Page 46 of Hex and the City
That was part of it, for sure, always living with the nagging feeling that I wasn’t up to par with other mages, other finders. The Alcantarabruhasdidn’t keep tomes and grimoires and records, the traditions always passed down by tongue. Mom and I always thought we’d have more time for me to learn, to pick up the trade.
Until we didn’t.
I snuck a peek to make sure Max wasn’t looking anymore, or worse, that he’d left the table to come and find me. I sprinted past the façade of the bar, unsure of where I was going. Not far. I wasn’t running, wasn’t on the move. At least not yet. I just needed somewhere to breathe, to think.
WhatwouldMom think, me moping in the dark of an alley with sloped shoulders and a long face? She’d box my ears, tell me to snap out of it. She’d tell me to stop clinging to the old ghosts of the past, to cherish our memories.
She’d tell me to accept that I was alone. The last Alcantara witch, the only living member of my clan. I needed to accept that my blood family was gone, that it was time to find a new one.
I leaned against the wall, the bricks cold through my shirt and jacket. I glanced at the light spilling on the concrete out past the alley’s mouth, the growl of dark, danceable music, the sounds of laughter.
Of life. It’d be silly to think of these people as family so quickly. But fuck it. This was a good start.
“Upward spiral,” I told myself, putting on a smile, rocking on the balls of my feet. “Fake it till we make it.”
I breathed in deep, then regretted it when I caught a whiff of dumpster from somewhere deeper in the alley. Gross. I peered into the darkness, trying to make out how deep it actually went. Eww. What if I’d been standing next to a dumpster this whole time?
Then I smelled it, that familiar scent. A blend of tobacco, leather, and smoke. And then the sweet, faint fragrance of jasmine flowers.
Diablo 69.
My stomach lurched. Was it the anomalist? Were they nearby? It’d be stupid to try and tackle them on my own. I whirled toward the mouth of the alley, stopping dead in my tracks when I saw the silhouette blocking the exit.
“Get away from me,” I said, holding out one hand. “I mean it. My friends will come looking for me. They know I’m out here.”
Had to make sure I sounded tough, nothing to betray my fear. I engaged every muscle in my body, clenching everything tight. My butthole, most of all. Look, I was scared as fuck.
But this shadow was different. No tight mask over the entire head, no crystalline goggles. In fact, this person had an enviable head of long, wavy hair. No way all that would have fit under a mask.
The entire silhouette was different, in fact. No enchanted catsuit. A slim-fitting leather jacket, hip-hugging jeans, an imposing pair of combat boots. Like Max, except in a distinctly feminine body.
“You stay away from him,” said a distinctly feminine voice, one that was steely and stern. Modulated and deepened, perhaps, for the express purpose of intimidating cute, innocent witch boys with clenched buttholes.
“What? Who am I supposed to stay away from?”
Boots crunched over gravel as the woman stepped forward, close enough that I could see the gleam of her dark eyes, her bared teeth.
Also, the gleam of the machete in her right hand.
“Stay. Away. From Max.”
I stared at her, mouth open in confusion and disbelief. Seriously? Was that how things worked in Dos Lunas? I sucked one dick and suddenly the exes came crawling out of the woodwork? Or so I assumed. The similar sense of style, the danger and gruffness? They would have made a perfect match.
“Listen,” I said, holding my hands up to pacify her as I backed into the alley. “Max is just a friend, okay? I don’t know what your relationship is, but there’s nothing to worry about. We’re just friends. I promise, I’m not a threat.”
“I’m only trying to protect him.” She took a step to match each of mine, casually closing the distance. Her machete went up with equal, excruciating slowness. She pointed it straight at my face. “And you’re making that very, very difficult for me right now.”
“Protect him from what?” I stammered. “From me? Look at me. I could barely take the guy in a fair fight. I mean, I’d rough him up pretty nicely in the attempt, don’t get me wrong, but — ”
“Aha!” The machete wavered in the woman’s hand. “Caught you. That’s an admission right there. You do mean him harm.”
“I swear, I don’t! I’m hardly a threat. And are you talking physical harm, or — look, Max is right in the bar! You can ask him yourself.”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t have to know. This is between you and me, Witch Boy.”
Okay, so maybe I was a little more popular than I thought. “All I’m saying is — whoa. Lady, that blade is huge. Pretty sure it’s illegal to accost people with big-ass knives. You come any closer, I’m gonna have to scream for my friends to come help me. Max being one of them. A friend. Someone I am friendly with.”
This time the woman pressed her finger against her mouth, like she was telling me to keep quiet. “Shush,” said the brief rush of air that whispered through her lips. Her lips that were painted a lovely shade of red, by the way. It looked like she had some mascara on, too. Whoever this chick was, she’d gotten all dolled up just to come out and kill me. Very flattering.
