Page 32 of Hex and the City
“Whoa, okay,” I said, apparently the only one who was thinking clearly. “We don’t want any trouble. I don’t have much, but you can have it.”
“I said fucking hand it over,” the man said, louder this time, harsher. His teeth gleamed in the meager streetlight. Same as the barrel of his gun.
Something else was giving off light, though. A tattoo on his neck. Some kind of geometric shape. Wait a minute. Was this guy magical?
“Hold up,” I said. “I mean, I realize this is a holdup, but aren’t you part of the arcane underground? Why the gun, man? Whatever happened to a good old magic wand, maybe a sweet ritual dagger?”
Max quirked an eyebrow at me. “Leon, what the fuck are you — shut up and let me handle this, okay?”
The man cocked his gun, getting more desperate and agitated by the second. “I don’t care if you’re vampires or wizards or what-the-fuck-ever. Just give me all your goddamn money.”
I gritted my teeth. This guy wasn’t going to listen to reason. No sense appealing to what we held in common, either, even trying to hint at our shared existence on the border between the mundane and the magical. I breathed steadily, focusing on the sensation of fire in my veins.
This time I wasn’t acting on impulse, not simply flinging dragonfire at random. No. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I reached into the depths of my psyche, preparing to call on Tiamat’s might.
And then Max extended his arms, his fingers loosed, primed for spellcasting. The man flinched. Oh, snap. Here it was, a taste of Max’s magic.
Wait. What was he doing? Shadow puppets? Max made a shape with his hands, his middle fingers meeting at an angle to form an upside-down triangle, his index fingers closing off the shape at the top with a continuous line. An inverted pyramid, it looked like. Or, weirdly enough, the gem emoji. A gemoji?
He raised his hands to his face, placing the shape over his eye. White light traced the outline formed by his fingers, his own eye glowing with arcane radiance. The light faded, and the strange, sweltering man beat a hasty retreat.
I threw my hands up. “Okay. What the fuck just happened?”
“Protective spell.” Max shrugged, cracking his knuckles like he hadn’t just scared off an armed robber. “No big deal.”
I flung my hand at the spot where the man was standing. “He ran out of here like he’d seen the devil himself. What did you do to him?”
“Didn’t I just say? Protective spell.” Max’s scowl deepened. “I scared him off, didn’t I?”
“So it’s like warding off evil?” I asked, struggling to copy the thing he did with his hands. “You know, by showing him your own version of the evil eye.”
“Yeah, sure. Why not? Something like that.” He shrugged again, infuriating, yet sexy, the way his shoulders hitched, the way it made his shirt and leather jacket hug the tight muscle of his body.
“Show me how you did it. Seems useful.” The tip of my tongue stuck out past my lips as I fumbled the gesture yet again. “Like this?”
His chuckle came out as an amused, almost derisive snort. “Not even close. Besides, it’s not for you to use.”
“Well, why not? What’s that supposed to mean?” I tangled my fingers, twisted my wrists. “Okay. Like this?”
“No,” he growled. “Stop it.”
“How about this?” I asked, showing him both my middle fingers.
“Very cute, Leon. Real mature.”
He walked past me, checking me with his shoulder, hard enough that it nearly knocked me off balance.
What a jerk. With shoulders like boulders, and a jawline that could cut glass.
Stupid, sexy jerk.
16
MAX
Close call back there. Dos Lunas really was going down the toilet. Time was when a guy could walk the streets without getting harassed by an armed bandit.
Of course, time was when those in the arcane underground dealt with these things far more harshly. Guy could have ended up a one-armed bandit, and not the coin-dispensing casino kind. I didn’t necessarily agree with how the Masques dealt with everything, but I had to admit that they helped plenty in keeping the peace.
