tactics

I gave the leaf blower one last surge of power and lunged into the Caddy, slamming the door behind me. I dumped Toot down next to Bob as gently as I could.
“What’s happening?” Bob shouted blearily from where he’d landed, sideways, in the well of the passenger seat.
“I’m getting my ass kicked by tiny faeries!” I shouted back, fumbling to start the car. “They’ve got my freaking number!”
There was a loud pop, and a slender miniature steel dagger slammed through the passenger window, transforming it into a broken webwork, as difficult to see through as a stained-glass window.
“Ack!” I said.
Bob started laughing hysterically.
The dagger vanished and then the same thing happened on the driver’s side.
Holy crap, Hook was way too bright for someone the size of a Tickle Me Elmo. He was blinding me.
I got the Caddy into reverse and rumbled back off the sidewalk onto the street, shedding bricks and debris as I went. Just as I bounced down onto the street proper, the front windshield exploded into a web of cracks, too, so I just kept driving backward, turning to look over my shoulder. That went well for a few seconds, and then the rear window broke, too.
I gritted my teeth. Under normal circumstances, the next move would be to roll down the window and stick my head out of it. Tonight, I was pretty sure I’d get a miniature dagger in the eye if I tried.


Cold Days Chapter 12, Page 111-112