Page 33 of All Out of Flux
Max’s car rolled to a gentle stop. The map on his phone suggested that we’d arrived at our destination — this was where we were supposed to meet the client.
“But it’s just a parking lot,” I said, peering out the window in bewilderment. “An empty one, too.”
It was the back parking lot of the Dos Lunas Dome, to be more precise. Think the Hollywood Bowl, or any other major concert venue, only not quite as major. And not quite a venue, either, at least that night. We were the only car in sight, no concert or special event at the Dome, both the building and the parking lot in glistening wet darkness apart from a couple of lampposts.
Max tapped at his phone, checking and double checking both the map and Vera’s messages.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “There’s no one here.”
I pointed through the windshield, my skin rippling with sudden goosebumps. “Unless you count that guy.”
I specified “that guy” only because I recognize the confident stance of the figure standing several paces away from our car, his telltale mask radiant and blazing white in the headlights. It was our good friend, the nameless Masque.
“This asshole,” I muttered. “And here I was just thinking how nice it was that we hadn’t seen him in a while.”
Max cleared his throat. “Actually, we saw him at Habibi the night we went there. Well, I did, at least.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Not that I’m boiling mad about it or anything, but is there some reason you didn’t tell me about this?”
“Didn’t seem important at the time, but it sounds like the same old mysterious Masque shit. He’s trying to catch you conjuring one of your dragons again, I bet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Same old shit is right. But we both know he won’t be catching me dabbling with dragons any time soon. Oh, look at this jerk beckoning like we’re supposed to be all excited to see him. Looking all pompous and trying to be mysterious. Hold your horses. Jerk.”
Max unlocked the car doors. “You don’t suppose he’s actually our client, do you? What the hell? Conflict of interest, much?”
And Max was right, too. A special armistice meant that the Masques generally looked the other way when it came to business among finders and spiders. But to actually seek out our services? Something smelled fishy here.
“Mr. Brillante,” the Masque called out. I could already sense Max cringing, but at least no one was around to hear he wasn’t being called by his preferred name. This Masque really was a piece of work.
“And Mr. Alcantara, too. So lovely to see you both.”
Max grumbled under his breath. I grunted back in agreement. Whywouldn’twe be seen together? We were supposed to be partners, after all.
I glowered as we approached the Masque, my hand held up to protect my hair from the rain. Not enough of it to matter and get us very drenched, but that still depended on how long this jerk was planning to keep us out in the elements making small talk. Forever, knowing him.
“Cut the crap, Masque guy,” I said. A little too loud, maybe, but Max and I were careful to keep our distance. “What’s up with you ordering special deliveries from spiders and finders? Aren’t you supposed to keep everything above board? Wrong app, buddy. Try again.”
The Masque laughed. “This is why I like the two of you so much. It’s the banter. You’re always offering some form of entertainment.”
Max scoffed. “And congratulations on having a smart mouth yourself. You’re obviously our client. Couldn’t you have arranged to meet us somewhere with an actual roof? I’m getting soaked through over here.”
“Correct. I am, indeed, the client.” The Masque turned his hands up and shrugged. “But what’s this? It appears that neither of you are in possession of the very object I’d requested through your lovely spider. Where is the statuette, gentlemen?”
I threw Max a quick glance. We hadn’t worked out this part yet, but we had to keep our story straight. He gave me a small nod, permission to begin.
“So we lost it,” I said. Honesty, my mom used to say, was the best policy.
“I lost it,” Max said, thumping his chest and taking one long step forward. Annoying how he could be so hot stealing the limelight and trying to be the hero, that stupid wet hair clinging to his forehead, the dewy black of his leather jacket. It reassuredme, how I knew I’d be safe at his side — or standing a couple of paces behind him, as was the case.
“I take full responsibility,” Max continued, getting hotter and hotter. “I know we’ve had our differences, but I don’t want this to reflect poorly on Leon as a finder. The spider network should know that I fumbled the bag, not him.”
Huh. Was there some review system for finders and spiders that I didn’t know about? If I found out I had anything less than a five-star rating, I’d be livid. Which, okay, maybe that was somewhat undeserved, but still.
“We lost it together,” I said, stepping up to Max’s side, nodding firmly when he frowned at me. “We’re partners in this, so we share the responsibility. We lost the statuette.”
The Masque reached for his coat’s inside pocket, then pulled out something sandy beige, something about the size of a water bottle. The sight of it made my nostrils flare.
“You mean this statuette?”
