“Thank you so much for supporting our business,” Olivia said, clasping her hands together. “Right, Timothy?”
Timothy mumbled something indistinct.
“And thanks for lending us the journal,” Asher said. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I trust you will,” Olivia said. “Maybe we’ll see you in town again soon?”
“Maybe,” I said, smiling, collecting one of the two crates Timothy had sullenly thrown together. “See you around, Olivia. Bye, Timmy.”
Sweet Timmy really did look like he wanted to put his fist through my face. Frankly, he was built like he could do it, too. Gil picked up the second crate of fruit, and we left the stall, wandering back off through the parking lot.
“Couldn’t you have come back sooner?” Gil growled, when we were far enough away.
“Oh, hush,” I said. “You and Timmy looked like you were getting along just fine.”
“Ass.”
“That guy really didn’t like you at all,” Asher said absently, squinting at the pages of the journal by the light of lampposts.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” The night market was winding down, only a few stalls left open. “I guess we showed up a little late, huh?”
“Just as well,” Asher said, abruptly snapping the journal shut. “If we’re going to be visiting a graveyard, then we definitely don’t want anyone seeing.”
I stretched out my arms, my leather jacket squeaking, my joints popping. “Maybe we’ll run into a grave keeper or something, at most. A late night snack.”
Asher stopped walking. “A what?”
I yawned, looking at him sidelong. “What did I say?”
Gil groaned. “He’s in hamburger mode.”
“What are you even saying right now?” I snarled, fiddling in my pockets for the car keys, then realizing with annoyance that Gil still had them.
“Hamburger mode,” Asher echoed. “It’s when you’re so hungry that even the things you say start to slip. You said the grave keeper was a late night snack.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, then at Gil. “I’m a little offended that you two have developed your own secret language without me. Also, a slip of the tongue still doesn’t explain why you call it hamburger mode.”
Gil chuckled, clicking the key button from a distance, the car doors unlocking with a gentle beep. “Is everyone starting to look like a cartoon hamburger to you? Like a walking chicken drumstick?”
I clenched my teeth in frustration. My friends knew me too well. “Fuck you guys. Bunch of jerks.”
An apple flew out of my crate, levitating right before my very eyes. I almost dropped the whole thing when my reflexes caused me to lunge for it, but it bobbed just out of reach, floating towards the hood of the car.
There, waiting, was the biggest actual jerk of them all. He fixed me with sharp eyes as he bit into the apple with perfect teeth. He licked juice from his lips, winked, then favored me with a smile that could rival my own.
“Been a long time, gentlemen,” said the telekinetic asshole sitting on the hood of my car.
My lips drew back, murderous old instincts simmering in my blood. “Sebastion Brandt. How lovely to see you again.”
17
It wasn’t, in fact, lovely to see Sebastion. Not very lovely at all. His presence in Silveropolis meant a few very important things. First, it meant that the Lorica was getting involved. Second, it meant that dark magic was afoot.
Sebastion took a second bite of the apple. He chuckled into his mouthful, relishing both its sweetness and my irritation. My keen eyesight could spot the juice dribbling down the vein of his wrist. I licked my lips. I loved Gil and Asher from the very hollows of my bones, but fuck them both for knowing me as well as they did. I really was in hamburger mode.
“What do you want, Bastion?” I said, sighing wearily as I loaded my crate into the trunk.
“Very sweet of you to call me by my nickname,” Bastion said. “We’re all friends here, after all. Hey, Gil. Asher.”