“Aren’t you indestructible?”
“Just my penis is.”
“Ah, interesting,” I say as I decide that if he can say shit like that, then he’s perfectly fine.
I reach the road and stare down at the spot where my bike sat earlier. Not thatanythingsits here anymore. The cars that were parked along the road have been shoved out into the street and are crushed by debris, and when Torin points, I realize that my bike must have become a projectile because it’s now embedded in the brick of the building across the road… about twenty feet up.
“Let’s pretend we didn’t notice that. We’ll ride the subway,” I tell Torin.
“Please, not the subway.”
I love how he sounds more horrified about riding the subway than dealing with the man inside that building. “Subway it is. And learn English words that don’t revolve around sex.”
“You are a very demanding man.” He walks beside me while I contemplate how surprised I am that Imani is actually letting me go. I guess when I left the Magical Interference Unit, it became known that I really wasn’t supposed to engage withthem any longer. The unit itself is a prestigious special ops unit that takes a lot of time, dedication, and training to be involved in. And those who aren’t currently in it aren’t allowed to know what’s happening.
I think they just play favorites when it comes to me. Not my personality, god no, but the fact that they like my magic.
“Are you hurt?” Torin asks.
“No, I look significantly better than you. You look like you went through a blender.”
“Do you think that you purposely aimed the sharpest pieces at me when you exploded the entire building? Do you think that’s why I look like this and you just have some tousled hair?”
“It’s a strong possibility,” I say.
“You claim you’re not hurt but your hands won’t stop shaking.”
I slide my hands into my pockets, positive he doesn’t need to know everything about me. “Just from the amount of magic I used,” I lie as I zip into the subway station.
He stares at the opening to the station like I’ve just walked into a lion’s den. “Why can’t we walk back to your home?”
“It’s illegal to walk too much in this country.”
“Then we should get a horse.”
“I like this beast better,” I say, pulling him into a bathroom just inside the station. I grab a paper towel and wet it before turning to face him. “You don’t have any healing magic?”
“Doesn’t look like it, does it?” he asks as he looks down at himself.
“So you usually do?”
“I’m usually even more magnificent than I currently am.”
“Ah, of course. I apologize for thinking otherwise.”
“Good,” he says while I start wiping the blood off him so he at least looks semi-presentable when we get on the subway.
I kind of think there’s something about him that will just make people accept him no matter what he looks like. It’s some strange godly effect that makes you go, “Oh, he might be covered in blood, but I would still do him.”
Not that I would.
Hell no.
I’m going to die a cynical, shriveled-up old man who is all alone.
“The way you look at me is both the way my lovers look at me as well as the people who want to kill me. I can’t quite tell which way you’re leaning.”
“Good,” I say as I wipe his face.
