Page 27 of Hex and the City
I squeezed the bridge of my nose, knowing we were screwed one way or another. “Look. Both Max and I were after the same item for the same job, and this thief — this anomalist swept in and snatched it from us.”
The Masque folded his arms, the light of the little screen vanishing from his hand. “So what you’re telling me is that the two of you are directly responsible for enabling these anomalous events.”
“No, wait, far from true.” Max held up his hand. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work. Whoever that person is — if it even is a person — they’re the ones setting off these events throughout Dos Lunas.”
“Multiple events?” The Masque tilted his head. “Then you’re aware of the first one as well. Over at Lunata Park. Oh, look at me, playing coy. You were there on the same night. Both of you.”
Busted. Fuck. So the Masques saw us, after all.
“Look, we’ve been honest with you this entire time.” Max lowered his chin, his eyes boring into the Masque’s brain. “We want to stop this anomalist creep just as much as you do.”
The Masque chuckled. “And yet you knew the locations of both anomalies as they occurred, and in fact, were present on both occasions. I find it amusing that you think we’ll accept your statement as truth.”
“And I find it amusing that you’re chitchatting here with us when you could be helping your friends track down an actual dangerous criminal.”
Whoops. Those words had come from my lips. It was the first time I’d seen a crack in the Masque’s cheerful façade.
Two steps. That was all the Masque did, take two steps forward. Somehow his presence seemed to swell, filling the courtyard. Nothing was stopping me or Max from knocking his ass on the ground and making a run for it, and yet neither of us budged. Something about this guy held us transfixed.
“Listen well, Mr. Alcantara. Our treatment of you and your partner here has been more than cordial. You need to remember that we are doing all we can to support the safety of humanity.”
An intense heat seized my skull, burning against the back of my eyes. I tensed my muscles, struggling to hold it all in. I recognized the sensation. It was the same fire from when Tiamat had sealed our pact.
“Only humanity?” her voice asked.
My blood ran cold, and yet the fire burned so hot. Tiamat really was riding my body, or at least some part of her was. I could see her flames in the back of my head, brilliant and bluish-green. Anyone looking into my eyes would have seen the dragonfire — must have seen the dragonfire.
Yet all I could think of was my first Emanation. The fight against the anomalist — I didn’t know what I was thinking. The reflex took hold of my muscles, but instead of a fear hex, a sleep charm, it was Tiamat’s fire that came rushing out of my skin.
And it felt fucking amazing.
I clenched my fists, holding her back, holding myself together. The pain subsided as quickly as it had come. I held still, wondering if the Masque noticed. But he said nothing, only taking a brisk step back, showing us the brightness of his teeth with a new smile.
“Gentlemen? I’ll leave you to it. Feel free to call me if you think of anything.”
Max’s forehead wrinkled. “But we don’t have your — ”
The Masque vanished, every part of his body fading, leaving the alabaster crescent of his face suspended in midair. And then, like the waning of a moon, it disappeared, too.
“What an ass,” I muttered. “Cool magic trick, but still, what an ass. And how the hell are we supposed to call him, exactly?”
Max frowned harder, his hand slipping into his pocket, feeling around. He pulled out a piece of something that resembled the material of the Masque’s, uh, mask. Wait. Was my pocket heavier, too?
“Son of a bitch,” Max breathed, eyes flitting between the matching bits of rock in each of our hands. It was alabaster. It had to be.
I forced my lips to stay shut even as fiery glyphs burned themselves into the surface of the alabaster. Oh, just numbers. Or a whole phone number, in fact, a way to contact the Masque. I blinked at the chunk of alabaster, my mouth falling open when I realized something.
We didn’t even know the bastard’s name.
14
MAX
The rich, gorgeous aroma of coffee hit me in the face as soon as we walked into the café. Plenty of bare wood and natural fibers for decor, the better to blend in like a regular coffee shop. The sound of drums streamed in through little speakers positioned in every corner of the ceiling. An African djembe at times, or the rapid-fire slap of the Indian tabla. Once, it was Japanese drums, the taiko, as big as barrels, as deep as thunder.
A personal favorite, and I told the owners — some of my very best friends in the world — that they didn’t play that recording enough. The boys had incredibly eclectic taste in music, part of why we got along so musically. Well, most of the time, at least.
It wasn’t an especially busy day in the café, though business was generally quite brisk no matter the day of the week. This was a place where people of a supernatural bent, human or otherwise, were free to indulge in a coffee, maybe a cookie and some cake, without fear of persecution.
