Page 67 of Hex and the City
Her mouth curved into a smile. “More than a simple witch boy, perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” I answered, mulling over her implications, deciding to answer with honesty. “I’ll always honor my traditions, though. I can’t change the fact that I’m abruho, and neither would I want to.”
The soles of Tiamat’s feet padded wetly on the pavement, leaving dark prints in the cement. “But has this not been a part of tradition for witchery the world over, little lion? Bargaining with forces beyond your mortal plane, currying their favor, collecting their power, if only to use but for a moment. In a way, you are simply ripening into the fullness of your potential. Blossoming in your capacity as the last witch in your line.”
I’d never thought of it like that, but Tiamat was right. Reading up on traditions around the globe I knew that witches did historically commune with supernatural entities, whether to pledge service or to forge what they thought of as alliances. The devotions varied, whether to spirits or elementals, whether demonic or divine.
“You make a good point,” I said, tipping my cup at the goddess. “This really is no different, is it?”
Tiamat smiled, her teeth sharp, glinting in the streetlight. “How wonderful that you leave yourself open to so many new possibilities and experiences. I did quite enjoy our time together, you know? Though our little adventures have attracted the attention of my kin. Oh, I say attention, but I should really call it what it is. Envy.”
Goosebumps prickled all along my arms. Other dragons. And they all wanted a ride on the Alcantara Express, too?
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Tiamat?”
The goddess nodded. “We’ll be in touch, little lion. Many are those among my brethren who long to Emanate in this world. Keep your eyes and ears open. Keep your wits about you. Until we meet again.”
Before my very eyes, the dragon goddess collapsed into a silhouette made entirely of water. It crashed across the sidewalk like a wave, dripping into the grates, seeping into the concrete, but not without splashing me first. I wiped at my cheeks with the back of my sleeve, licked my lips on instinct. I tasted the sea.
A hand grasped me by the shoulder. I jumped, restraining a frightened yelp.
“Fuck, Max. Don’t scare me like that.”
“What are you doing out here?” He bumped his shoulder against mine, backing up just enough to give me an accusing look. “You’re not planning on running off again, are you? Remember what happened the last time.”
Hah. Very funny. At least this time I knew that Guillotina was indoors getting sloshed instead of hiding out by the dumpsters waiting to chop my head off.
“Running off? Please. No way. Roscoe said Johnny promised to bring out some snacks. Do you seriously think I would skip out on free hot appetizers?”
Max shook his head, grumbling. “Don’t keep your hopes up. Pretty sure Johnny didn’t mention anything about hors d’oeuvres.”
I squinted. “Man, you really are rich. Mozzarella sticks and onion rings aren’t exactly hors d’oeuvres, are they?”
“Again, I would lower my expectations. Expect a handful of peanuts. Served in an ashtray, if you’re lucky.”
I pointed into the bar. “If that man doesn’t come back to our table with a steaming platter of incredible edibles, I’m skipping town. Tonight.”
The sudden glower on Max’s face was terrifying. I started, taking a step back.
“Okay, wow. I was kidding.”
He chewed on his lip, eyebrows sloped as he scrutinized me. “I’m not a fan of these little scenarios where the end result involves you leaving Dos Lunas.”
Max’s mouth pressed into a tight, uncomfortable line. He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking two decisive steps forward, blocking the way between me and the street with his body. It was so patently obvious what he meant, what he wanted. I didn’t know whether to laugh, or blush, or cry.
“Just a reflex,” I said, peering into the hole on my coffee’s plastic lid, averting my eyes. “I’m so used to switching around. Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep running.”
One hand slipped out of one pocket, Max’s fingers rough, his touch so strong and yet so gentle against my skin. He lifted my face by the chin, staring intently into my eyes. It was all I could do not to melt into the cracks on the sidewalk.
“But what if you stopped running?” he asked, softly, quietly. “What if you stayed?”
I studied the steadiness of his gaze, his eyes dark, serious, piercing. “Is that what you want, Max?” I asked, just as soft, just as quiet.
“Only if that’s what you want,” he said huffily, his face scrunching up again.
I took a sip of my coffee and shrugged. “I suppose it’s not so bad in Dos Lunas. Your friends have been very cool to me, and if Vera’s still clear with the Masques, I really don’t mind sticking with her as my spider from now on.”
The traces of a smile began to form on Max’s face, his cheeks dimpling. “Really, now. Is that right?”
