Page 3 of Resting Witch Face
Yeah, exactly my sentiments.
“Where’s your other boot?” She followed the elaborate swirl of my finger until it pointed at the demon. My beautiful, precious boot was sticking out of his throat, covered in black blood and gore. Then she arched an eyebrow, which should’ve looked stupid on anyone except me, but on Sissily everything looked good. If she wasn’t my best friend and if I had magic, I would’ve hexed her with warts. I hoped the girl knew how lucky she was that I loved her like a sister. What surprised me more was she loved me back the same even though I was an asshole. At least most of the time.
“I’ve always told you fashion is a weapon if you learn how to use it. Did you believe me? Of course you didn’t.” My smirk earned me a twitch of her mouth. If anyone knew Sissily they’d know it for the huge win that was. She never smiled on a job.
“Danika is going to lose her shit.” We both shivered at that.
As if saying the name conjured her, my grandmother’s power preceded her presence, filling the warehouse with magic and saturating the air will the strong scent of ozone.
“Hazel Byrne.” I flinched when my name echoed in the silent building, and Sissily copied me sympathetically. “Show your face this instant.” My grandmother swooped in like a hungry vulture honing-in on a roadkill.
Me. I was the roadkill.
Thankfully, the lights came on inside the building, blinding me momentarily as thumps of many feet scattered throughout the warehouse. Our covenmates spread around the vast space like ants. I blinked like an idiot a few times until my vision cleared, and that was when I saw the look on her face. Cold, emerald eyes sharp enough to cut a diamond rolled over me from head to toe, assessing and judging while telling me she found me lacking in many ways. I gulped and tugged Sissily’s jacket closer. Then Danika’s unreadable gaze fell on Davon, who took a lesson from the Kishi demon and was starfishing it in the middle of the damn place. She stilled at the sight of a human cop and stabbed me with a glare afterwards.
“That was Sissily, not me.” The words burst from me so fast I almost spit on my lower lip.
“Snitch,” my best friend hissed, but her chin jutted out and she stepped closer to me.
“Every bitch for herself, remember?” I mumbled behind my hand when I raised it to wipe my mouth in case I was still drooling. Those Manhattans were buzzing in my head like a cloud of bees and making my tongue too thick for my mouth while I swayed where I stood. Oh boy was I screwed.
Sissily snorted but coughed to cover it up. Her reaction earned me a disapproving look from my grandmother, which I felt all the way to my soul. The woman saw everything no matter how hard I tried to hide it, and her hearing was better than a vampire’s. I didn’t have to guess because Iknewshe heard us.
I was the best fighter they had in our coven. Hand-to-hand or weapon combat, I could take them all down, and that included our high priest. But thanks to my lack of magic, I somehow always ended up looked down on, especially by Danika Byrne. Even when I did get the job done. One demon stabbed in the throat with a designer boot, case and point.
“We will speak back at the coven.” With flare, she spun on her heel, her long dress billowing behind her as she stormed out of the warehouse and left me grinding my teeth.
“Let’s go.” Linking her hand through mine, Sissily tugged me along with her because she probably assumed I would run. And honestly, I thought about it for like two point five seconds. It was pointless since everything I had was in the house I shared with my grandmother, but it sure was tempting. I wobble-limped alongside Sissily, glancing at my covenmates as they packed everything, including the Kishi demon I apprehended.
“She will chill out by the time we get back.” My best friend gnawed on her lower lip, not believing her own assurances.
“I don’t care.” My shrug didn’t fool her since I was petting my hair to smooth it and probably looked constipated just thinking about facing my grandmother behind closed doors.
Because Danika Byrnes never chilled. Like ever. My grandmother was born with a stick so far up her ass the Goddess herself couldn’t find it if she tried.
She was going to hand my ass to me, and I had no other choice but to take whatever she dished out. A sinking suspicion that it would involve cleaning churned in my stomach right beside the booze.
There was a first time for everything, though. She might’ve grown a heart in the last twelve hours. Or took it from some random jar and shoved it in her chest. My head tilted to the side, I contemplated it for a second.
One look at my grandmother’s disappearing form, with those stiff shoulders and that head held high, killed that hope. There was no escaping a punishment.
With a groan, I followed my best friend into the belly of the beast.
The whole way back to the coven, I kept trying to picture my eyeballs floating in a jar on top of my grandmother’s desk.
They were a nice shade of golden honey, if I could say so myself. I’d have them in a jar too if I didn’t need them.
2
The Gatekeeper’s coven was located dab smack in the middle of Cleveland, of all places. The temple walls stretched high toward the sky like the open mouths of baby birds waiting for a worm to fall into their gaping maws. A domed ceiling made of glass to better see the full moon each month covered almost half the block. Made out of black stone, the building looked menacing, and the three keys – a symbol representing Hecate – painted in blood red above the tall double doors of the entrance stood out stark against it. Since it was late at night, magical flames were shooting seven feet tall on each side of the stars leading to it, casting it in an eerie-hellish hue. No wonder humans gave us a wide berth.
Pausing at the bottom of the marble steps that would lead me inside, I glanced up and down the street. An urge to book it down the sidewalk and find a place to hide for a day or two was very tempting. However, with only one boot and still mostly drunk, there was no way I could outrun Sissily. She might sympathize with me, but she was a stickler for the rules, and she was smart enough not to want to anger Danika, unlike me. I had no doubt she’d tackle me and drag me kicking and screaming inside by the hair. She did that once in middle school when I didn’t want to go back inside with her after lunch break. The humans mulling around would be no help, either. Ever since we came out of the closet, so to speak, they gawked like we were circus freaks but wouldn’t come closer than a few feet, as if magic was contagious and they might get infected. I wish it was.
There were exceptions like Davon the cop, but those were few and far between. We were “the others,” and unless they needed help, humans wanted nothing to do with us. At least there were no pitchforks or burnings at the stake involved, so not bad I guessed. That was why my coven was very strict. The government told us we were all good to live among humans as long as no problems came up byanysupernatural being, not just us. So, the high priest and my grandmother—to be honest it was probably all her because the priest was practically a mute when around her—decided we would boss the supernatural world around. The magi police force was just a front for posturing. We were the ones that got down and dirty. And destroyed perfectly new pairs of designer boots in the process, I’d like to add.
Sissily took my elbow and waddled me up the steps when I took too long to move. Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I allowed my fear to choke me until I reached the double doors, and then I squared my shoulders. Whatever issues I had would be left at the door. No one needed to know my shit. It was none of their business, anyway.
The inside of the building was also painted black, with a hallway like one long intestine twisting around offices, ritual rooms, guest reception halls, and the library, of course. Our pride and joy, with knowledge gathered for generation after generation by magical families. It was the largest collection in the world, and the love of my grandmother’s life. I personally used it to hide from idiots when they got annoying, or to pretend I was busy when we had a ritual scheduled. If I was busy, I couldn’t participate and see all the pitying looks or sneers thrown my way.
