“Did you find it?” the demon demanded as he held out his hand.
“No, but I got these.” Opening the bag, Wynn spilled the contents onto the male’s palm.
Hexx sniffed, studying the objects. “Low-grade stuff.”
Wynn reached to take them back. “If you don’t want them—”
“Slow your roll.” Hexx wrapped his fingers around the objects. “I didn’t say that. I can move them, but it’s going to be for pennies.”
“A thousand US dollars.”
Hexx widened his eyes. “Are you deaf? I just said this stuff is crap.”
Wynn snapped her fingers. This was a familiar song and dance they’d performed a hundred times over the past century.
“Then give them back and I’ll sell them to Virgil.”
“Virgil Magyari?” He spit the name out like a curse. “That bastard? He might claim he’s some sort of expert in black market magic, but he’s nothing more than a hack who regularly steals, cheats, and bullies his customers. Only the most desperate idiot would go to him.” Hexx pursed his lips. “You know what? I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll give you three hundred. You’re welcome.”
“You would cheat a poor girl just trying to survive?” Wynn pressed a hand against her chest, her eyes filling with tears. “What about my poor sick mother? Nine hundred.”
Hexx snorted. “If you’re a poor, helpless girl, then I’m the Easter Bunny. Three fifty.”
With a chuckle, Wynn shattered the illusion she’d created for her various heists. The child with freckles and bouncy brown curls was replaced with an angular face and stunning lavender eyes. Her features were finely chiseled, with high cheekbones and a narrow nose. Her lips were wide and full, as if they were offering a sulky invitation. Or at least that’s what one hopeful lover had told her. She didn’t know what that meant, which was probably why he’d never gone from hopeful to lover.
Her silky blond hair was pulled into a tight braid that hung down her back, and beneath her coat she wore black spandex that made it easy to disappear into the shadows.
At a glance she looked to be in her mid-twenties, although Wynn honestly had no idea how old she was. At least 198 years, but it could be more. It could be a lot more. Just another mystery in her crazy life.
“Seven hundred fifty dollars and not a penny less,” she said.
“Five hundred. Final offer.”
Wynn rolled her eyes. “Fine. But only because I’m in a hurry. Those curses are worth five hundred apiece.”
“Why are you in a hurry?” Hexx reached into his back pocket to pull out a wad of bills, counting them off with meticulous care.
Making a sound of impatience, Wynn reached forward to snatch them out of his hand.
“A good question.” She shoved the money into the pocket of her coat. It was the one thing that hadn’t been a part of her illusion. Five hundred dollars was less than she used to spend on a nice bottle of wine, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this would give her some breathing space for a few days. “You have a relationship with the Witch’s Brew, don’t you?”
Hexx stilled, belatedly sensing Wynn’s seething annoyance. “Relationship?”
“You know the owners?”
Hexx’s ratlike features twisted with disgust. “If you mean the trio of bitches who’ve made my life a living hell, then yeah, I suppose I know them. Why?”
“Because I walked into a trap tonight.”
“A trap?” Hexx stared at her. “Are you kidding?”
Wynn held out her hand, hovering above one of the crystals that held a nasty curse.
“You tell me, Hexx. Do you think I’m kidding?”
“Okay. Simmer down.” Hexx might not have known exactly how her magic worked, but he understood she could release the curse to spill over him. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I swear those mages are the bane of my existence.”
“Pretending that they’re your bane would be a perfect cover if you were working with them, right?”
