Page 35 of Hex and the City
Alcantara magic was meant for amplifying what already existed. Turn little fears into large nightmares. Turn a stray yawn into slumber. If we’d caught her napping, the salt might have deepened her sleep, bought us enough time to poke around the place.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to call Tiamat out to help. I still hadn’t fully manifested her power, but I already knew that she wouldn’t be very helpful unless I was planning to burn the whole shop to the ground.
And there was that other problem. I’d spotted a couple of security cameras on the premises. Made perfect sense, since they were selling expensive items that could very easily fit inside pockets. Was Max seriously prowling around in there, fully knowing that they could be recording him?
No. He was too smart for that. And he was a mage, too, with one or two tricks up his leather sleeve. I just wished I knew what those tricks were. I pulled out my phone again, beyond tempted to send him a text message asking him to pick up the pace.
Max seemed like exactly the kind of guy who permanently had his phone on silent, but it wouldn’t matter either way. The lady at the counter presumably still had her earpiece jammed an inch away from her brain, the better to listen to her recordings of aggravated wasps.
“Happy thoughts,” I murmured. “Bright, happy thoughts. Sandy beaches. Tank tops and sandals. Max in bikini briefs.”
I flinched at the realization of what I’d said before I flinched as the shop’s lights suddenly went out. Did he cut the power? I scrambled, shoes scraping on the asphalt as I ducked behind Max’s car. The glass door clinked open, then shut again.
Oh. The lady with the permanent earpiece was locking up. Finally, she could go home and get a good night’s sleep while listening to her white noise machine that only played recordings of root canals.
Sorry, sorry. She was kind of mean, okay?
My phone buzzed. A message from Max.Come over.I almost snorted at how much it sounded like a booty call. An unintentional one, but still. I squinted across the street, gauging whether this was a good idea. The cameras were one thing. Surely they had a security system installed, too.
But as I crossed the street, I saw the silhouette moving about inside the store. Max was just strolling around casually. The alarms weren’t triggering, as if the motion sensors didn’t care about his presence. Strange. Interesting.
And really kind of hot. Nothing sexier than a guy who could get the job done.
I frowned at him through the glass door, feeling chillier than ever. The lock clicked. The door opened. And still no blaring alarms. Very impressive — not that I was going to tell him that.
“About time you let me in,” I hissed. “It’s so cold out here. Why are you in a tank top?”
He shrugged, pointing at his leather jacket draped over the edge of the counter. “Because it was warm in here. Get in, already.”
And I did, hearing the lock click shut behind me again, as well as the telltale tinkling of something that sounded like glass. I snuck a look at Max, catching the gleam of long and slender things in his hands.
“Lock picks?” I asked.
He gave me a loose smile. “Something like that.” He tossed them into the air. They didn’t fall again, only vanishing when they reached the peak of his throw. “Penetrate. That’s the word I use to conjure them.”
“Why not infiltrate?”
“Because you can use them for stabbing, too.”
Something dangerous and decidedly sexy flashed in his eyes, as if he’d actually done that before. I tried not to get distracted as my mind began to fit puzzle pieces together. Not very successfully, mind, but those lock picks definitely looked like slender slivers of crystal.
And where had I just seen those?
I rubbed my arms to help me warm up, then gestured around us. “And the cameras? The security system?”
Max grinned, so happy for the opportunity to show off that he puffed his chest out. Streetlight pierced the windows, tracing incandescent slashes along the length of his torso. Those ridiculous muscles. God. How I survived an entire night in a motel room without jumping him, I’d never know.
He held one hand by his mouth, his palm upturned like he was about to blow a kiss. His bicep bulged.
“Obfuscate.”
Again with the tinkle of glass, only much fainter this time. A little mound of sparkling matter had appeared in his palm. Like ground glass, or pulverized crystal. He inhaled softly, then blew.
I held my breath, worried that I would breathe in the particles and shred my lungs somehow, but they disappeared completely, melding into the air.
“Like chaff,” he explained. “Confuses electrical systems. The cameras will see static, and the motion sensors won’t see shit.”
I started a slow clap, watching as his shoulders broadened. Cute, but again, this wasn’t a time to get all distracted. Crystal slivers for lock picks, and some sort of diamond dust?
