Free Fix by Ferrett Steinmetz Page A

and–”
    There was a sharp pop as he yanked one stone free – and the rocks cascaded away from the car like water, rolling off obligingly to reveal Robert Paulson striding towards the car door.
    Paul had never gotten used to the new Robert, though he understood the new look was a side effect of his security chief giving up his Fight Club -inspired ’mancy. When Paul had first met Robert, Robert had called himself Tyler Durden, and his magic had shaped his bruised body into a carbon copy of Brad Pitt. But after he’d met Valentine, his need to be Tyler Durden had dwindled – and he’d slowly mutated into a beefy six-foot-five man who looked like an aging nightclub bouncer, complete with a lurking air of ominous violence, a battered leather jacket, and a sagging paunch.
    Yet anyone who knew Robert thought of him as a teddy bear. And he looked like a teddy bear, crouching down with his arms open, grinning like a polecat as he shouted, “ Rock star !”
    Valentine burst out of the car to leap into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, grabbing his face by both cheeks.
    â€œYou should have seen what I did, baby!” Her face was flushed with excitement. “ Full super-saiyan! I made it rain , and what I rained was destruction !”
    â€œI did see it!” He held up his smartphone, matching her giddiness. “Somebody posted it on YouTube!”
    She twirled around to curl up in his arms, and they watched Valentine’s magical battle with the cooing fondness that other couples might use to watch baby pictures. Robert squeezed her tight every time an explosion went off – he still had a Fight Club -mancer’s appreciation of his girlfriend’s devastation.
    When it was over, they had the faint flush of a couple who’d watched a particularly satisfying porno. “Whew,” Robert said. “When was the last time you teed off on anything like that?”
    Valentine stepped gracefully out of his arms, like a woman regretfully bowing out from a dance. “It’s been a while.”
    â€œâ€¦has it?”
    She stiffened.
    Paul knew Valentine’s inactivity had been a source of tension. She stayed by Robert’s side, which was handy because Robert generally stayed by Paul’s side – but between Robert’s brute competence and Paul’s extensive planning, there hadn’t been much need for violence. Even the rallies had grown efficient enough that Valentine’s magic was used mostly for crowd control. And since Valentine’s videogame magic couldn’t create anything lasting, she’d sat by the sidelines as Robert had built safehouses or delegated Project Mayhem duties or just took Krav Maga classes.
    He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, love. Your ’mancy remains a glorious supernova to behold. It’s just, you know… things have been going right lately.”
    She waved him off. He took her hand, holding it tight and long – a little too tight and a little too long, Paul judged. And if Paul noticed Valentine’s discomfort then it must be blatantly apparent to everyone else.
    Then Robert glanced over Paul’s shoulder.
    â€œHow’s she doing?”
    Paul realized Aliyah had yet to get out of the car.
    Valentine shook her head: not good . Robert hunched down, stuck his head in through the window.
    â€œWe’re safe, kid,” he assured her. “I’ve set up tons of safehouses and I assure you – this will be the last to fall.” He gestured back towards a distant set of rustic cabins, where a small militia tended to gardens, unpacked crates, toted water buckets. “I handpicked every man and woman for loyalty. And the feds are distinctly not welcome here in the Smokeys. More importantly, we’ve got some real unique ’mancers in our stockpile. Wanna see ’em?”
    It was a good gambit: Aliyah loved naming new ’mancies – and given ’mancy