Page 57 of XOXO

My pants keep rolling down and force me to constantly hoist the crotch up. Between the low-slung waistband and the knotted midriff shirt, I feel incredibly exposed. My duffel swings haphazardly from my shoulder.

If this ruins the design on my favorite tee, I will rage.

Perhaps it’s also my askew hair, which I’ve unbraided and made a futile attempt to finger comb.

I suppose we’re intended to look like we’ve been rolling around in bed with Edo all night. A thick arm is wrapped around each of us, and the calloused hand on my bare waist is more fun than I should allow.

Brynn’s tinted gloss is smeared across his jawline.

The two of us stagger against him, both to make it seem like we’re drunk and also because he’s that much taller than us and it’s hard to walk with him draped around us.

She giggles—that’s right, Brynn giggles—and leans across him.

“Try to look like you’re happy, Vi,” she whispers.

“We can go back to my room and I can make you happy for real,” Edo adds.

“It’s a challenge to decide which of you is worse,” I reply.

We pass another mobster who’s jettisoned his jacket and kept his holster on. The guy nods to Edo.

“Are you some kind of big deal?” I mutter.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I’ve got respect. That’ll get us into the vault for what you need.”

More mobsters pass but no one stops us.

A few even make crass comments.

If they care that we’re witches, then it doesn’t show. They may not know. Lower level supernaturals can’t always detect the magical signatures in those around them. Some of the guards we pass are human.

The stronger the magic, the more sensitive you are. I’ve always been a B student in that area, which is plenty to get by unless heavy magic is being used.

The atmosphere grows stuffy and cold, although we never move down stairs.

Edo leads us through winding caverns until we reach a secured room. Inside, crisscrossing steel bars like a jail cell protect the interior.

“Edo!” the guard says jovially. “Been a minute.”

“Yup. Just promised my friends here they could see the vault. You know, something to remember me by.”

The guy smirks and takes the clipboard from a cubby attached to the wall. He scribbles while he monotones the rules to us.

“No touching. No taking. No sex of any kind.”

He eyes me particularly, and I can’t help but be a little insulted. The disguise is decent, but not that egregious.

“You got it, Carey,” Edo replies, apparently oblivious.

He shuffles us in our three-wide formation into the cell.

If this has been an elaborate plot to trap us, then he’s succeeded.

But, shockingly, Edo proves reliable.

The big guy leads us past stacks and shelves not all that unlike our own at the cabin.

Unlike ours, there isn’t a speck of dust to be seen in the sterile, concrete-encased room.

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