Page 93 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
Cranberry-popcorn strands, rings of colored construction paper, wooden clothespin reindeers, popsicle stick pentagrams, witch hats and broomsticks made out of salt dough, bats cut out of felt with googly eyes, vampire fangs carved out of marshmallows and dipped in red food coloring to bloody the tips.
The usual holiday stuff.
“Graceley Freyja Spells.” Spectre emphasized the use of my full name. “Loving wife. Mother of my children. Don’t take it the wrong way when I say this, but …” He flashed fangs at me as he smiled wide. “There is no way in fucking Hael that I’m letting you visit Kingdom Noir; it isn’t happening. If I have to strap you down and spell you still, I’ll do it.”
“If we don’t get the artifact, then we can’t do the spell.” I frowned heavily and glanced back at Hex, his eyes on the pair of us. He looked like he was about to be sick. Not that I blamed him. Finding out the mother you’ve hated your whole life was actually broken by the demon king’s magic … that’s a lot to take in. “As you know, nobody else can do this; I’m …” I cleared my throat and blushed slightly. “I’m carrying the Witch Queen; we need her blood. Since it just so happens to be located within me, this is my burden to take on.”
My mind drifted back to Coven Northbank and their last-minute bail-out. I’d mentioned it to Mom, but she hadn’t commented. Either she knew nothing, or she knew far too much. I’d look into it eventually. You know, when I found a single spare second between researching this spell, dealing with Monster’s sudden reappearance in my life, integrating a new soulmate into my family, being pregnant, running a store, having four kids four-and-under.
That kinda stuff.
I took another sip of my mulled cider. Once again, this was a treat from Spectre. He’d simmered cider with orange slices, cloves, cinnamon sticks, star anise, and ginger, sweetened it with maple syrup, and served it to me in a heat-proof wineglass. The stuff was spelled, too, for mental clarity and creativity. Usually, he made mulled wine, but um, seeing as I’d accidentally found myself impregnated with Hex’s child …
“As I also know, we’re all still tired from removing the curse on your mom.” Spec reached up to put his hands on either side of my face, his cool skin a comforting balm against the heat of frustration that was rising in me.
I knew how to read Spectre, and I was already fairly certain he was going to take big-time convincing to agree to this. And he had to. Because, apparently, my child with Hex was the fabled Witch Queen. Whether it was true or not was irrelevant: Coven Wyrmwood and Cabal Ungeist believed it. They’d take my baby and slit her throat in the name of their fucked-up spell if we didn’t do something to stop them.
Monster was right: what other options did we have? Either we closed the Fire Veil for good or else we lived a life of uncertainty at every turn, always wondering if our child was in danger, if we were being hunted, watched, if Hex might be summoned.
“Why don’t we leave your family until last, hmm?” I said, taking another sip of my cider and raising both brows at my husband. “That’ll give us time to come up with an idea. I won’t put myself or any of you in danger, but we don’t have time to write a new spell.” I pointed at the book. As interesting as I found alternative magical theories, this wasn’t the time or place to begin experimenting. A spell of this magnitude would take years to brew from scratch.
“Don’t forget,” Spec growled at me, grabbing me by the hips and yanking me closer to him. He smelled like mulling spices, and I was here for it. Underneath it all, there was the natural scent of vampires—like sweet, ripe apples and copper pennies. “I know you, Grace Spells. You take big risks for the people you love.”
I smirked at him.
“Well then, I guess you don’t have much to worry about, right? If I’m pregnant, and I end up killed by vampires, that sort of defeats the purpose of all this.” I glanced back at Hex to find that he was still watching me and Spectre. I sensed a bromance brewing between the two of them, and I was willing to do whatever it took to nurture that. Spectre sighed dramatically, but I had a point. Normally, I would probably risk my life for something like this—even against Spec’s wishes. But not right now. He was safe from my daredevil bullshit for the time being. “Why don’t we start with your grandmother?” I told Hex because, to be quite honest, I was nervous about his family, too.
