What was I supposed to do after what had just happened—after confirming, once again, that the shadow magic existed within me through some unexplainable means? Was I just going to sit on his sofa in silence and clean a gun that might not ever fire another round? I had to tell someone, even if that someone was my best friend who I currently hated. I could talk to one of those sexy-voiced phone ladies, they were always great listeners. But they cost money, something I didn’t have at the moment. Shit. I needed a job.
Hey! Don’t… don’t you dare judge me right now. Imagine that you just received unbelievable, impossible news, and the only people you wanted to share it with were A) dead, or B) idiotic friends. What would you do? Not tell your idiotic friend the amazing news, just keep it to yourself? I understand that Xander was the worst human currently alive. Was I still pissed at him? Yes. Very much so. But, even more than that, I had a mountainous desire to brag about how I consciously—willingly—chipped a small hole into that layer of ice and used my unexplained shadow magic. I had to tell someone about that, and the bullet points listing my living friends started and ended at one—and even that name had a question mark beside it.
Xander didn’t say a word for about three minutes, probably considering my vengeful feelings toward him and respecting my privacy like a decent human being. I couldn’t keep the excitement bottled any longer. “So,” I said, allowing the dam to break and the flood to spill into the room. Speaking of flooding, Xander had cleaned up the spilled coffee mess from when all his half-empty cups had fallen to the ground after I’d thrown him into the bookshelf. What a nerd. “You know how sometimes my temper gets the better of me? Don’t get me wrong, or mistake that I wasn’t—and still am—incredibly pissed at you. I still might kill you while you sleep, to be honest. I haven’t decided. But after casually and peacefully leaving your office earlier, to find and torture and interrogate an Empousa, I instead found myself in a pretty intense battle with a storefront wall.”
“Wait,” Xander said, rolling his shoulders and straightening his posture, “you went in search of an Empousa? How did you plan on finding one without magic?”
“Really? After lecturing me to get off my ass and do something, you’re now—” I shook my head, raising my good hand to my face, grumbling with annoyance. “Just… listen. In my search to find an Empousa, I was super angry with you, and I was near a wall, so I punched the shit out of it, breaking my hand in the process.” I paused to chuckle.
Xander wore a blank expression and dry-washed his hands.
“Good times,” I said, raising my attention to the ceiling, as if reminiscing. “You should have seen how it looked, though—the wall, that is. Not even a slight crack in its exterior. Took that punch like a damn champion. But I digress.” I slapped my good hand on my thigh. “So, my hand was hurting. My head was throbbing. My back was aching—due to my so-called best friend stabbing me there, and twisting the blade around for good measure. It hurt like a bitch.”
Xander smiled upside down. That silly goose.
“I decided I would take a little snooze in the park,” I continued. “Found myself leaning against an unoccupied tree trunk, and I dozed off into a nightmare, per the usual. Woke up with a massive NRB, if you’re sniffing the same rose as me. That’s when an Automaton appeared and attacked me.”
“Like from yesterday morning?”
“Yes, but a female this time,” I said. “It punted me like a football, sent me flying into the street. Not the best first date I’ve ever been on—but also not the worst. Anyway, thing was about ready to kill me when I decided to consciously use…” I paused to build the dramatic tension in the room.
Xander sat on the edge of his seat and shoved popcorn in his face-hole with anticipation for the climax. How did the hero defeat the bad guy this time?
“…shadow magic. I don’t know how I accessed or used it, but every shadow around me turned malleable. I formed a spike and drove it through that damn Automaton’s stupid head. Then, before I knew better, I stepped through a shadow that dropped me right here.” When I finished my recap, I bounced my right foot on the ground, using my left hand to fidget with the Glock parts while I waited for Xander’s response. My power high had ebbed a little, allowing the incessant tormenting from my injuries to creep back.
His lips murmured unheard words, and his eyes scanned the computer screen. Had he returned to his work after all that? Maybe he was actively trying to die.
“Dude,” I said. “I’m mad at you, remember? It’s not the other way around. You just lectured me about how you can only hear if you know how to listen and blah, blah, blah. And you follow that up by ignoring me?”
“I heard your story,” he grumbled. “Did you control the power?”
I began piecing Henrietta back together—though it proved pretty difficult with one hand. “I don’t know. Adrenaline always makes magic more accessible. When the body hits survival mode, it grasps for anything that will keep it alive. Every time I’ve used the shadow magic, it’s been life-or-death.”
“Try to access it now,” Xander said, eyes still glued to the computer screen.
“What the hell are you reading that’s so important you can’t focus on me?” I set Henrietta and her parts in the duffle bag and stood—grimacing as my ribs tightened where the Automaton had kicked me—and carefully skirted around his desk, hovering over his chair to glean whatever he found so important.
“MIS has a team of world-class hackers,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
