Page 24 of Hex and the City
The thief pulled the drawstring on the bag closed again, gesturing with one hand. Trails of pale gold light followed their fingers. A quick shake of the hand, a flick of the wrist. The faint outline of golden dust shuddered. My jaw fell to the floor.
Every tile within the border traced by the dust was gleaming again, as if fully renewed. The flower pots were whole. Broken shards reassembled before our very eyes, like they remembered that they used to be pedestals, urns, knee-high statuettes of terra cotta animals.
The dust had affected the plant life, too. Once dead, the magic triggered them into overgrowth. Tendrils, sprouts, and saplings pushed out of the earth. The rapid transformation forced flowers to bloom, grass to grow where there was only dry dirt before.
“Quickening sand,” I breathed. “Rare and precious stuff. If only we knew.”
Leon tapped my shoulder, furrowing his brow. “Don’t you mean quicksand?”
“I said what I said. Quickening sand. It’s used for — well, for making things faster. Look at the plants, fully grown in seconds. Expensive reagent. I don’t even know how they produce it. No wonder the bag was stolen from under us. That stuff is priceless.”
He stroked his chin, nodding along. “But how come the tiles are repaired, too?”
I shrugged. “Never worked with the sand myself. Maybe it can make things good as new. Doesn’t explain why all these anomalies are happening incognito, though. You’d think they’d be saving it to wreak some major havoc.”
Leon elbowed me. “You go and do your thing. Creep up and bonk them in the back of the head.”
“Well, now I’m not so sure. What if I get quickened?” I gestured at myself. “What happens to all of this? Why don’t you try one of your hexes? That witch magic of yours.”
He frowned. “From all the way here? Sure. Could you maybe grab me some of their hair so I can fashion it into a little doll and stick it full of pins?”
I blinked. “You can do that?”
“Get in there,” he grumbled, pushing me. “Get.”
“Fuck, okay, already. Come up behind me. I’m going to need backup. Be ready to terrify them or whatever, if need be.”
He nodded once, firmly.
“Okay.” I knelt by the edge of our broken pot, taking a deep breath. “Here I go.”
I bit on my tongue, swallowing my reflex to cast my spell of semi-invisibility. Sure. I could dissipate, turn myself transparent. Become a walking glass statue, basically. But I didn’t think I trusted Leon enough to let him know about all my tricks so soon, first of all. Not just yet.
And second, the bag thief had their back turned, anyway. If I went lightly on my feet, speedy yet silent, I could maybe even snatch the pouch of sand out of their hands before they even knew what was going on. They were far too busy observing the anomaly.
That was when it hit me, when I almost stumbled. The quickening sand hadn’t just restored that section of plaza. It was taking it through a cycle of renewal and decay, just like the tree in Lunata Park. The tiles and pottery were whole, then shattered, then whole again, tinkling and clinking as they broke and came together over and over.
Even the vegetation rushed and rustled like ancient paper as it bloomed, withered, then bloomed again. The thief knelt, reaching with one hand into the anomaly’s field, timing the growth and restoration of a single flower. They plucked it, pulled it out of the ritual area.
The flower was whole. So was the thief’s hand, unchanged, undamaged.
I hesitated. Who the hell was this person, and how did they just resist the effects of an anomaly in full swing? They brought their flower to the part of their mask where their nose would be, inhaling gently.
“What the fuck?” asked Leon’s puzzled voice.
I cringed. The thief turned to face us. I smacked myself in the forehead. The flower fell from their fingers and back into the anomaly, withered and desiccated on contact.
“Oh, shit.” Leon sprinted out of our hiding spot. “I mean — Emanate!”
A plume of bluish-green fire rocketed from the palm of his hand. The thief hissed, darting away from the path of the flames, the air burning dangerously hot as the fireball soared past and vanished in the thick of the anomaly.
Did I just hear him right? Did he hear me casting my signature spells at some point? Penetrate. Obfuscate. Dissipate. And now Emanate? He was mocking me. Had to be mocking me.
But that magic was very, very real, and very close to lethal. I rounded on him, ready to give him a dressing down, except I knew that raising my voice would call attention, wake up the entire block.
“We don’t want them dead,” I told Leon through gritted teeth.
“I know, I know. Fuck, sorry, I panicked.” He shook his fingers frantically like he was trying to put the fire out, gasping from the heat of the magic. Was this his first time using the spell?
