Page 57 of Outlaw Witch

“I made it myself,” I tell Sebastian, standing up to show him the buckle. It’s fused together out of a bunch of old wire and a ton of buckles.

“Huh,” he says, still inspecting it more closely.

“You made it?” Fabian probes.

I nod. “Yep. I have my very own soldering iron and everything. I spend my days off wandering around flea markets and places that sell scrappy bits of jewelry and then make something new out of it.”

“How did you get into doing that?” he asks.

“Yeah, it seems a lot more effort than just buying new stuff that’s not made out of trash,” Sebastian says, earning him an exasperated glare from his big brother.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever had the money to throw around on new stuff. Most of my clothes are thrift store finds.” I shrug. “Plus, it feels good making something out of nothing.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian’s eyes spark with interest and an idea strikes me.

“If you’re feeling bored, maybe I could bring my iron down with me next time I visit and we can see what crap we can create together,” I say.

“Seriously?” he says. “You’ll come back down here?”

“Sure. It’s relaxing for me. I could come down whenever I’m free and need a break from these guys.” I nudge Fabian in the ribs, but he doesn’t react and then I worry I’ve overstepped. Shit, maybe he doesn’t want me offering to come and hang out with his teenage brother. I probably should have checked he was cool with it first.

Seb shoots me an appraising look. “You ever played video games before?”

“Uh, not really,” I reply.

“Nice.” Seb grins at me. “You wanna play now?”

“Sure?” It comes out as more of a squeaked question than anything.

Seb then beams at me and it’s a totally unguarded expression, free from any irony or need to be seen as cool that you get with kids his age. I glance at Fabian and catch him looking at me with an indecipherable expression.

The three of us then settle down and Seb proceeds to trounce both Fabian and me at some game that involves a whole lot of zombies and some seriously gruesome cut scenes.

By the time we’re done, my eyeballs and thumbs are aching. I’ve also been called a ‘noob’ more times than I can count.

When I eventually stand up, ironing out the kinks in my neck, I have five unread messages from Roscoe.

“Shit. Seems like the guys found something,” I say.

Three are photo messages, which I avoid looking at. I don’t need another random image of his abs to add to the collection he’s been sending me nonstop over the past few days.

The fifth is all emojis, since Roscoe texts like a twelve-year-old girl. I snort and ignore that one too, focusing on the one message that says anything meaningful.

Master of Illusion: Hope you’ve got your suction boots and spy suit polished, baby. The Dream Team is ready for action tomorrow. Pick you up first thing. I’m excited!

I’m not entirely sure when he changed his contact name, but it shows I need to keep a better hold on my phone when I’m around him.

I hand over the phone to Fabian and watch as his eyebrows shoot up. “Sounds like they’ve found a way into the stacks.”

I guess we’re making a trip to the city library.

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