Page 63 of An Amateur Witch's Guide to Murder
Ethan waits till it’s under control. “I was trying to throwhimout a window, not you.”
“That’s not better, Ethan,” Mateo rasps.
Squinting and holding a thumb and index finger one inch apart, he says, “It’s a little better. And a perfect example ofmysurprise.” Ethan stuffs the gloves in his pocket and squats outside the circle so they’re more at eye level. “I think Linnéa’s finally back and I walk in on you three. And whoever the hell that witch who threw me down the stairs is. Who was that?”
“What’s wrong with Ophelia?” Mateo asks instead and Ethan has the gall to look offended.
“Nothing. Just sleeping. Perfectly fine. I’m not going to hurt your little friend.”
“And Topher?”
“Less fine, but don’t worry about that. I can make sure you still get paid,” Ethan says, absolutely missing the point of his concern around Topher, taking on a distracted tone as he examines the circle Mateo’s at the center of. Assured by whatever he sees, Ethan looks at Mateo again. “Consider it from my angle. The hot guy who I thought was a bullshit con artist milking an asshole manager’s rich son out of some money, keeps getting in my way. He shows up at my work and evades the ward my intern managed to get under the conference room table—something with nine wormlings from bones into flesh. She was so proud of her work and so disappointed you spotted it. She’s dead now, so whatever. Then, I’ve got the sweetest signal ward primed on Linnéa’s door for her return, and it goes off, but when I show up to grab her, it’s him again. And yes, I threw him out a window, but he should have died, and he didn’t, and I was even really bummed about that, okay? But then he texts me the next day about my jacket. I thought I was being punked. While I’m trying to figure that one out, he decides to show me—” he gestures at his own face. “Whatever that was. You’ve been running around messing up my whole week. What the hell are you?”
“Why should I explain anything to you?” Mateo snaps. Despite what should be a terrifying general dynamic, he’s deeply agitated by the tone Ethan’s taking. With the daze of the shitty smoke lessened, his temper is clawing to get free, wanting out but unable to grab a footing.
Standing from his squat, Ethan gives his wife—who’s still standing with the brazier raised—an exasperated expression. Now that Mateo’s really looking, it’s becoming clear that something’s super off about Yoga Wife. Like not-blinking off.
Mateo’s agitation tilts back toward fear.
“You’ve got this all wrong,” Ethan says, still looking at his bizarrely motionless wife. “You think this is a good guy versus bad guy situation.”
“I’d gesture at Topher’s battered body beside me, but I’m tied to a fucking chair. It seems pretty bad,” Mateo says.
Ethan looks at Mateo, hand moving to the base of his skull, running up the bald back of his scalp like he’s honestly feeling badly or struggling with something here. Which is insane. “Okay. Fine. Yes. It’s not great. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be.”
“Is this the part where you tell me your evil plan and try to seduce me to the dark side?”
He’s not serious, but Ethan drops his hand and looks him soberly in the eyes. “Yes. It is.”
Mateo’s read on the situation dissolves. Tied to a chair while Ophelia and Topher lay unconscious, all of them held against their will, seems pretty clear-cut, but Ethan’s acting like there’s a very valid reason for it all. That would be great.
Sensing Mateo’s softening, Ethan’s quick to fill the silence. “I had a whole situation going on here. I’ve taken a pledge to Marbas. In exchange for my devotion, he gives me secrets lost to time. I’ve got—” he actually pauses for dramatic effect. “Amazingpowers.” Really draws out the middleainamazing. “Knocking you out that window was nothing. I have to be one of the most powerful witches alive.”
Ethan looks at him like he wants a cookie or a head pat from Mateo for this brag about his own attempted murder. Is he supposed to know a Marbas? Not wanting to show off that he has no idea what Ethan’s talking about but annoyed again, he says, “And you’ve kidnapped Topher because …?”
Some of the expectation pinches off of Ethan’s face but he presses on. “It’s his mother I wanted. I always knew Christopher was doing something uncanny. The man’s an idiot and has this stupid laugh that carries. I could be seven rooms away with the doors locked, on a call with headphones on and still hear his donkey caw.” Completely unrelated detail but Ethan needs to get it out, it seems. “But his picks always pay. Always. And then I saw her and knew. She wasn’t mortal. I thought fae, that Christopher had guessed her name or stole her coat or whatever fairytale bullshit, but she wasn’t some minor spirit. Everyone I sent after her missed. She was completely untouchable.”
Ethan is losing himself to his own drama, forgetting that he’s talking to a captive audience who’s still nauseous.
“I had no idea Topher even existed. Christopher never talked about his family. Too busy talking about himself.” Ethan is incapable of delivering the story without interpersonal office politics slipping in. “When his wife vanished, Topher showed up at the office and got so spectacularly dismissed by Christopher I actually felt bad for him. Having that for a father. Gawd, I’d have cut his brake line. I thought Topher was standard issue because that asshole wasn’t treating him like a money maker. Which made him perfect for snatching to lure the mom out. So, imagine my surprise when everyone I sent after Topher died.”
“Holy shit,” Mateo says and doesn’t expect to get Ethan’s enthusiastic agreement.
“Right? Nearly my whole coven. Do you know how hard it is to train up a practitioner from zero?” Ethan says it like they’re reacting to the same thing here. “Just finding people who won’t be weird about it at work is a nightmare. A lot of time and effort lost. The little shit might be more powerful than his mother. Or at least more destructive. I thought arranging for his arrest would flush Linnéa out, but then you fucked that up, so I just went for it. Had to toss six spells at that car to get it to crash.”
He starts complaining about Quincy’s driving, but Mateo’s stalled out on the part where Topher wasn’t accidentally killing random people. He’d been unconsciously protecting himself.
“But why were you after either of them?” Mateo interrupts.
“Marbas requires a tithing from his devotees. The more powerful the tithing, the more awesome the secrets revealed,” Ethan says like it’s obvious.
And Mateo’s too slow on the uptake. Too magical-smoke-messed-up not to have startled at the words. Becausetithingwhen combined withunconscious on a magical circlecan only meansacrifice.
Ethan notices Mateo’s surprise, and something in his expression changes, any excitement to share his story replaced by naked curiosity as he studies Mateo. “Are you not pledged to someone?”
It feels a lot like Ethan’s asking if he has a significant other really dramatically, but Mateo knows that’s not it. Who the hell is Marbas? It’s vaguely familiar but not in a useful way. If he just says a name with a lot of consonants, will that work? But he’s not quick enough.
That horrible cat piss, fish, and hate incense reek flares and Mateo barely has time to register that Yoga Wife had come closer, has the brazier only an inch away from his face.
