Page 61 of Hex and the City
“Let’s go around this way,” Leon said, pointing.
He guided us down an archway piercing through the commercial block right next to the clocktower. One archway on either side of Big Gwen, making a tighter, more realistic perimeter for us to cover. A perimeter that also happened to be completely lined with Masques.
All disguised as senior citizens, naturally, in their visors and fanny packs and tracksuits, muttering and motioning as they worked to dispel the anomaly.
Leon elbowed me, leaning in to whisper as we cleared the archway. “You’d think it’d be less suspicious to just have a ring of creepy mask-wearing weirdoes around Big Gwen. At least then you could say there was a cosplay convention in town.”
“Or just say they were theater kids,” I grumbled. “Fucking theater kids.”
“Nothing but old people here,” Leon said, eyes darting to either side. “Whoever this anomalist is, it’s pretty damn brazen of them, trying to pull off this bullshit in broad daylight.”
Something in the world shifted, forming a deep and sudden well of dread in the pit of my stomach. Unnatural forces were at play here. That wasn’t even the right word. What lurked beyond the supernatural?
The air turned colder. It was darker. Not the darkness that came from a passing cloud. Much, much darker.
Night had fallen in Dos Lunas. The clocktower’s face shone in the darkness, the full moon its twin. They burned baleful and bright, like the eyes of some unseen colossus.
Leon’s hand tugged on my jacket.
“Hey, Max? I think we’re fucked.”
27
LEON
Istared at the moon, as full and as round as my open mouth. Holy crap. I knew that mages were capable of ballsy, extravagant feats of magic, but this took the cake. Changing day to night? In full view of the normals, too.
This wasn’t just an illusion, either, and if it was? Kudos to the anomalist for pulling something off that covered all the senses. The air was cooler, the sky totally dark apart from a scattering of stars and, you know, the colossal moon that wasn’t supposed to be out so early. I could still feel that breakfast croissant sitting in my belly, for God’s sake.
“It wasn’t just symbolic,” I said, my gaze flitting between the moon and the great, glowing disc of Big Gwen’s face. “So much of this feels like witchcraft. Sympathetic magic, making something the anchor and the locus of the spell. A lump of coal to start a wildfire, a needle through a doll’s chest for a heart attack.”
“Okay, I really appreciate the lecture in magical traditions.” Max took me by the shoulders, turning me so that we were looking eye to eye. Focus, the gesture seemed to say. “Really, I do. It’ll be an interesting discussion for another time. Right now we have to track down the anomalist, kick their ass, and make this stop.”
“Right, right.” I nodded, banking on the motion to clear my head. “Wait. Is that them, right over there?”
A silly question, in retrospect. A slender figure dressed all in black had emerged from a panel in the wall, one that I never even realized was supposed to be a door. It led up to the clocktower, no doubt, designed to be so seamless that it would blend in with the building.
It was all down to me and Max now. The Masques needed every last agent available to reverse the anomaly’s effects. We had to take this time mage down before they wreaked any more havoc.
Light flashed as the anomalist’s crystal goggles swept across our faces. A momentary tightening in posture, the muscles tensed, a black cat caught in the middle of something nefarious. Without warning, the anomalist took off running.
I tilted into a full sprint, quicker on my feet, but Max kept up well enough with his longer strides. We were running perpendicular to the wall, and therefore the anomalist. Convergence was inevitable, and we’d have a chance to physically confront the bastard. But I still wished we had a plan.
What was our plan? Bodyslam the anomalist when the two of us came within range?
Better than nothing. I clenched one hand into a fist, clenched the other into a dragon’s claw, prepared to summon Tiamat’s flames. From the corner of my eye, Max’s lips muttered smoothly over the single word he used to trigger each of his spells, quick and efficient. Slivers of perfect crystal — no, of arcane diamond — sprouted between his fingers.
Two, three feet away from the anomalist. Up close, that arcane tactical gear really made them look like a magical ninja. Badass, if the person inside those clothes wasn’t so dangerous. I gritted my teeth, raring to unleash the flames. Max raised his shards like a pair of daggers. One foot away. Collision was imminent.
I thought the anomalist had levitated midair, but it was only a quick hop. A quick hop followed by a spinning kick, straight into my chest, knocking the wind out of me, snuffing out the heat of dragonfire building in my body. I staggered away wheezing, wondering if I’d cracked some ribs.
Without missing a beat, the anomalist delivered another kick into Max’s stomach. His weapons fell from his hands as the air rushed out of his lungs, as he doubled over in pain. Okay. So our magical ninja just so happened to be a martial artist, too. Fucking great.
I rubbed at the dull, deep ache in my chest, checking for anything broken. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them wide, fighting to regain my focus. Max coughed and sputtered beside me, spat something dark and red onto the ground. I settled my sights back on the anomalist’s head, on the goggles that suggested the presence of eyes, or a face.
“You’re going down,” I growled.
Light flashed as the anomalist’s crystal goggles swept across our faces. A momentary tightening in posture, the muscles tensed, a black cat caught in the middle of something nefarious. Without warning, the anomalist took off running.
