Hexbreaker - Jordan L. Hawk by Jordan L. Hawk

Author:Jordan L. Hawk [Hawk, Jordan L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Jordan L. Hawk
Published: 2016-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“Don’t tell them you’re a police officer,” Cicero said as he stepped daintily along the icy sidewalk beside Tom. “I’m still pretending to be on the outs with the MWP, and you’re still just a bartender at the Rooster I’ve struck up a friendship with.”

Tom barely restrained a roll of the eyes. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.”

Cicero had indeed stayed the night, then spent a lazy Christmas morning drinking coffee and lounging about while Tom made them pancakes atop the little coal fired stove. Before returning to the familiar barracks, though, he’d asked if Tom would like to come to a party with him.

“Just a little something Noah—the owner of Techne—is throwing,” he’d said.

“You want to talk to the anarchists before we try to get into the tunnels tonight?” Tom guessed.

Cicero let out a little huff. “No, darling, I want to go to a party with my friends. Yes, Leona will be there, and yes, I will take the chance to speak with her.” He shrugged. “If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. I can meet you back here around, say, ten o’clock? I just thought you might like to meet them.”

Tom’s chest warmed. Cicero wanted him to meet his friends, which made Tom think he meant for whatever it was they had to continue. “Of course I’ll come.”

Now they traipsed down Greene Street, Cicero dressed at his most outrageous. Short of his dancing costume, at any rate. The kohl was thick around his eyes, and Tom was almost certain his lips and cheeks owed their redness to something other than the cold.

“I’m terribly sorry, darling,” Cicero said. “Nerves, you know.”

A group of men loitering on the street stared at them. Tom glared back, glad for his size. “Nerves? What…oh.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what the ‘oh’ was for.”

Tom shrugged. “You’re worried they’ll look down on you for bringing the likes of me along.”

Cicero let out a little hiss. “Don’t be absurd. Quite the opposite. I’m worried you won’t like them.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Tom asked, bewildered.

“To begin with you’re…” Cicero considered him a moment. “Steady. Not easily upset. Whereas they’re artists, which means everything must be terribly dramatic at all times.”

Tom snorted, breath puffing steam in the cold. “I don’t see why you’d worry about that. After all, I like you well enough, don’t I?”

“I’m wounded to the quick.” Cicero fluttered his eyes and put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Oh, look, here we are.”

The café was dark, its curtains drawn, but Cicero led the way down an alley and around the back. “Cicero!” called a woman from the fire escape above.

Tom did his best not to gape. The woman was dressed in a man’s suit and tie, though the first few buttons of the collar were undone, and the tie hung loosely around her shoulders. Her hair was cut shockingly short, and she held a cigar in one hand and a glass of absinthe in the other.

“Leona!” Cicero called back enthusiastically.

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