Page 101 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
Ahem.
I made my way down the path and found myself halted by Argent. He threw an arm out to keep me from moving out of the gate to join Monster. One vrag could be handled by the demon royal, but why not offer him backup? If more showed up, he’d need the help.
“Let him deal with this; he should be good for something.”
Our eyes met, and I could see that Argent was worried about more than just Monster’s magic, more than just his pheromones, more even than my being pregnant.
He was worried that I might fall for the demon prince.
Me. Not my body. Not my magic. But me.
Argent dropped his arm and I turned just in time to see Monster sever the vrag’s head from its shoulders, spraying blood that hit the wards and slid down as if hitting the panes of a window.
A car drove by with a Christmas tree strapped to the top, slowing briefly before hitting the gas and peeling out of there as if, well, as if they’d just seen a category nine demon rip a category eight demon’s head off.
Guess this was a Christmas they’d never forget.
Generally, the Numinous made a shared and concentrated effort to keep humans out of our business, but sometimes, it just couldn’t be helped. Oh well. Just so long as Monster cleaned up the blood, it was okay every once in a while.
Goddamn, my life is fucked. A side of vrag blood with my sweet potato casserole and ripped panties.
Thus is the life of a twenty-first century witch.
“Where there’s one witch-eater, there’s always another,” Argent murmured as the other men joined us outside and watched as Monster quickly set both the blood and the body on fire, leaving a smoky stain on the sidewalk.
Disturbingly enough, the smoke smelled of chestnuts roasting over an open fire …
Monster turned back to look at me as Hex rejoined us in the front yard, the photo album held under one arm, his duffel bag in the opposite hand. The look he threw over his shoulder at Lulu was deadly.
“I didn’t call them here, son,” she warned him, crossing her arms and letting her gaze lift to the sky. “But they’re coming. An entire army. If you don’t willingly marry Violet, they’ll come for you.”
“I suppose I’m intended to willingly sacrifice my own child, too?” Hex quipped back, turning fully around to face his grandmother. “Not that I’d ask your advice on this. You don’t seem too bent out of shape about your own daughter—”
“If I could’ve saved her, Hex, I would have,” Lulu breathed out, looking past him at me. “But there’s nothing you can do to save that child. The Witch Queen will be sacrificed to open the Fire Veil. No amount of negotiating or bargaining will you see you past this. Sometimes, hard choices must be made. Do you value your own lives? The lives of your other children? You can always have another baby. Think about that.”
She turned and disappeared into the house, like her words were just a casual suggestion, as if waiting to birth a baby, killing her, and slitting her throat to allow demons to walk free in this world was a valid choice.
“We need to move ass on this,” Spectre whispered, his face even paler than usual. He pulled at the front of his sweater, yanking off a charm and stepping outside the gate. He tossed it over the smoky stain on the sidewalk, and the char marks disappeared altogether, leaving behind what was once a small red ornament. It was now black as it bounced along the sidewalk. He reached down and picked it back up. Now that it’d absorbed the charcoal from the vrag’s body, it was charged and useful for other spellcasting endeavors.
“You’ll let me contact Kingdom Noir?” I offered, and he nodded, turning to look at me as Monster opened up a spell circle by our feet, magic swirling our clothes and hair around in the breeze.
“As if you were going to wait for my permission anyway,” he said, almost teasingly, but with a stricken expression that was going to haunt me for the rest of the night.
Spectre was afraid.
We all should be.
Deathly so.
Not only was war at our doorstep … but it was the holidays and we had familial obligations.
What could be more frightening in this world or any other?
The next day at the shop, I had Spectre singing Christmas carols under his breath (heavenly), Caine sitting with the kids at a craft table covered in glitter (the kids not the table), Argent helping restock the shelves, and Hex standing awkwardly beside me as I ran around doing a million different things.
That’s when it first occurred to me.
I turned to look at Hex with a box full of spelled candy canes in my arms. Finish one of these babies off and sing like Bing Crosby or Judy Garland for a day. Neat, right? Each one was wrapped in brown butcher paper to keep such finicky magic trapped inside and tied with a festive ribbon.
