Page 12 of Tracking Snow

I don't get the sense Hoodie is going anywhere in particular. Kind of like me, he's just roaming around.

Maybe he is exactly like me? An insomniac with a vigilante hobby.

Though we aren’t the only ones out this late.

The faint ding of a bell draws my attention to a young South Asian guy with a backpack locking up a convenience store for the night.

I’ve been to the Hot and Quik many times to grab energy drinks and always appreciate how late they stay open. If I remember right, the kid's name is Devi.

His parents run the shop, but Devi uses the slow night shift to study for his college classes. Based on the intimidatingly thick textbooks I’ve seen, he’s into some kind of math or science field.

Hoodie is walking in a different direction, but I can clearly see them both from my vantage point.

Devi strides with purpose but slows when he comes across a city-placed planter of browned, crispy flowers that have been decimated by the Boston heat.

He glances around, exactly the way someone would who is about to do something shady.

Well, well. What are you up to, mister?

I lean over the ledge to get a closer look.

That’s when Devi sticks his hand in the dirt. At first, nothing happens, but then the dead brown flowers turn green and lift with new life, color expanding into the now vibrant petals.

I cover my gasp with a hand.

That is so fae fucking cool. The pull in my chest strains at seeing the beautiful display of magic. He’s got to be at least a level two mage.

I can’t help but wonder how it feels to give plants life again.

I bet it feels fucking awesome.

Fuck college classes. I’d be running some massive garden center and doing crazy shit with my gardening powers. I’d grow a topiary replica of me. Or…oh I’d make one of Ariel! She’d think it was so weird.

I chuckle to myself, knowing I’d make even more of them just because of that.

With a self-satisfied smile, Devi adjusts his backpack and starts walking again.

That’s the thing about nighttime. With no one around, there are fewer inhibitions, fewer reasons to pretend to be someone you’re not.

And that’s exactly why the Humans Against Magic chuckleheads have been lurking as late as I do.

I catch movement in the shadows from the end of the street where Devi is. A familiar man stalks out and into the light.

Dirt-Face.

And he’s beelining straight for the young mage.

He saw the small display of power too.

In my moment of admiration, I’d lost track of Hoodie, but he’s not the priority now. In a few moments, that HAM asshole was going to be on Devi like purple on a pansy.

I grab a drainpipe and slide down it. My hands burn from the descent, but that doesn’t matter. That kid is in serious danger.

I start sprinting, putting extra speed in my step when I hear a yelp of pain.

Rounding the corner, I skid to a halt. Dirt-Face holds Devi against a wall by his lapels. Devi’s face drains of color as his eyes widen with fear. He’s no fighter.

Hoodie steps out of the shadows a couple of feet away on the opposite side of the alley.