Read Incarnate (A Spellmason Chronicle) for Free Online Page B

take it easy,” Caleb said.
    I couldn’t hold back a sigh as I sat down in the chair.
    “What?” he asked. “Is it so wrong that I don’t want you getting yourself killed, especially on date night?”
    “Maybe if I had some help,” I shot back, half kidding but also half serious. “You
are
partially responsible for the recent resurgence in gargoyle activity, after all.”
    “Through no fault of my own,” Caleb added with lightning speed. He walked back to his prep table and continued on with his cooking.
    “No fault . . . ?!” I repeated, shocked. “You’re joking, right? My
intended
spell was meant to work on
one
statue, not all of Alexander’s across Manhattan.”
    “You and I have different recollections of that evening, then,” he said, throwing me a sidelong smile.
    “Do we, now?” I asked, slumping back in the chair, arms folded across my chest.
    “Yes, we do,” he said, walking back over to the dining table and sliding a plate across it to me. “By my accounting of it, I was trying to save you and your friends.”
    “You were trying to save
yourself
,” I said, pointing a finger at him.
    He considered it for a moment. “Those are
not
mutually exclusive.”
    “Fine,” I conceded. “Continue.”
    “I
had
a plan,” he said, going back to his prep table. “Kejetan’s evil little gargoyles would have had to contend with the
other
gargoyles I created by way of amplifying your spell. Had
my
plan worked, I would have added, what? Maybe several dozen stoners out there, tops, not the whole city’s worth.” He pointed at me with a fork. “That’s on you and your friends for interfering with what I was trying to accomplish.”
    Caleb finished filling his plate before dropping it across the table, joining me.
    “And that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “Knowing what you’ve brought down on this city?”
    He sighed and looked up from his plate, his attitude blasé. “If I got upset with every arcane twist or turn that’s happened in my freelancing career as an alchemist, I’d be the most morose person out there. Magic is a pseudoscience on a
good
day, which means it’s at best often unpredictable.” He shrugged. “I roll with the eldritch punches.”
    “I couldn’t do that,” I said. “Jesus, I can barely sleep for all the guilt I bear over my involvement in it.”
    “Of course you can’t sleep,” he said, going back to eating. “You’re a product of arcane privilege.”
    “Excuse me . . . ?” I asked. “What the hell is that?”
    “Don’t be so offended,” he said. “You can’t help it. You were born into it. You’ve never had to hustle on the street to make a living selling spells or potions or taking odd alchemical jobs to make ends meet.
That’s
arcane privilege.”
    “I work hard at what I do,” I protested.
    “Sure you do,” he said. “But it’s not like it’s a job.”
    “Not everyone is motivated by profit,” I said.
    Caleb laughed at that, enjoying the good-natured ribbing and verbal jousting as much as I did, maybe more since just then I was actually a little offended by his accusation.
    “Do you even hear yourself?” he said with a laugh. “Ever hear the maxim ‘Money makes the world go round’?”
    “Some people do things because they have a love for it,” I said. “A talent for it. Maybe a family legacy to excel at it.”
    He held his hands up. “Fine, fine,” he said. “Look. I didn’t come here for an argument. I came to celebrate.”
    It was too late. I was riled now. “I’m out there every night trying to get control of this situation . . . a situation you and I created! Anything bad that happens while those stone creatures are out there is on us. With great power comes—”
    Caleb shook his head at me. “Don’t give me that Spider-Man crap,” he said, then reached across the table to take my hand, squeezing it. “Lexi, I love your altruism, but I just don’t think the best solution is to try to personally hunt