Page 81 of Hybrid Heroics

“What does it explain?” I asked, keeping her in the present.

“He’s rotten.”

I tilted my head, giving her an unimpressed look as I sat on the armchair and tugged her with me. She huffed in annoyance, but turned so she could face me, propping her legs over my knees.

“Magic is finicky. Old magic was even worse. If it was a powerful spell, then it could have transferred to him in the womb. Clearly not the love part of it, but possibly the opposite. Their love was fake, manufactured by deception. Now he feels none, probably never did.”

“You make that sound simple,” Amelia mused.

“It’s logical when you understand how dark, warped magic works. There were few emotions during my conception.” She spread her arms. “And guess what I struggle with?”

Amelia’s mouth tugged upward in a sarcastic smirk. “Sports?”

“Close,” Sloane joked. “It’s actually cooking, but you’d never guess it.”

“So, you think you struggle with emotions because—”

“No,” Lo cut her off. “I struggle with emotions because I detached myself from them. I think it was easier for me to do that because of the magic used when you conceived me, though. Or maybe it’s part of my purpose? I could see where it would be hard to fulfill a prophecy when I was too emotional to look at the bigger picture in a logical manner. I have emotions. They’re just…”

“Too little or too much,” I finished for her. “She doesn’t have a middle ground. Either she cares or she doesn’t, but occasionally we find something she’s indifferent about, something that she hasn’t made a decision on yet.”

Rig nodded. “Like us?”

Sloane tilted her head to the left. “I don’t dislike you.”

“But you don’t like us?” he pressed.

“I haven’t decided.” She observed him for a beat. “I don’t really know you. We’ve talked, but that’s not the same as knowing your backstory or favorite candy. I actually enjoyed talking to you when I met you. I appreciated your bluntness.”

“And getting to know us—”

“Is not going to happen today,” she interrupted Rig. “Or tomorrow. But maybe on Monday.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why Monday?”

“Gods, Rig,” Charlie muttered, covering his face.

“I’m busy today,” she replied flatly. “Tomorrow we fight. Friday is for rest. Saturday, I’m getting drunk. And Sundays are for hangovers.”

“When do you ever get hangovers?” I inquired, chuckling at her ‘are you serious?’ expression.

“I don’t, but I’m reserving that day in case the rest of my schedule is fucked up. Best scenario? We wrap this shit up and go drinking on Friday.”

Rig scratched at his scalp. “That’s… Logical?”

“Monday,” she repeated. “After five. I haven’t decided if I’m going into the office or not.”

“The office?” Amelia queried, confused by her nonchalance.

Lo waved the topic away. “It’s not important.”

“Priorities are important to her,” Nate mentioned.

“Morals? Not so much,” Sam teased.

She scoffed. “I have a moral or two. I don’t eat animals or kill children. What more do you want from me?”

Nate and Sam both held a hand out, as if her answer was all the proof they needed to make their points.