The Guild Codex: Warped, Tome 2 : Hellbound Guilds & Other Misdirections

Vincent Park was my nemesis.

I don’t say that lightly. I’d made the odd enemy in my twenty-two years on this planet, and as a foster kid, I’d encountered more than my fair share of supreme assholes—but I’d never had to cohabit a cubicle with any of them.

“Kit,” Vincent said firmly.

His perfectly manicured mohawk of glossy black hair, fondness for sticky notes, and know-it-all attitude had sat three feet from me for eight hours every workday since I’d become an employee of the

MPD. Today was no different.

“It stands for Magicae Politiae Denuntiatores,” he’d corrected me after I’d jokingly called us fledgling Magic Police Department members on our very first day. “It’s Latin.”

That was the moment I knew I hated him.

“Kit,” he repeated with more emphasis.

Well, that and the cargo shorts. Vincent wore cargo shorts every single day. That alone should tell you everything you need to know about him. A blizzard worthy of The Day After Tomorrow could hit and in would walk Vinny with his multi-pocketed shorts and frost-tipped leg hairs.

“It’s the pockets,” he’d told me when I’d asked. “Do you know how much stuff I can carry in these pockets?”

I’d shrugged. “About two half-legs’ worth?”

“What do you have in your pockets, huh?” he’d demanded with more intensity than the topic merited.

“Lint, mostly.”

“I could save your life with what I carry in my pockets.”

That was how things operated with Vincent. He was always trying to one-up me in every little thing. Even pockets.