“I will.” Quin pocketed the card, glancing around them surreptitiously. “Thank you. Have a good lecture.”
“You too,” Fix called after his quickly retreating figure, wondering what that was about as he left the residential wing and crossed a large foyer into the training facilities.
Humble as his response to Quin had been, Fix was aware of the reputation he held among other cursebreakers. Of being the best. The most talented.
He didn’t know if he believed it, but that reputation had earned him an invitation to be a guest lecturer at Nexus. Twice a year he’d come and teach a class to those ready to leave. He’d offer practical advice, talk about some of the more unusual cases he’d had and the things they’d likely encounter in their new jobs. Young cursebreakers liked him well enough and Fix enjoyed nurturing their curiosity.
The click of his footsteps on the floor drowned out the distant chatter of cursebreaker voices as they got ready for their training sessions and lectures.
Memories flooded in again. Of people he’d trained with getting matched with their teams and leaving Nexus to start their work. Of his quarterly team aptitude tests coming back wonky and mismatched every time. Of the instructors assuring him it was only a matter of time before he matched with a team, even as he grew older and lost almost all hope. He’d been put on practice cases with so many teams in so many combinations he was pretty sure he’d met every single cursebreaker in training they had.
It had never panned out. Nothing worked. None of them fit.
Until someone did.
Black.
A deadly curses specialist who had only just graduated. A weirdo wrapped in pastel colors and attitude. A ticking time bomb according to everyone who’d ever trained him and every other cursebreaker they’d tried him with. He’d looked like a muffin to Fix. Tiny and colorful and sweet at his core. Fix wanted to put him in his pocket and protect him.
Then Midas.
A cursed objects specialist. Aloof and disinterested. Incredible at his job and loyal to absolutely nobody but his own whims. Fix saw the warmth nobody else seemed to see. He liked Midas from day one.
Then Wren.
A cursed animal specialist. Broken in ways he still didn’t understand. Rebellious and resentful. Unmatched because he refused to take the aptitude tests or practice with any of the teams and refused to tell anyone why. They’d managed to sway him into trying out with Fix, and Fix saw the strength behind the pain.
Then Ash.
A bonding curse specialist. Unmatched for years because he’d managed to burn the aptitude test paperwork several times andfly off the handle in every practice case they’d put him on before Nexus just gave up on him. Unfocused. Scatterbrained. Volatile. Fix saw brilliance and adaptability where others saw fault.
They sat in waiting for the final puzzle piece for what felt like ages.
And then they found Hart.
An interpersonal specialist. Perfectionist. Cold. Too finicky for every other team but somehow exactly what theirs needed. Fix leaned into it. Played off of it. Partnered with Hart and allowed him to take some of the responsibilities he always saw as his own. Hart became an ally.
By that point Fix had been at Nexus for so long most of the instructors saw him as a friend. He had a rapport with them the other cursebreakers didn’t have. They’d privately advised Fix that his team would crash and burn before their first year in the field was over. They’d said they’d never seen a team like theirs, so full of dysfunction and outliers, and there was no chance of it ever working.
The only thing Fix had to say was that it was precisely why they’d matched. Because they were all unmatchable with anyone else.
The reject team.
Fix wouldn’t change them for the world.
“Fix, my boy.” A gentle voice sounded from the top of a set of L-shaped wrought iron stairs that led to the instructors’ offices in the uppermost parts of the facility. Fix snapped his head up toward the cavernous upper beams, sour memories disappearing as his lips stretched into a wide smile.
“Gwen!”
He rushed up, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached her. He gave her a tight hug, making her laugh when he lifted her off the floor.
“Oh, you overgrown child.” She smacked his shoulder until he put her down, her hands reaching to smooth the nonexistent wrinkles on her clothes.
She was always perfectly poised and glamorous, and the outfit she wore that day was similar to the ones Fix remembered. A pair of gray trousers, a black turtleneck sweater, and high heels with pointed toes. She was tall and thin, but incredibly strong. Her blonde hair was graying at the temples and tied into a bun at her neck. She had clear green eyes and dark eyebrows that didn’t match her hair at all. They gave her face a more severe look when Fix knew her as anything but. She was like a mother to him. An adult he had trusted his whole life.
“Long time,” Fix said, holding her hands in his. She gave them a squeeze.
“We need to find a way to lure you in here more often,” she said, letting go of his hands to thread her arm around his as she guided them down the stairs and toward a hallway to their right. “Two lectures a year isn’t nearly enough.”
