Page 97 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
This truly was a choice of his own freewill.
“Where is the photo album?” Hex said, his voice low and simmering. He was close to losing his temper entirely. “The one with all of Mom’s childhood pictures in it.”
“What on earth would you need that for?” Lulu asked, but Hex just shook his head.
“I want the album, and I want you to give it to me freely. After what you did, is that too much to ask?”
Lulu looked at him with suspicion, but I was impressed. I could see where Hex was going with this. Even though he was in pain, he was willing to use it along with his grandmother’s guilt to get what he wanted.
“Because I just learned who my father is,” Hex said quietly, letting his gaze flick over to Monster. Their eyes met, and I saw Hex blink rapidly in response before cocking his head slightly. Monster turned away with a slight smirk, rubbing his hand over his jaw. After another dose of slug slime coffee this morning, I was having a much easier time resisting him. I wasn’t sure if Hex would be affected by his pheromones or not. I mean, I hoped not for his sake, seeing as they were probably half-brothers. But Monster’s pheromones didn’t make distinctions like that. Poor Hex. “I want to use magic to call on my mother, and I can’t do that without a meaningful item of hers. Give me the album.”
Lulu hesitated but, after a time, she rose to her feet and left the room. Hex remained standing until she returned, handing out a leather-bound tomb with a fucking eyeball on the front of it. As Hex hefted it up, the eye swiveled over to me and blinked.
Not unsurprising. Most witches kept spelled albums. The photos sometimes moved, just a wave or a wink, and if you leaned in and sniffed them, you could pull in a briny breath from a day at the beach, or the charcoal scent of a bonfire on a solstice eve. If the witch who took the photo was particularly skilled, sometimes you could simply close your eyes and rest your fingers on the photo and maybe, just maybe feel the hand of the person you loved take hold and squeeze you back.
Hex tapped the spelled lock on the side and it opened. I watched as he frowned and flipped quickly through the pages before slamming it shut again.
“All this time, you knew she was suffering and—”
“Your mother had a purpose, Hex, and that was to have you. She did that, and I’m sorry she suffered for it.” Lulu’s voice broke slightly, her gaze shifting over to Monster just briefly before returning to her grandson. “But it was for a bigger cause.”
“You sacrificed your own daughter to the demon king in order to get a grandson that you could use to steal Hael’s throne. What do you get out of all of this, Lulu Witch?” Spectre asked, his voice calm, but disturbingly so. He was getting angry. On Hex’s behalf? I stifled an almost-smile.
Yep, I had to nurture this bromance for the greater good.
“The fulfilment of centuries of hard work,” Lulu replied easily, gesturing in the direction of the dining room. When I craned my head around the corner to look, I saw that the previously empty table was now set for seven, cranberry-colored candles flickering, the food arranged on fancy serving dishes.
The cat had done all that—with magic.
Connard was currently on the table, lapping up gravy from a fancy gravy boat, much to Lulu’s familiar’s chagrin and annoyance. The two cats glared at one another over the gravy dish, but at least they didn’t come to blows.
Poor Bastet was once again trapped at my parents’ house with the kids. I tried not to think too hard about how today’s drop-off had gone down. Mom was pissed at me. Suze was there, trying to place peacekeeper, and my father kept giving me pleading looks to let my mother’s snide comments go.
She was having a hard time adjusting to the effects of the curse; I could see that. But I also couldn’t give into her demands to return Hex to Coven Wyrmwood. Giving up my soulmate would not assuage her pain.
We seated ourselves around the table, with Hex on his grandmother’s right, me on her left. Monster sat at the opposite end while Caine and Spectre sat next to me and Argent took up on Hex’s right.
It was awkward as fuck, made more so by the direction of the conversation.
In many households, family get-togethers are sources of conflict and contempt. Who likes what stupid human politician (hint: they’re literally all garbage), who likes which football team, white or dark meat, canned or fresh cranberry sauce. Whatever.
Witches, apparently, had many of the same issues.
“So, care to explain how this family dynamic works?” Lulu began, fixing a plate and then offering it to Hex. He glared at her and set about making his own plate. For cats’ sake, I would sure as hell hope a thirty-two year old witch man could make his own damn plate.
