Page 10 of Resurrecting the Witch
I handed her my thermos that had Winni Sanderson’s quote, “Another glorious morning, makes me SICK!” in fancy font and purple glitter.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist just because you decided you were too good to fuck on your first date.”
I rolled my eyes. She had asked last night why I didn’t take him home and climb his tall body like a tree, and I honestly hadn’t had a good answer for her. I wanted Patrick, but I also didn’t want to give him all of me so soon.
He also kept saying over and over how he was going to nail this first date, that he was the best at everything, and he knew that first dates only ended with a kiss. He said he had to set a good example for the rest of his Alpha Group since he was their leader.
Patrick was nothing if not a cocky bastard.
“Look at that fucking grin,” Lennox squealed and jumped up and down so her light pink hair that stopped at her shoulders bounced around her head. She was naturally always at a hundred ten percent energy. It had taken a while to get used to, but once I had, it became endearing. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
My phone pinged at that exact moment. Lennox grabbed it before I could and read the message out loud. “Patrick: Good morningmo peata. *winky face emoji* I know I’m supposed to wait, but I’ve decided we should meet again soon,” she said in a deep baritone then immediately switched back to the high squeal to say, “Oh. My. God. He is so cute already. What ismo peata?”
“Don’t get me started.” I reached for my thermos, now filled with a pumpkin spice chai latte with an extra shot of espresso. “It means pet. And he knows I hate it.”
“Mhmm,” she hummed to herself. “I’m sure you totally hate it.”
Then she started typing back, and I had to snatch the phone before she hit send. I was too late. I looked at the message thread and saw to my mortification a message only Lennox could think was acceptable.
Me: Meet me at The Witch’s Brew at 12 for lunch.
Me: And you can only call me pet if I can call you daddy. *sweating emoji*
“Jesus Christ, Lennox.”
“What?! I know you have a Daddy kink based on your Kindle library.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t need her telling Patrick that.
“I guess I’ll see you at twelve.”
“I love you!” she called after me as I left to walk across to Town Hall.
A few residents said hello to me as I crossed the street, but most knew not to bother me with anything serious until I had my office hours. Goddess, most went to Guillermo at this point because he was more personable than me. I didn’t mind one bit. It was nice to count on someone even if it was a struggle for me.
“I’m going to kill Lennox.”
My thermos was still warm in my hands when by the time I sat down in the worn black leather chair that probably had a permanent indent of my ass cheeks from its regular use. The muted, gray-colored walls of Guillermo’s office had become a sanctuary for me in the way few places had since I lost my family. His office was across the hall from mine in Town Hall, and it was an inviting room complete with several plants adorning the various shelves. I took a deep inhale in as the pothos sang silently to the green magick in my blood; some of the leaves even bent gently toward me when I entered as if they sensed my presence. One wall had a built-in bookcase with Guillermo’s personal collection of literature, ranging from psych textbooks and self-help works to fantasy and romance. I loved my dear friend, and his eclectic tastes in all forms of entertainment was endearing to me, even when he made Lennox and I read a bizarre alien romance that changed our opinion of him forever. The repetitivetick-tock-tick-tockof the small cuckoo clock hanging on the wall used to bother me but now comforted me in the reliable nature of the noise, especially when the adorable miniature Morticia and Gomez Addams characters came out to spin in a circle at the top of every hour.
“What’d she do this time?” Guillermo chuckled.
He, Lennox, and I were closer than was probably normal for most folks, but they were my family and I loved them.
“Texted Patrick to ask if I could call him daddy before I even had a first sip of coffee.”
He snorted in response and shook his head. “Wow. That’s bold even for our Lenn.”
He sat across from me in his usual spot, slouched in a wing-backed leather chair that matched the oversized one I was in. Guillermo was intentionally unassuming and disarming in how he dressed himself each day since he had to connect with his patients, not scare them off with the sheer power he had in him. Today he wore his usual graphic T-shirt (a pop art version of Angus Young in his schoolboy uniform and guitar playing notes that were slightly shaped like skulls) and black jeans with his signature black-and-white checkered Vans. The thick purple square shaped glasses made his nerdy chic look come together, but he couldn’t do much to hide the bright ring of blue around his piercing dark brown eyes indicating his water magick and betraying how powerful he really was. His hair was a mop of messy curls on his head that he didn’t need to style because the less it looked like he tried, the less threatening he presented. Everything about Guillermo’s appearance was calculated. Even the lack of wrinkles in his light brown skin made him look young, not even a day over thirty-five, despite the fact that I knew he was born in Uruguay over a century ago.
“She was in rare form.”
We sat in comfortable silence while he stared at me. Sometimes he started our sessions like this, waiting for me to initiate the conversation. Feigning ignorance to the joy I was sure radiated from every edge of my aura, I simply smiled at him as I sipped on my coffee.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much in a while.” He paused and took me in further. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or do you want me to beg?”
Guillermo had the audacity to smirk as if he already knew what, orwho, I was smiling about. Even smirking, he was handsome in a way most famous people were, with an effortless charm that oozed from his every pore. It was too bad he was a smug bastard, but that’s why we got along. If he weren’t the most powerful water witch I’d ever come across and the heir to the most powerful coven in South America, he could have been a model with his features.
“You should smile more, it’s good for you.”
