Page 34 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
I hardly expected Monster to do any of that.
Mostly, I just wanted to know more about the war and the Witch Queen thing, and … fuck it, I would let him stay in the apartment above the shop just so long as he agreed to three conditions.
One, protect the store and all of its contents. Two, stay the Hael away from me and my family. And three, keep our past history to himself. I didn’t think that was asking too much.
“Oh Grace,” Suze murmured, but she was already turning away, and I was reaching down to unlock the gate. Caine passed the basket over to Hex, and then the four of us went into the garden to find our kids.
“Mommy, look!” Zavier said, holding up a black and orange basket filled with candy. Even as he was sprinting across the lawn toward me in his death’s-head hawkmoth costume, he was spilling pieces across the lawn. I knelt down and took him into my arms as all eyes turned our way.
If my mother died, I’d be simultaneously blamed for her death and also pressured into taking her position. I could feel it, that dual annoyance and expectation. It was infuriating, but I pushed it aside in favor of stroking my vampire son’s dark hair back from his small face.
“Look at all of that sugar,” I said, picking up a piece of handmade peanut brittle. It was wrapped in waxy brown butcher paper and tied with twine, a gift from a coven member. The kids of Coven Apothecary trick-or-treated along the street like human children, but they also got special goodies like spelled brownies to give them sweet dreams or cookies filled with rainbow-colored chips that could taste like cotton candy or apples, chocolate or cheese. “Save me some of the good stuff, eh?”
Zavier nodded dutifully, searched around in his basket and presented the nicest looking witch treat he could find. I curled my hand over his.
“I was kidding,” I said with a soft smile as Argent swept the twins into his arms and Caine growled and nuzzled one of their puppy cheeks. Spectre picked up Fey as I stroked my fingers over Zavier’s cheeks. “We’re doing a spell tonight for Grandma,” I continued, trying not to get choked up. “A big one.”
“And then you’ll sleep forever,” he said, dropping his chin with a small frown. He looked back up at me, tears welling. “But Grandma is sick.”
“Grandma is sick,” I agreed, setting his basket aside and picking him up. I turned back to my husbands and we made a small circle, all of us facing inward. I could feel the rest of the coven watching us, but I couldn’t care less what they thought about all of this. Doubtless some of them were murmuring that, rather than waste our energy on a futile spell such as this, we should save it for whatever they deemed more important than my mother’s life.
Wait till they found out that I’d sprung Hex Sorciere from his demon wedding. Holy flipping witch hats, they’d be furious.
My husbands and I stood shoulder to shoulder and, under our collective breaths, murmured protection charms and spells of safety and contentedness. I even plucked the last and final charm from my hat off, one for health and happiness, and let the magic wash over our four children.
“We’ll be asleep, but it won’t be forever,” Spectre explained, correcting Zavier’s earlier statement as Fey sucked on a blueberry flavored lollipop, her tiny mouth stained with color. The twins were barely listening, wiggling around, more keen on licking faces and stealing candy from the other kids’ hands than listening to us.
“We’ll be back soon enough. Until then, listen to Mahou, annoying as she is,” Argent added in a voice gentle enough to soften his rebuke of my apprentice. The kids should have no problem following that order. Mahou was goofy and young, and they always enjoyed playing with her. Besides that, I trusted her with my life, something I couldn’t say for every member of our coven …
Bastet sauntered over to us in the middle of our union, yawning and stretching before weaving in and around my legs. About time you got back. Our entire coven is full of stuffy, pretentious dilettantes with more asshole in their personality than a cat’s bare butt.
I mean, she wasn’t wrong about that, but at least she spoke directly into my head rather than out loud. Normally, my familiar—like me—could hardly be bothered with social niceties.
“And don’t go pissin’ on peoples’ legs,” Caine added, ruffling up the fur on the tops of the twins’ heads. “It ain’t polite.”
“It’s just scent!” Fey cried happily, more than willing to participate in the twins’ misdeeds. Not like the little shit hadn’t been caught cajoling her brother and sister to urinate on their cousins’ toys so she could take them, dunk them in soapy water, and then keep them for herself. Her tiger cousins had noses far too sensitive to put up with wolf pee—even washed-off. “Scent, scent, scent.”
