Page 58 of Hex and the City
“More or less, like a really rough GPS system. It’s our bond, I suppose. That’s not her talent, though. You saw what she could do, all the flying buzzsaws and shit. Made her an extremely valuable asset to the Brillante clan. Very efficient killer.”
I gulped, second-guessing whether Tina had actually meant to murder me, after all. “And you? Your talent is all diamonds and gemstones. You really are a rich kid. Even your magic is all fancy.”
“Hey, that’s not true! Well, kind of. They tried to drill all sorts of magic into my head, but it didn’t really take. You have to stick to what you’re good at, right? Like you. You’re picked up on your clan’s traditions. Yourbruhostuff, calling out that green fire and such.”
“Yeah, the green fire,” I said, rubbing the front of my arm, forcing the nervous stutter out of my voice.
The man had just hollowed me out from the inside with his cock, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the business with the dragon in my living room. What was I so afraid of? That he’d judge me for agreeing to such a dangerous, volatile pact? That I was taking risky shortcuts for making bigger magic? All of the above, maybe.
“So basically,” he continued, “I had to improvise. I came up with all of my spells myself.”
My mouth fell open. It wasn’t unheard of in the world of the magically inclined. Someone had to have invented the first generic fireball spell, naturally, or the first ritual designed to conjure a supernatural storm. Everyone else adopted and adapted those magics over time, tweaking them to taste. Nothing is original, in a sense, the postmodern paranormal.
But engineering his own spells? That was genius-level shit as far as I was concerned. No wonder his magic was so unique, because he designed each and every spell, custom-made. Holy hell, was that hot.
Like Max said, most every magical person had something that made them especially unique, an exceptional gift beyond the ability to pull spells and fantastical effects out of the fabric of reality. I didn’t realize they could be so subtle — so small, and yet ultimately so big. The man essentially made his own weapons, crafted his own tools. Sexy. Very sexy.
“So that’s your talent,” I said. “Like writing poetry, or composing music, except in your case, it’s making magic.”
Max shrugged. “Practice. Repetition. I’m genuinely incapable of being bored of grinding, doing the same thing over and over. Told you it was boring. I didn’t want you to know because — well, don’t laugh. Because you’d think I’d be less interesting for it. Better the fake mystique than the truth, in this case.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “You won’t believe me anyway, but I think that makes it so much hotter. Experienced with magic, experienced with sex — do you honestly think I wouldn’t find that sexy?”
He folded his arms behind his head, waggling his eyebrows, shooting me a smug smile. “Based on how badly you were begging for it just now, I’d say my opinion on the matter has shifted.”
I smacked him across the chest. He swatted my hand away, laughing as he rubbed at his skin.
“That’s the second time you’ve distracted me with sex, Max. Don’t let there be a third.”
He tilted his head and grinned. Those lips, that silly smile. I’d gotten so used to seeing him glowering that it made my heart skip. “Hmm. That sounds like a challenge to me.”
I frowned. “It really isn’t. If we’re going to make this work, then you should at least make an effort to get me to trust you.”
“Make what work, exactly?” Something flashed in Max’s eyes, an expectant, curious glint.
He’d totally caught me off-guard, but I’d stepped into a trap I’d laid for myself. WhatdidI mean?
“This partnership,” I said, almost stammering as I quickly overcorrected. “I mean, we’ll be seeing this through together, right? The bag thief, the anomalies. All for the Jade Spider.”
“Right, right. Keep it professional. We didn’t pour all this work into that stupid bag of sand just to walk away with nothing.”
I watched as he averted his gaze, those long lashes somehow softening the hardness of his features. Was he disappointed that I’d answered differently, or just tired? And did I really mean a professional partnership, or was some part of me thinking of something else?
“Doesn’t always have to be professional,” I said, putting on a smile to soothe his potentially bruised ego. He seemed to brighten, lifting his chin eagerly. “You know what they say about business. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
Cheesy. Very cheesy. But it worked, and Max was no longer such a dull boy. A lazy smile split his face. He bit the corner of his bottom lip in anticipation. “What did you have in mind?”
I ran my thumb along the veins that traveled down his arms, down to his hands. My gaze fell on his wrist. How could I ever suspect him of being tied to the bag thief, to the anomalies? I read the word printed on his watch’s face, something I’d seen dozens of times on dozens of watches before.
“Quartz,” I whispered.
Max’s forehead furrowed. “Sorry?”
And then it all fell together. The connections whirled through my mind so suddenly it made my head spin, overriding even my appetite for sex. I slapped my hand against Max’s chest. He lurched forward and yelped.
“Holy fuck.” I grabbed his face. “We have to get going. Now.”
“What?” Max blinked at me, leaned up on his elbows, somehow even more disappointed than confused. “But what about round two?”
