Page 36 of An Amateur Witch's Guide to Murder
Wait. Ophelia’s visit was only twenty minutes ago. Had they had the same confusion, or was it somehow only Mateo giving down-to-fornicate energy?
What in the actual hell is today?
He puts a finger to his lips, mimicking the pressure of Topher’s lips and then flushes again because it’s a weird thing to do.
Okay. So. He’d misread that. Like, a lot.
Which is … something.
Something he’s not going to deal with right now because it doesn’t change anything. Not really. Maybe. Probably. Ophelia doesn’t want to leave. And Topher—despite whatever the fuck just happened there—still needs help. If they’re in this, he’ll be in it all the way.
Even if it means accelerating his own condition.
Starting toward the balcony, he has every intention of curling back up with Ophelia to wait for the sun, but jolts to a stop as he reaches for the handle. Turning slowly toward his room, the soft pull of his mom’s spell book tucked in his bag startles something hungry in his blood.
And then he’s in his room, cross-legged on the bed, no memory of walking across the suite or closing and locking his door.The spell book is comfortably open in his lap, to a page filled with his mother’s small, neat script. With dry-mouthed alarm, his eyes slide over the words, trying to make sense of them. He can only read every third or fourth word, his spoken Spanish shit but his reading is even worse.
But eventually he understands.
It’s a summoning spell.
So very carefully he closes the spell book, puts it back in his bag, and stuffs it into the closet safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sitting over a room service breakfast he agreed to out of a lack of willingness to temper Ophelia in any way, Mateo stares at a satellite view of Topher’s mom’s house, projecting the air of a professional who’s definitely not going to be weird about their misunderstanding last night. He’d had a lot of hours to—notthink about it, that implies he’sthought about it—but to conclude that pretending it hadn’t happened is the only solution. Which is easy. They have a clear job to do today. No time for deep psychological overanalysis of anything.
It’s still early, but the additional hour or so to mentally acclimate that Mateo was hoping for is shattered when Topher steps out of his room. He’s in his outfit from the day before, mussy-headed, barefoot, and startled to see them at the six-chair dining area of this insane hotel room.
Topher’s eyes round. “Good morning,” he says, simultaneously looking cheerful and grimacing, the little smile on his lips in physical pain.
Ophelia, who’s scooping a wretched seed and porridge goop into her mouth with the sluggishness of someone sleepwalkingbut really dedicated to getting every free meal, grunts in greeting. Which means Mateo’s the one who has to act like a normal functioning person here.
“Morning,” he says back, again doing a stupid little wave, which is his thing now, he guesses.
“I just have to …” Topher says mysteriously, edging toward the suite door but unwilling to take his eyes off of Mateo. He reaches with one hand behind him, catches the door handle, and opens it. For a split second Mateo thinks he’s going to run away, but on the other side of the door, waiting patiently, is Quincy. At this point, Topher’s forced to turn away.
A whispered exchange between the two and then Quincy hands a bag over and comes in, eying their breakfasts and finding the QR code for the menu.
Yes. Amazing maneuver, Topher. Now they can’t possibly bring up last night.
Topher disappears into his room, and Quincy joins them at the table with a quiet hello that’s reciprocated through dull nods.
Relieved he’s managed to avoid any sort of interpersonal conversation, Mateo returns his attention to his phone, on which he’s uselessly looking at a roof, like that’s helping anything. He pans around the streets just for thoroughness and is about to attempt to eat some of his scrambled eggs when his phone vibrates with a text.
It’s from Topher, and reads:Could you come talk to me in my room?
Mateo’s not done reading it before a second pops up:You absolutely don’t have to.
And a third:If you don’t feel comfortable that’s totally alright.
Closing his eyes briefly, Mateo wishes for a strength of character and spirit he doesn’t have and wordlessly leaves the table.Ophelia doesn’t move, but he’s pretty sure he can feel Quincy’s eyes on him as he walks across the suite. He doesn’t bother knocking. If this has to happen, he’s going to brute-force his way through it as fast as possible.
Topher’s sitting at the desk, phone still in hand, and startles to his feet at Mateo’s sudden arrival. He’s changed clothing—what Quincy was probably here for—and is now wearing a pair of extra-wrinkled skinny jeans, cuffed at the bottom, and a long-line t-shirt with a curved hem and raw seams. It’s all grays again, with an excellent fit. Mateo appreciates his aesthetic loyalty, wants to say as much, but that’s not what he’s here for.
Holding both hands up, palms toward Topher to stop him, Mateo tries to make this painless. “Look, this isn’t necessary. It was late. Everyone was tired. We’d had a day. Accidents happen. We’d been drinking.” There. Every excuse possible. Easy and done.
He expects Topher to do a google-eyed nod and free them both, but Topher frowns, gripping his phone to his stomach. “That was really inappropriate of me. I think you’re cool, and I just …” A pause, looking fantastically grim. Mateo almost cuts him off, the level of suffering on Topher’s face too much for what was just a deeply embarrassing mistake. But Topher presses on. “I jumped to something insane because … I don’t know.” A mirthless little smile slides over his lips. “Wishful thinking, I guess. But there’s no excuse. I put you in a weird spot where I owe you money for things and you might not feel like you can tell me to back off. I want to make it clear that I won’t do anything like that ever again.” Topher fiddles with his phone a minute, then turns it around to display a confirmation email to Mateo. In case Mateo doubts his sincerity, he guesses. “I’ve already booked my own suite, so I’ll get out of your hair today.Or, if you’d prefer, I can pay you the amount we agreed upon right now and call this done.”
