but the eager look on her face as she mumbled Latin told me she wasn’t afraid. Her hands were moving in ancient ley-line gestures. I had seconds to keep her spell from completion.

“That was a mistake, bitch,” I said softly. Scooping up a melon, I threw it at her, trying to break her charm before it was set. She ducked, flinging a glowing ball of reddish ever-after as she fumbled for her footing. I dove to escape her charm, spinning to see it hit the tile with a hissing sound. My eyes widened at the sight of a putrid-looking mass of seething bubbles growing larger by the second, bubbling evilly. What is she throwing? That can’t be legal! But by the look of savage eagerness on her face, I didn’t think she cared.

“Who the hell are you!” I shouted.

“Dilatare!” she shouted, invoking her next curse right before she slipped on the squished lettuce and went down with a pained-sounding grunt. Her magic, though, had been loosed.

“Fire in the hold, Ivy!” I shouted when the woman frantically scrabbled away from the glowing ball of unfocused magic, diving behind an apple display. Her magic drifted like a ball of lightning until it rolled under the strawberries, where it exploded.

Employees screamed. Red stuff went everywhere. I ducked as sodden splats and thumps of containers rained down.