Page 33 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“Ah. I’d ask how we’re progressing, but your expression confirms my pressing sense of urgency was not in vain.”

Leave it to a vampire to speak with such outdated language—it takes me a few extra seconds to strip away the flowery language and figure out what in the Hecate they’re trying to say.

I lift my chin as I bury the truth of this past week deeper within me. All I’ve managed to do is sit in the forest, surroundedby golden threads I should be figuring out how to manipulate, fighting loneliness and self-pity.

Even now, my magic hums beneath my skin, restless and frustrated. Angry at not being used, yet utterly ineffective anytime I attempt to peel back the layers of this realm and return to the Hollow.

Something I’m painfully aware I could do when I had Diego as a grounding rod.

There was something about his infuriating, delicious distraction that countered the fear of peeking into the dark abyss. Everyone who didn’t have to travel there kept acting like it was no big deal. As if I were Dora the Explorer, skipping off on an adventure with a map that led to my impending doom, and seriously, I’d kill for a klepto monkey right now.

“Well, since your pressing sense of urgency knows so much,” I say, unable to keep the defensiveness from my voice, “you can go ahead and ask if it can do any better.”

I swear the corner of Diego’s mouth lifts the tiniest bit, then I have to remind myself I don’t care about his smiles. Same goes for his hulking muscles and how he stalks across our living room with booming steps, back and forth, back and forth—as if he’s got a certain number of steps to hit on his watch and he refuses to meet his goal.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Riven says, all contemplative, ignoring my barb completely. “The Arcane Tribunal that’s been eradicating sections of werewolves and vampires along the east coast is starting their trek northwest. We’ve only met their welcome party, and our spies say…”

Riven’s features sharpen, the line of her collarbone snapping tight. “They have an entire army, trained in stealth tactics since the days of the Inquisition—since they dragged witches from their homes and burned them at the stake. Anyone considered a monster was brutally murdered or driven into hiding.

“We’re not only going to be outnumbered soon, we’re going to be…” They lick their lips, and their voice pitches ominously louder and higher. “Outmatched. These hunters can’t be glamoured—not without the loom. They have a whole arsenal of weapons created with the sole purpose of killing you and me. We’ve already lost hundreds—many of whom were hiding out in sparsely populated forests just like us. And by us, I mean vampire and werewolf alike.”

The room grows eerily quiet as what this information means sinks in.

“They’ll keep the witches alive, though. As long as you’ll join their cause and do their bidding.” Riven stretches an arm toward me, their fingertips barely grazing my cheek before Diego’s suddenly there between us. “They want you as badly as we need your help, they just don’t yet know you’re the key.”

I crane my body, peeking around Diego’s massive torso to maintain eye-contact with Riven. I’d like to say my bullshit-o-meter is highly accurate, though we’ve all been fooled by a pro now and again.

In this moment, the only thing I see in Riven’s features and the ultra-blue of their irises is genuine fear. Fear from a vampire who appears completely unbothered by the four giant werewolves glaring with murderous intentions from inside enemy territory.

“It’s not fair, what we’re asking, or that the fate of several supernatural factions relies on you, Natalia Burroughs De la Costa from the Oldenwilde Coven.”

I swallow, for way more reasons than my name now being an overwhelming mouthful.

“But here we are, and we need you. Time to make a decision.” Riven’s voice lowers and glides over my skin, silky smooth, their gaze pinned to mine as if we’re the only two in the room. “We don’t need someone to try, we need them to retrieve a weaponthat’ll finally put an end to our slaughter. And regretfully, we’re out of time.”

My throat clamps from the pressure of the mission, along with a week of failures. “I’m doing my best, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dread rises up, replacing the air in my lungs until my head swims with the lack of oxygen. “I can’t ask my mother—she’s detrimental to my magic.”

Because harsh and unimpressed is all she’ll ever be when it comes to me.

“Well perhaps what I’m proposing doesn’t sound so bad in comparison, then,” Riven says, and uh-oh, they’re getting totally carried away with all that relief on their face.

I’m still broken.

I might be that way permanently.

“There’s a place where the veil is thin, where magic can be channeled and wielded with greater ease.”

Hope sends the beats of my heart racing, this idea that I could be useful calling to me. It’d be a bonus if it helped release some of this pent-up energy constantly buzzing beneath the surface.

“I can take you to it.” Riven reaches for me again, but Diego bristles and fully puts himself between us, cutting off eye-contact and everything.

He stretches every inch of his height to the limit. “Over my dead body.”

Riven shrugs a shoulder, their smirk infallible. “If those are your terms, I happily accept.”

I have to stifle my smile so nobody goes calling me a traitor, but I can’t help but envy and admire that type of badassery. Maybe they can teach that to me, too.

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