Page 72 of Hot Summer's Prey

She chuckles deeply. “If your information is as good as his, I will enjoy crushing you between my teeth. Besides, it will take more than words to remedy what he has broken.”

“The Cliffside Lady is Nina Martinez, right?” I ask. “She died of pneumonia.”

The Witch stays silent, listening.

“Here, this is from her house,” I say, offering the statue to her.

She takes the statue from me with long claw-like hands, holding it delicately. Her whole demeanor changes into one of sadness.

“She was a complicated woman,” I tell her. “Or so I hear. My friend is her grandchild. We just found a speakeasy in the basement of her house. There’s all sorts of strange little clues to what a complex life she led. Zephyr said that Nina was great at hiding in plain sight. She didn’t tell anyone she was Mexican, not even once people started celebrating people of color. She bleached her skin and hair. She was rarely herself when others saw her.”

The waters feel calmer.

“I bet performing was kind of cathartic for her because of that. It’s one thing to have to perform in your personal life, but she turned it into a choice. She made a living of off it. And then she used that to live by the sea. Nobody ever understood why she abandoned nearly everything else to be there.”

The Lantern Witch’s face is hard to read, considering how monstrous it looks, but she is remarkably calm now.

“I don’t know what she was to you,” I say. “But she chose to be here over anywhere else.”

The Witch nods.

“She must have been wild to know. All the stories I hear about her—oh, and also the ones where she’s just a mega bitch.”

The Lantern Witch laughs. Like a real laugh, though dipped in angst.

“Thank you,” she says.

She strokes the statue, holds it close.

“Um, do you want a hug?” I offer, because I’m crazy.

That, and I guess, I’ve always surrounded myself with women who could bite my head off at any moment. What’s another one?

“A hug?” she repeats.

“I put my arms around you, you get to feel connection with another being. It’s supposed to help you feel better.”

Pacari coughs behind me. I shoot him a look. I’m so good at dealing with narcissists. If Janine Lezna could use me as her professional punching bag this last tour and then spit me back out, I can handle a sad sea witch. At least the Lantern Witch isn’t going to ruin my livelihood—maybe just my life.

“Maybe this hug thing does sound nice,” she says.

32

IT'S NOT MY SEX CAVE

PACARI

“Ifeel angry,” I admit. “Every second that passed, I wanted to strangle Kalixto and drag you back to safety.”

“But look! Now it’s safe!” Teresa cheers, dancing in place in the middle of my garden. “Just took a woman’s touch—literally.”

“She could have eaten you alive,” I grumble.

“But she didn’t. And now we’re safe, the big scary monsters stopped fighting each other, and you don’t have to worry about her ever trying to take advantage of you again.”

“That is an added bonus,” I agree.

After calming the witch down, Teresa asked me to leave. I waited in agony from a short distance as the two talked things out, terrified that the Lantern Witch was looking for any excuse to lash out as she does with me. When Teresa called me back over, she explained that the Lantern Witch would no longer demand such high amounts of magic from me, that she would keep the garden operational even if payments came in inconsistently—though I still would need to bring in magic from time to time.

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