Crimes Against Magic

The memory of being shot by a woman pretty much kills any sexual urge you have toward her. And if it doesn't, you have issues.

Words actually failed me. I felt as dumb as my lounge-less friend in the corner. "You injected me with vampire blood?" My words were said slowly, ensuring that I didn't get one wrong or accidentally call Francis a fucking asshat. "You're a vampire?" Francis' expression managed to convey how stupid he thought that question was. "I live underground, and you've never seen me outside. I'm pale in complexion ands obviously hundreds of years old. What did you think I was? Agoraphobic?

left her to work, grabbed a book that Holly had lent me, and tried to get past the second chapter. It was about vampires and werewolves and the love of a good woman. Apparently it had a lot of fans. I wasn’t amongst them. About thirty pages in and I’d already come to the conclusion that it was shit, but I figured it could only get better.

Everyone hates fractions. That’s why they make you do them. It’s character building.

Most people would rather hear a reasonable lie than the fantastical truth.

The second school of magic is called Omega magic. This magic is too powerful to be wielded by a novice. For this reason, any sorcerer wishing to use Omega magic is usually millennia old at least. It consists of mind, matter, shadow, and light.

You’re a vampire?” Francis’ expression managed to convey how stupid he thought that question was. “I live underground, and you’ve never seen me outside. I’m pale in complexion and obviously hundreds of years old. What did you think I was? Agoraphobic?” I shrugged. “It just never occurred to me, that’s all. Although, with all the crazy shit I’ve seen in the last few days, I probably should have figured it out for myself.

Contrary to popular belief, there is honor amongst thieves. It just comes in a monetary form.

The clock on the wall said it was just after three a.m., although with a constant tick every second, it soon became clear in my mind that the clock might not make it to four a.m. before being thrown through a window.

Two women sat behind a large reception desk opposite the three massive turnstile doors and across an expansive lobby. They were probably mild-mannered receptionists, but they appeared more akin to someone you’d meet in the dead of night with a large knife.

Something in me changed. As I watched Lee threaten his sister, I contemplated a few dozen ways to kill or maim him. And all of those methods would take only a few seconds. It was like trying to find a tiny crack on a vase and suddenly noticing dozens of flaws present. Flaws I could take advantage of.

I picked up the gun and placed it in my holster, fastening my jacket up afterward. I caught a glimpse of Holly’s worried expression. “Just in case,” I said. “I won’t use it unless I have to.” Somewhere inside me a voice whispered—but if I have to use it, I’ll make sure I’ll be the one walking away.

I’m good, thanks. Blew up my flat, got shot at. Oh, killed a man in cold blood. Been quite an eventful day. Least it’s not raining though, eh?” “Are you quite finished?” I had more, but I thought it better to save them for a more willing audience.

The girl didn’t want to wear the Beefeater-style hat she had on, and the dad wasn’t happy with his daughter’s tantrum. To be fair, it was an ugly hat, and making his child wear one probably went against the Geneva Convention.

I’m not here to fight, Nate,” Jenny said. That was strange, because my first impulse was to throw a giant ball of flame at her. “You shot me,” I said holding back my sudden anger. “With a tranquilizer dart.” “Oh, that’s okay then. Wanna shoot me a few more times?” Jenny smiled; she had a nice smile. She’d

My mind crept back to the last time I’d seen her naked, moving on top of me. And then it went to the moment she shot me. The memory of being shot by a woman pretty much kills any sexual urge you have toward her. And if it doesn’t, you have issues.

I ordered two Cokes—alcohol was not going to be a good idea—and took them over to our table. “How very gentlemanly,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to get me one and lace it with sedatives.

Welkin was a fucking monster.” Her words dripped bile. “He experimented on children and made Josef Mengele look like a nice rational human being. He deserved a lot worse.

Each type of magic corresponds to a different color glyph—white for air, orange for fire, green for earth, and blue for water.

He explained that a sorcerer’s magic is bound to two different schools. The first is Elemental—water, earth, fire, and air. Most users of magic start in this school; the magic I’d used in my target’s bedroom was air, hence the white glyphs, which crossed over my arms. Each type of magic corresponds to a different color glyph—white for air, orange for fire, green for earth, and blue for water.

posts. He was her mum’s boyfriend, Phil, who from all accounts was a nasty piece of shit. And when a thief calls you a nasty piece of shit, you just know you’re not a good person.

Skull tattoos adorned each arm, and someone had written love and hate on his knuckles so badly that it looked as if it had been done by an illiterate blind man.

You don’t understand,” she said meekly. “Really? Okay, you’re a special case then, are you? Unlike all the others in abusive relationships, your man really does love you. He’s a good man deep down. Tells you he’ll change.