Page 131 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“Master, can I get you another beer?” Schatten asked, and Hex scowled at him.
“Leave me alone,” he ground out, and the boogeyman sighed dramatically, slithering through the air in a wispy swirl of darkness to rematerialize next to Raeanne’s right side. Even though his presence had initially upset her, it seemed they had a lot in common.
“How can I be expected to work under such conditions?” he asked her as she reached out and patted his hand sympathetically. “I simply wish to serve him, and he treats me like I’m the enemy.”
“Let me make you some hot cocoa, sweetie.” Raeanne patted Schatten’s hand and stood up to move into the kitchen. She carefully avoided both Argent and Monster, almost as if they were diseased, and then went about making a plate of snacks and some marshmallow-laden cocoa for a boogeyman.
Huh.
Guess it wasn’t so weird. Both Raeanne and Schatten enjoyed crafts, crocheting, disapproving sighs, and human politics—as a joke. I mean, every Numinous thought human politics were hilarious. They were two peas in a pod.
I watched Raeanne move around the kitchen, my gaze sliding back to the two men on their stools. Argent had been … I don’t want to say nice to Monster, but he’d been … something. He was behaving differently toward the man, and I couldn’t figure out why. When I’d asked, he’d been evasive, using faerie word games to avoid answering my questions.
Monster, well, he was in a mood, too, but it’d been so long since we’d spent any significant time together that I wasn’t sure what his mood indicated. I could ask him about it, but it was just better if we didn’t have any interaction with each other whatsoever.
What was the point?
When Fey was finished with her, um, ‘art’, I put her on the ground to play with Zavier and stood, moving over to the kitchen counter so that I could rest my elbows on the surface of it.
“I don’t want to spend the night here,” I whispered because, like, as kindhearted as Raeanne was, she was also judgmental as fuck. My skirt was too short, my witch hat was inappropriate for the season, my kids were too wolfy, I couldn’t bake for shit, that sort of petty stuff. I could brush it off easily enough for a visit here and there, but I didn’t want to stay here.
“You’ll be safest that way.” Argent looked up and into my eyes, as if he had nothing to hide. Maybe he didn’t? Maybe I was being paranoid? But it sure felt like it.
“And what about you?” I whispered back, using the roar of the football game to keep my words hidden from the pack. If they’d wanted to, they could tune into what I was saying and hear it just fine, but they were distracted. “Do you really think a binding spell from Monster is enough to keep your mother’s hands off of you? As I recall it, the last time we were in Faerie you killed your brother and wrote fuck off on the wall in his blood. Have you ever considered that there might be consequences to those actions?”
“Have you considered that if I don’t get an artifact from my family, we won’t be able to cast this spell, our baby will be stolen from us and slaughtered, and the Fire Veil will fall? What then? Who will the demons punish first? Coven Apothecary has kept them on their side of the Veil for centuries. That’s a lot of pent-up rage, Graceley.”
I slammed my palms down on the counter, drawing Raeanne’s attention.
Oops.
Schatten very carefully steered her focus back to a conversation about embroidery, much to my great relief. Obviously, I’d only met the guy last night, but I had a feeling I was going to like him.
I turned to Monster. We hadn’t had many conversations together since leaving Hael. Mostly we talked around one another in group settings. But I could not forget the dreams I’d had while recovering from the spell nor could I forget that he’d personally paid me a visit during one of them.
Our eyes met, and I sucked in a sharp breath. If I hadn’t had a heaping dose of slug slime coffee this morning, I’d be in big trouble here.
“Who or what are you planning to bind him to?” I asked, and Monster offered up a lascivious smile in response.
“Myself, of course. I can’t bind him to anything on this side of the Veil; it won’t stick once we cross over.” He lifted his head up to look over at Hex, still stuck on the couch in front of the football game.
Poor guy.
When we had a free minute to ourselves, I’d ask him out on a date. He deserved that much, at least. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his head right now. Did he regret ever agreeing to try out a relationship with me? Was he panicked? Did he hate every second?
