Page 33 of The Incubus's Angel
I fully turn in my seat and take both of her hands in mine. “It would be my honor. When can we meet so we can talk about flavors and sizes and decoration styles that you like? I’d love to have some time to test a few recipes and have you taste and choose something way ahead of the day so I can perfect it all.”
Doc Calla holds my gaze, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Can I swing by The Flowering Teapot on Monday to talk more details? I think I might have had a bit too much punch tonight and my bed is calling my name.”
I laugh. “Sure. Any day is fine. Except Tuesdays when I’m off. But I can still meet you then if you’d like,” I quickly amend.
“No, no. Your Tuesdays are special. I’ll come see you on Monday.”
“Perfect,” I sigh out, wonder tinging my words that this is my real life.
Wait, does Doc Calla know where I go on Tuesdays?
Not long after, the older ladies start filtering out and Marisol, Calixta, Beryl, Tilly, and I slowly start gathering bottles and tidying up. A few of those remaining join in, helping usreturn The Singing Seahorse to her usual state before they also head home, but not before showering us with compliments and sharing their wishes to make nights like these a regular occurrence. At some point Beryl and Calixta had also snuck off with feverish whispers and hungry hands, not stalling for any lengthy farewells to us.
When it’s Tilly’s turn to leave, she glances back at us and waves goodbye over her shoulder, almost slamming into a table jutting into her path. But, like magic, Bodin materializes in the doorway and darts forward—much faster than one would expect from such a large guy—and saves her from hurting herself.
There’s a collective swoony sigh resounding from me and Marisol, which turns into a gasp when Bodin hauls his wife over his shoulder and carries her out—one hand firmly on her ass. Tilly’s giggles float toward us as they make their descent down the hill and I can’t help the slight pang of longing I have for that kind of love.
If Bodin is here, that means Ren’s probably home already too. Would it be okay to stop by and tell him about Doc Calla’s cake, or should I wait until Tuesday to tell him?
No. It’s quite late so I shouldn’t bother him now. Or maybe I could just check if he’s awake.
Why do I feel like I miss him? Like I want to cuddle and sleep in his arms tonight. And wake up with him. And kiss him. I want to bring him pleasure too.
Hold up. Do I like Ren? Like… likelikehim?
Oh, shit. The realization hits me like a lightning bolt to the heart.
I like Ren.
Marisol appears in front of me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Maisie?”
I snap myself out of my mental spiral and paste a smile on my face. “Totally.” I can feel my lips stretching my mouth too wide, but I’m not going to derail from the success of the evening now. Marisol worked so hard and I want her to go home with a full heart. I’ll deal with my feelings at a later point. Maybe after I’ve had some sleep.
She narrows her eyes for a moment then squeezes my shoulder lightly before she lets go. Marisol can obviously see right through me, but she doesn’t call me out on it. And that’s the moment I know we’re truly friends. Maybe someone else would’ve badgered me for more of an answer, but Marisol just lets me be and trusts that I’ll talk when I’m ready.
With a groan of relief, Marisol scoots onto the wooden table and I join her, my own relief apparent when my feet lift off the ground. Together, we stare at the clean and quiet pub.
“Thanks for staying and helping me clean up.” Marisol leans back and braces her arms on the table, her long black hair hanging like a silky waterfall down her back.
I bump her shoulder with mine. “No problem. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you sing tonight?” The question hangs for a couple of seconds and I fear I might have overstepped, but there’s no tension from Marisol, only a sense of resignation.
“Do you know about a siren’s gift, or I guess, our curse?” At the subtle shake of my head, she continues, “Our voices aredesigned to enthrall you. I never sing in public because I don’t think it’s fair or appropriate to subject anyone to it. I love music and play a few instruments, sometimes I play here too, but I keep all my singing within the confines of my home.”
I purse my lips together as I consider that. “If there’s vampire sunscreen then surely there’s something for sirens?”
Marisol’s head whips toward me, her mouth gaping open. “I… I’ve never considered that… I’ll have to ask Tilly or Doc Calla. We’ve never talked about it.”
“Maybe you should? Maybe there is a cure, so to speak, and they think you already know about it and don’t want to use it? Or maybe they think you just don’t like singing?”
Marisol stares off at the stage in the corner, a hint of longing in her eyes. “Yeah. It might be worth having that conversation.” She shifts her gaze back to me, all the emotions from a moment ago carefully concealed. “Will you be okay getting home?”
Swinging my legs back and forth, I give her a double thumbs-up. “Of course. I switched to water a while ago, and that tonic Tilly gave us is very effective. Besides, it’s Starry Hill—the safest place I’ve ever been. Will you be okay?”
Marisol’s smile is easy. “Totally. I can jump in the water not far from here and it’s a quick swim to my cottage.”
