Page 80 of Hex
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hack
After the witch trials of Islandmagee in Northern Ireland in the early eighteenth century, where I witnessed the horrific death of my chosen burning at the stake, my mind went dark. With hindsight, I realize that my razing an entire peninsula and any neighboring towns responsible for the massacre of eight innocent women, and later the husband and father of two of those women, probably cemented their narrow mindsets.
That year, when I found my soul mate, it was too late for her. She was barely conscious when our eyes locked, and the only reason I know she saw me was the slight sparkle in her blue eye and the relief across the tiny smile she managed to gift me. Ignoring the fiery flames licking up her body and the distinct stench of charring flesh, I latched on to those few seconds we shared and created a lifetime of memories.
I thought about that smile for centuries. It destroyed me while simultaneously giving me hope for the next time.
Because there would be a next time, and with each death, that singular fact was my only saving grace.
Today, things are different. There are no more do overs. There are no more chances or Halloweens to look forward to in a distant future.
This is it. This is our lifetime together and I’ll be damned if I allow anything less than a happy fucking ending when it comes to our story.
Sage and I have been locked away for the last twenty-four hours, enjoying these moments of intimacy as she explores my body and I hers. There isn’t an inch of her I haven’t licked or kissed and every time my lips touch her skin, my hunger comes back tenfold. It’s no secret she’s my addiction, my lifeline and death wish all wrapped together in a kyn never before created.
This uniqueness, I hope, will be her salvation. But that’s all it is…hope. One thing we can always count on with the Thirteen is their predictability. Beyond their personal ideologies or ambitions, the rules are upheld with the utmost respect for the balance created by the Moirai.
Our biggest challenge here will be to appeal to their empathy, their inner sense of justice and love for another kyn. Some will understand, others won’t care. This is why my brothers and I must plan, and we’ve decided to call in all the favors we’ve accumulated throughout the millennia.
Starting with the most recent, Loki, the mischievous fire god.
“Are you sure he’s even going to care?” Sage’s question isn’t much different from the one I’ve been asking myself for hours. Even if he does care, the Thirteen have nothing but misplaced disdain for him. According to Slash, though, Loki is just misunderstood.
I don’t know about that, but then my brother is partial to Norse culture.
The crunch of dead leaves beneath our feet feels almost ominous as we take our time walking to the portal just behind my home.
It reminds me of the first time I met Frederic Chopin after my dark years. Soon after, he met the love of his life, George Sand—I was allowed to call her Aurore, her given name—and their love story was as epic as any anthros could ever be. The solemn notes he brought to life with every dance of his fingers across the piano keys touched a deep part of my soul. We would often take walks together in the autumn afternoons—it was the only time his health would allow it—and he’d confess his fears of death, of losing the love of his life, of the nothingness that was beyond, or worse…a future in Heaven alone. I hated that I couldn’t reassure him. Tell him that there would be no suffering, that the Great Library would hold him until another genius would be needed further down the line.
The hypocrisy of it all is killing me a little bit inside because even knowing everything about the universe, my fear of losing Sage is all consuming.
“No, but we’re exploring any and all avenues before someone comes for you.” We reach the portal where my brothers are waiting alongside Desdemon and Danika. The best friends are instantly hugging each other, whispering words of love and support before we all go in different directions.
“This is where he was last spotted.” Desdemon hands me a Post-It he no doubt found at Slay’s home where he and Danika slept. “Nothing guarantees he’s still there. Loki gets bored faster than a squirrel at a yoga retreat.”
I thank him, my gaze scanning the address and realizing we’re about to take a trip to Australia. “The Gold Coast?” At least the weather will be nice.
“I’d give my left nut to see Loki riding a wave in a mankini.” Even Slay chuckles at Slash’s unsolicited visual, just like the rest of us. We can always count on War to bring levity to moments like these.
“I hope Fenny’s there!” Sage grins, the mere idea of seeing her puppy—her words, not mine—brings her joy and I refuse to deny her that. I won’t lie to myself, I wouldn’t be too upset if we got to see him again, either.
“Witchydogmamma…” Slash pauses, frowns, then shakes his head. “Too much of a mouthful.”
“That’s what she said.” Everyone looks at Danika, who’s grinning at her own joke, but the only one to laugh outright is Sage as they high five each other.
“True words. A lot ofsheshave said that. And a couple ofhesfrom time to time.” Slash winks at Danika like it’s no big deal. And it isn’t. I doubt there’s a single kink he hasn’t explored, especially after his month-long stay at the Marquis de Sade’s home, south west of Paris.
“Ne l’encourage pas, ma petite sœur.” As Desdemon begs his little sister not to encourage Slash and his nihilistic ways, I clasp my hand around Sage’s and pull her back to me. My mind keeps revisiting the past as though something prophetic is about to happen and the only thing that can ground me is her touch. I need to remember that she’s still here, and for now, that has to be enough.
As Desdemon steps up to the portal, Danika slips her hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a small stone—a ladybug painted on top—that she places in Sage’s open palm.
“Bless it and give it the power of good will.” She kisses Sage on the cheek and before she backs away to join her brother on their way to Velmore, she winks with a small smile gracing her lips. Even I can see it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I barely know her, so I can imagine the sense of loss Sage is feeling as she’s separated from her best friend yet again.
Leaning in as my arm bands around Sage’s waist, I pull her flush against me and bring my mouth to the crown of her head,kissing it. I allow myself a few seconds to linger, waiting for them to disappear before we’re back to business.
“I received a message from Bluebell earlier. It seems a couple of kyn have visited the witch shop in Staten Island—” Sage interrupts Slay’s recount with a gasp.
