Flex ('Mancer)
Ferrett Steinmetz
Language: English
Pages: 432
ISBN: 0857664603
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
FLEX: Distilled magic in crystal form. The most dangerous drug in the world. Snort it, and you can create incredible coincidences to live the life of your dreams.
FLUX: The backlash from snorting Flex. The universe hates magic and tries to rebalance the odds; maybe you survive the horrendous accidents the Flex inflicts, maybe you don’t.
PAUL TSABO: The obsessed bureaucromancer who’s turned paperwork into a magical Beast that can rewrite rental agreements, conjure rented cars from nowhere, track down anyone who’s ever filled out a form.
But when all of his formulaic magic can’t save his burned daughter, Paul must enter the dangerous world of Flex dealers to heal her. Except he’s never done this before – and the punishment for brewing Flex is army conscription and a total brain-wipe.
File Under: Urban Fantasy [ Magic Pill | Firestarter | Bureaucramancy | The Flex & the Flux ]
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offices. Their broken windows looked out over an open area marked with faded spray paint that had once marked the boundaries for forklifts. There sat Valentine and a young boy who must be her lover. They sat on fold-up chairs, facing each other, as if they had been dragged out here to have a chat by some psychotic therapist. Between them sat a bingo machine: the makings of a Flex lab. They were surrounded by three thugs and Gunza, who never took his eye off of Valentine. Paul slipped over a
what the hell Anathema was trying to do, then he could intercept her– –movement outside the curtains. Paul looked up, glad to see a nurse had arrived; he felt strangely nauseated, a gut-churning sickness that felt like wild animals had shit down his throat. Maybe he could ask for a prescription. He grabbed his crutches. The nurse ripped the curtain down, steel rings tumbling from the ceiling. Paul shrieked in surprise, dropping his cell phone. It shone upward, illuminating the woman who stood
But the bad ’mancer is forcing our hand…” Aliyah huffed, hyperventilating in huge whoops that Paul knew would give her a headache later. “Why can’t you give it up, Daddy? Just stop it. Don’t be… don’t be a ’mancer. Be a Daddy. Just… be my Daddy. Be my Daddy!” “Sweetie.” He dabbed the blood off her face; thankfully, the cuts were head wounds, bleeding profusely – but nothing that required stitches. “If Daddy could, he would. Being a ’mancer isn’t anything you choose to be. It just… happens.”
dick. And yeah. I’m gonna follow you. I know why you’ve spent the last twelve hours hunting down Anathema without so much as a Pepsi break: you’re trying to get your heroic blaze of glory over with. Fuck that. I’m in your way. Watch me die first, motherfucker.” She spat on the ground. “Also: you’re shit in a fight.” Paul’s heart was a blender, mixing prickly annoyance and loving gratitude. He spoke gruffly – not the yell he wanted to drive her away, not the embrace he wanted to wrap her in.
colored lights as the movie started, projected onto a gigantic screen tied to the grass. Thousands of people – families, lovers, film buffs – had settled into the grass, spread out over the hollows of the moist ground, lying on blankets or leaning back on chairs. They all cast long shadows, turned into faceless penumbrae by the glow of the screen. The crowd was smaller than usual; Anathema kept people home these days. But these brave souls, half the usual ten thousand who made it out to the