Page 1 of A Thousand Cuts

Chapter 1

Fix

Fix parked his truck in his usual spot in front of Cursebreaker HQ. Black’s garish multicolored Beetle was already parked out front, half on the curb with the wheels left turned out. Wren’s SUV was just in front of it, without the trailer hitched but still covered in mud.

They seemed to be the only ones at the office so far today.

Fix hopped down from the cab, not having far to go at all before his boots hit the ground. He straightened his plaid shirt over his jeans then turned to grab the things he’d left on the passenger seat.

It was then he spotted a man across the road struggling with several huge boxes. He was young and had a cap pulled down over his eyes that had a delivery company logo emblazoned on it. The same logo showed on the side of the van he was trying to haul things out of.

Fix hurried across as the man staggered around, neck and arms straining.

Fix grabbed the edge of one box before it could tumble to the floor. “Woah! Need help?”

“I’ve…got it…thanks, sir,” the guy squeaked out.

Fix snorted, making an executive decision and taking the box from him entirely. It was heavy, but nothing Fix couldn’t handle.

The guy stumbled as the weight was lifted off, his whole body sagging like a limp noodle against the door of the van. Sweat was pouring out from under the cap’s brim and his face was entirely red.

“You haven’t got a trolley to help with this? Or another person?” Fix asked.

“They called out sick. Trolley broke,” the guy panted, eyeing him. “How are you holding that? Are you superhuman or something?”

Fix smiled. “The ‘or something’ category. Where do you need this?”

The guy gestured to the building and Fix got to work until the last box was transferred and piled up nicely.

“You’re a lifesaver,” the guy said, taking his hat off and wiping his brow. “I thought my arms were about to snap off.”

“Anytime. Get that trolley replaced,” Fix advised, knocking on the side of the van.

“Or I can pack on, like, fifty pounds of muscle,” the guy said, flexing his arms while looking at Fix’s.

Fix shook his head in amusement, waving goodbye as he walked back across the street to his truck. He felt the guy’s eyes following him, before he finally realized…

“You’re a cursebreaker!” he yelped across the distance. A few passersby glanced over as well.

Fix just chuckled. “Have a nice day!”

He walked into the building with his stuff, shouldering the doors open.

The airy reception greeted him, the bright sound of their intake manager’s latest music obsession playing through the speaker. Her blonde head was bopping around, her sparkly heelson the desk and a pile of mail on her lap. A letter addressed to Midas was open in front of her face and covered in glitter.

Fan mail.

The guy got it often from both past clients and random people on the street. Taylor delighted in reading it before Midas could throw it.

“Got you a coffee,” Fix said, placing a travel mug of Taylor’s favorite order on her desk—coffee with roasted caramel and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Taylor glanced up and grinned, bright pink lips perfectly painted. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Taylor,” Fix warned, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s the voice,” she said. “I can’t help it.”

“You’re not—”