Camille stopped at the corner so abruptly that her girlfriends bumped into her. "Hey, why'd you stop?"
Camille ignored the question. She surveyed the street ahead very carefully. Streetlights and lighted storefronts illuminated it well. It was empty, no pedestrians and few parked cars, but her skin crawled to look at it. She hadn't glimpsed motion out of the corner of her eye--she'd have recognized that. There was nothing visible to suggest that there was any danger there.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her third eye, the one tattooed on the palm of her left hand. She flashed her palm at the street, looking for trouble. The tattoo would have worked better on her forehead but she wasn't prepared to live with that. She saw faded remnants of past magic, but nothing dangerous.
There was still no way she was going down that street tonight. She'd learned to trust her instincts. "C'mon," she said, turning and extending her arms to herd her friends before her. "Let's go back to the bar for another drink." And when we leave again, we'll walk a different direction.
"No." Naturally Susan had to choose this moment to demonstrate her independence. "I'm going home. Early day tomorrow."
"Okay," Camille said. No use fighting her about it. Maybe she could steer her another way. Betsy had remained silent, watching the battle of wills without taking sides. "Let's walk down Hawthorne, a block over."
"No!" Susan had her back up now. She eased away and moved past Camille, jaw set. "I'm going this way."