Page 39 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

I nervously swallowed while eyeing the road. The wheel must’ve been enchanted, because we stayed on course.

“How much?” I asked him.

He rubbed his chin while eyeing Ethyl and Des in the rearview mirror. “Let’s say, eighty euros a night.”

“We’ll take it,” Ethyl blurted.

Though we couldn’t telepathically speak to each other, I was able to convey my thoughts to my friend with a look over my shoulder.Are you crazy? You don’t even know this man. He could be a succubus.

She tapped her eyes and smiled, and I knew she was trying to reassure me because she didn’t see the obvious sign of demon possession.

“What’s the name of your bed-and-breakfast?” I asked him.

His grin nearly stretched ear to ear. “La Bella Casa.”

Ethyl tapped her phone screen then held out the phone to me with a triumphant grin. “How quaint. Look at this place.”

I took the phone from her and swiped through pictures of an old stone building with a pretty terrace garden and a view of downtown Rome. “Oh, it’s adorable. Does that price include meals?” I asked Antonio.

He cringed, and his face flushed a deep crimson. “My wife, she no such good cook, but I cut some salami, cheese, and olives. The French saycharcuterie.” He flashed an infectious grin. “But we Italians say,salumi(sal-oo-me).”

“Sounds good.” Free salami, a cheap room, and most importantly, no gnome-roaches. I leaned back in my seat, and for the first time since disembarking, heaved a breath of relief. “Thanks, Antonio.”

IT TOOK ALMOST TWOhours to reach our destination after the freeway had been reduced to one lane due to a major accident. A car on the other side of the dividing wall, now a burned-out shell, scattered debris to both sides of the freeway. I sent a silent prayer to the Goddess to take the victims into the light, for it was clear nobody survived.

After we passed through the portico of the old stone wall known as the Aurelian Wall, we were instantly transported from a sprawling, modern city to Ancient Rome. What humans didn’t realize was that even though the wall surrounding Rome was roughly twelve miles in length, there was another eight-mile wall, the Murus de Magicus, within the Aurelian, visible only to striga eyes. Though we dwelled in the same space as those tourists in Rome, we were in an entirely different dimension. Confusing and weird, I know, but striga preferred to live separately from humans, especially after the medieval witch hunts. Humans generally didn’t like what they didn’t understand, and we preferred not to burn at the stake or be dunked in hot oil. Not that many striga had been executed. Humans mostly slaughtered their own kind who had the misfortune of being quirky or simply disliked.

The Divinus de Magicus was located beneath the city in underground caverns protected with so many concealment and blocking enchantments, that only witches who had permission from the Divinus higher-ups could get through their wards. Even though I was an alpha witch who had mastered ward breaking at an early age, I doubted even I could break through their wards, which meant I’d have to come up with a creative way to get inside. Either that or throw the world’s biggest fit in front of their entrance until someone let me in.

As we drove down one narrow road and then another, I was in awe of the sights, from beautiful stone statues to the magnificent, ancient Colosseum. Then Antonio passed down a much narrower road, and we drove beneath what looked like a sheer curtain, the Murus de Magicus, and we were instantly transported to an enchanted area visible only to striga.

I turned around and waved in front of Des. “Look outside,” I mouthed to him.

He took off his headphones and finally pulled away from his screen. “Whoa!”

There were striga of all shapes and sizes, including a large variety of unseen. In the magical world, we were broken into two categories, the seen and unseen. Those of us who looked more human were the seen while those creatures who would cause humans to have heart attacks while simultaneously crapping their pants were the unseen. Humans couldn’t see them, which was a good thing. Most unseen, like the Anubis that worked for Gus, had the option of entering the husk realm by using a glamour spell to make them look human. The same type of spell Ethyl used to conceal her wings.

The unseen generally lived in the bigger cities with larger magical populations, except for gnomes. They lived everywhere and caused more mischief than all magical creatures combined. Gnomes were notorious thieves, though they generally returnedthe items they stole, choosing to misplace them while disorienting humans and sometimes even lower level striga. The humans who lost their cell phones, glasses, and shoes several times a day usually had gnome infestations in their homes. Striga knew to call an exterminator when things went missing. The gnomes’ favorite pastime was watching humans aimlessly wander the house looking for their misplaced items. But we saw no gnomes outside. They were most likely hiding within the city’s walls.

We did see dragons, tauruses, satyrs, werewolves, vampires, trolls, and elves—all congregating in the town square where various vendors set up tents to sell their wares.

“Ohh, a bazaar!” Ethyl squealed. “We must go shopping!”

“I’m not here to shop,” I reminded her, then I bit my lip when Antonio’s brows raised. “At least, not until after we’ve rested,” I added, pretending we were just tourists on an adventure.

The statues in the town square were mostly mythical monsters like dragons, hydras, and wyverns, and then my heart stopped when I saw a golden sphinx statue in the center of the town square. He was standing over a flaming bird emerging from a hatched egg. The sphinx and the phoenix. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen these mythical creatures together. My parents had left me a necklace with the same emblem, a sphinx with a phoenix emerging from his heart. They’d never explained to me what it meant, though I’d learned in magical history classes that the sphinx had been the phoenix’s guardian in ancient times. According to legend, the phoenix wasn’t actually a bird, but a symbol of a white witch that had godlike powers. Of course, it was only fantasy. There were no gods in our world. Only demons. Very bad ones.

I rubbed my temple as that awful migraine increased. Ugh. I sure hoped Antonio’s home had a soaking bathtub. I’d need that, plus a glass of wine to get over this.

A large mob of striga, some with horns, some with hoods, and others with tails and claws, waved signs and paced in front of the statue. I tried to read some of the signs, though they were in Italian.

Antonio shook his head and clucked his tongue while staring at the protestors.

“What do their signs say?” I asked him.

He frowned. “Justice for all striga.”

I pointed to another sign, mouthing the words. “Diablo Medici. What’s that?”

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