Page 26 of Where Exorcists Cannot Lie

But seeing Taz happy and radiant made me ecstatic. So things couldn’t have been better, the slider, visitors and all.

Alarmed by the chomping sound from the writing bureau, I walked over to investigate its source.

“Shit, Tazzik, no,” I groaned. “You little bugger. Look at what you’ve done now. Fuck, he’s going to have a meltdown.”

I contemplated the damage my spiritual cat inflicted on the magical herbs Taz grew in little pots on his desk. He used them as an ink dye to produce his custom-made and expensive talismans. It seemed Tazzik had held a right feast on the lot before I clocked his extracurricular activities. I knew the herbs wouldn’t cause the kitten any harm apart from making him, perhaps, a tad livelier for a few hours. The plants weren’t as lucky. However long I looked at them, they continued to be obliterated—only the sad, leafless stalks had remained. My fault for not paying attention, but hats off to anyone who succeeded in keeping a mogõ away from anything that radiated strong Magic at every turn in the house full of magical shite.

Rebuked, Tazzik offered me a wide and very green stare, still chewing on the evidence of his crime. Realising he was in trouble, he flopped onto his back with a small meow, rolling over the desktop and showing his belly.

And what could I do?

I sighed and supplied scratches to the soft fur, resigning myself to the thought I led my mogõ astray by rewarding his naughty behaviour.

Tazzik sniffed at my hand and gave it a lick, too adorable for his own good.

“Don’t fret, Tazzik,” I murmured. “Let’s just hide those pots for now. Maybe the bastards will spring back before Taz notices.” I rearranged the objects by moving the remnants of the herbs to the rear and camouflaging them with help from a few books and an inkwell.

“Ay, what are you so worried about?” The slider gave an obnoxious tongue click. “The pocket-size Mage? I thought you were the Alpha around here. Shouldn’t you have the final word in everything?”

“I do.” I scooped Tazzik into my pocket, imposing a temporary ban on his independence. “My final words, more often than not, are ‘Yes, Taz.” Or ‘That’s fine, darling’.”

He guffawed. “He’s got you under his thumb so bad. What a waste. But he’s not around now. If you wanted, I could show you one hell of a good time.” The slider winked, twirling a strand of his hair while pushing out his chest.

I squinted at him. “Keep straining like that, and you’ll put that poor woman’s back out. Then we’ll have to call in a healer and those fuckers are never around when you need them.”

Every time I caught myself badmouthing the medics, which came as second nature to an Exorcist, I marvelled at how much I’d grown to identify as a member of my profession. Who would have thought that possible a few years back?

“Suit yourself. Your loss.” The slider rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Inuel?” Taz’s voice and Xendra’s laughter travelled from downstairs. They must’ve returned from their shopping spree at the market. “We’re in the kitchen.”

“Coming,” I hollered and glanced one last time at the bureau to ensure the new composition didn’t attract attention. I turned to the slider. “Breathe a word about it and there'll be no smoke for you tonight.”

The slider, heavily addicted to aromatised yellow root tobacco, which we made available to him once daily, growled at me, baring his teeth. But the look in his eyes told me we had reached an understanding.

Not one free scrap of the tabletop could be seen for all the produce and fresh flowers heaped on it. Taz and Xendra must have used Magic to carry all that lot back.

“Are we planning on feeding a small country?” I said on entering the kitchen.

Taz snorted.

My gaze locked with his right away.

“Where’s Tazzik?” he asked. “I got him some juicy prawns as a treat.”

At number eighteen, Birch Lane, we liked to run a never-ending spoil-the-mogõ competition.

I released Tazzik on the floor by his set of porcelain bowls.

The little furry gobbler meowed with joy and got down to scoffing the seafood, clearly treating the Magic infused herbal salad he’d just polished off as an appetiser.

As always, I felt an invisible force dragging me to Taz’s side. Staying apart and not touching him in any space we shared had become an unfeasible notion. So I grabbed him by his waist from behind and gave him a couple of kisses on the side of his neck. Gratified by his contented mmm and with the comforting weight of his body resting against my chest, I leaned backwards using the support of the cupboard behind me. I allowed my nostrils to enjoy the delicious smell of Taz and… cinnamon sugar?

“I smell pretzels,” I murmured and extended my hand.

Taz’s back shook with laughter as he took a paper wrapper from his pocket and placed it in my outstretched palm. “But you’re only allowed a couple for now. We’re going to have dinner soon.”

“Nothing. Says. I love you. Like. Warm. Fried dough,” I said in between bites.

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