Page 81 of Wickedly Ever After
“What was that about?” Ida raised her eyebrows.
“His idea of a joke,” Hector said, glancing at the neon sign now advertising cocktail hour at nine, complete with cocks. “I didn’t hire him for his sense of humor, obviously.” He was red in the face, and now she was blushing too.
“Go on up to the room. I can almost promise you a skeleton won’t jump out of the bed, but you might want to draw your wand anyway. I’ll send Hari up when he and Tinbit are done seeing to the pony. Would you kindly see if Cear would like to stay in the lobby’s fireplace? It’s roomier than the ones upstairs. And probably less vile.” Hector turned away from her.
Ida carried Cear past the table and into the main room, but glanced back down in time to see Hector pull a small key from his pocket and set it on the counter. An uneasiness settled in her stomach that didn’t feel like the natural reaction to staring at pickled eyeballs.
She didn’t like the way Sebastian had looked at her when he said, “Oh.”
37
Hector
I have an unfortunately soft heart. I first noticed it when I cut it out after the horrible night I spent by his bedside, wishing I could’ve been anything but who I was—Hector West, a witch, no fit companion for anyone.
It hurt, of course, like everything that bleeds must hurt. But when I went to set it in the box, still thumping hard in my hand, it slipped, and fell in the garden. It felt very smooth under my fingertips, but malleable, far too weak for the work I needed to do, and I was glad it was gone. Finally, I’d taken the first step every witch must take if they hope to keep their feelings under control.
I buried it under the apple tree in my garden, where I would’ve buried him.
(Editor: Redact entire passage—too personal)
A Thousand Years of Wickedness: A Memoir
Hector West
“Believe me, it’s for the best,” Sebastian said. “But are you sure you don’t want to consult with the lady first? You could let her know she’s not getting stuck with the thousand-year-old virgin, which should cheer you both up.”
Gently, Hector took his heart from the box. Dusty, covered in a faint crust of earth, it still smelled faintly of roses and blood. The dark red organ beat patiently in his hand, a little unhappily, reminding him of what he was giving up, whether it brought him relief or not. If he kept it any longer, he felt he’d never let it go, and he had to. The next time Ida looked at him with that hurt, angry expression on her face, he’d drop at her feet and tell her she was right, that Happily-Ever-After had to end, and then they could be together.
“That isn’t necessary,” he said, holding it out.
Sebastian took it from Hector’s hands and set it back in the box. “You should’ve given it to me long ago. Well, better late than never.”
Hector couldn’t shake the feeling it was probably far too late.
Sebastian gave him a regular room, and to his surprise, he found only one skeleton in the closet. He broke its fingers for trying to throttle him, and told it to find Tinbit and give him the room number while he got a bath. He settled in the large tub that decided not to eat him after he fed it a few cakes of liver-scented soap first. He wondered how Ida was coping with the Honeymoon Suite.
He lay back and stared up at the blood-tinged ceiling. At last, it would finally be over, and good riddance. He was heartily tired of fighting the feeling that the best thing he could do right at this moment was to run to Ida’s room wrapped in a towel and apologize. Or better yet, save her from a bloodthirsty skeleton, embrace her like a knight rescuing his damsel in distress, and then maybe fall into the bed for a whole different kind of activity involving bones. With a groan he submerged in the hot water, gripping his cock. The sooner Sebastian ate his heart, the better.
***
Tinbit dragged in a half hour later.
“What took you so long?” Hector snapped. The bath had not helped. Neither had taking Tinbit’s suggestion of what to do with unwanted sexual energy. He sat at the desk now, poring over his books, empty, aching, miserable, and confused. This should be over by now. How long did it take a ghoul to eat a heart?
Tinbit slammed his boots off by the door. “The pony had a thorn. You try putting a poultice on one of those demons and see how long it takes you.” He glared at the eager skeleton who politely hung himself in the closet. “You didn’t need to send that awful thing for me. It mooned me with its pelvis before it gave me your message.”
“And what was Hari doing during all this?” Hector said.
“He put a twitch on the damned thing until I could get its leg wrapped and then he trotted off to bed.”
“Nothing else?”
Tinbit folded his arms over his chest. “Meaning did I strip him, suck him, and tumble him in the hay before sending him back to Ida?”
Hector’s cheeks warmed. “I…I didn’t mean—”
“Actually, you did,” Tinbit said, rolling his eyes. “You’re just too much of a prude to say it. And since you asked, no, I didn’t. The thought didn’t even occur to me. Hay isn’t all that fun to roll around in—sticks you in the worst places. Almost as bad as that pea gravel in the greenhouse.” He sat down beside the smoky fire to peel off his boots.
