Page 27 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
“I’m bound to the stone, the water, and the wood of this magical place. I can’t leave,” he says, averting his gaze.
“How do you mean?” I ask.
Apollo crosses the room to the front door and opens it. He looks back at me and then begins walking. After a few steps, his form distorts and the space around him ripples. He explodes into mist and drifts away on the wind.
“Apollo?” I yell, running to the door.
There athudbehind me and I yelp, whirling around. Apollo is on his back in the middle of the floor.
He groans, then starfishes and sighs. “Was that example enough?”
My mouth is hanging open. Magic. Right.
“I’m so sorry.” I drop to my knees beside him.
He looks up at me. “It’s no different than my life has been for a long time.”
I slide my fingers over his forehead, moving some of his light hair out of his face. “Doesn’t mean I can’t still be sorry.”
A smile curls the corner of his mouth. “Go into town. I can feel how much it means to you.”
I stand and offer him my hand. He takes it but hardly leans on me as he gains his feet.
“I’ll be back soon, so don’t cool your heels too much. We have a lot of work to do,” I say with mock sternness.
“As my witch commands,” he says with a shallow bow.
I pick up my bags and stride out the door. It’s freezing in the crisp morning air despite the season. Colorado mountains are something else. I get in my car and stare back at the door to the apartment. He’ll be okay without me for a few hours.
The engine of my RAV purrs to life, and I reverse out of the dirt driveway onto the main road. It takes me about fifteen minutes to get back into town, but I find the diner easily.
“Hey there, hon! You didn’t die your first night up at the haunted springs I see,” Irene greets me when I walk in. Her dark hair is tamed by a colorful bandana tied in a cute bow at the back of her neck, and there’s a coffee stain on her blue and white frock.
“I didn’t,” I say. “Looks like you’ve had a morning so far.”
She tugs on the stained patch of her dress. “Did it on my way in. Potholes are crazy in my neck of the woods. You here for those blueberry pancakes?”
My grin can’t be contained. “You bet. Could I get a spot near a wall outlet? Need to power up,” I say, shrugging the bags on either shoulder.
She snatches a menu and a rollup from the host stand. “Right this way.”
Irene drops the menu and the napkin on a cute little table far from the cook window. She dashes off, promising to bring me a coffee and a water before putting in my order. I plug in my powerbank and my laptop, then flip the lid open to get to work.
It’s time to nail down the contractors I emailed last week and tell them the state of things. There are a few window guys in town, two highly rated plumbers, and a handful of general carpenters. I want the red rugs ripped out pronto. Those things are heckin’ nasty.
My first email is from one of the plumbers.
Ms. Azarolla,
My apologies but I will not be able to take your project, or any in the future.
Best of luck,
-Alvin Lopez
My eyes narrow as I read the email again.
Or any in the future.
