Page 66 of The Witching Hours

I turned to stare at him. “You’re a tech giant?”

He grinned. “I work for a tech giant who pays a lot. So, same thing.”

What I thought was, “Not really.” What I said was, “Lucky me.” Turning to Aunt Ceija, I asked, “Is there any reason why I can’t just renew the temporary solution every ten years?I know it’s the path of least resistance, but I’d be alive in this dimension and coming for a bottle of freedom isn’t much of an inconvenience. Or expense.” I was thinking that five hundred dollars over ten years is fifty dollars a year which is less than a dollar a week.

“Cogent,” Ceija said. “The problem is that I’m both mortal and old. I may not be here to make another in ten years.” Her face youthened when she smiled. “Odds areI won’t be.”

She seemed comfortable with the idea of checking out. Another reason to admire her.

“And no one else knows the, um, formula?” I asked. “If you could teach us how to open a hole to hell, maybe you could teach us to make a potion?” I glanced at Daphne and back again. “Aren’t you leaving a living legacy? Passing on what you know so it’s not lost?”

“Yes. Daphne is a good student. But this particular charm is tricky since it involves creatures who are not only supernatural, but from another dimension. It’s what you would call an advanced skill. I hope Daphne has reached that level before I die, but I can’t read my own future.”

I perked up at that. “Can you read mine?”

She chuckled. “I might if you were a typical gorger, but there are two reasons not. First, you have a touch of the art. Second, you’re at a crossroads. If I knew for certain what you’ll choose, then maybe.”

Even I didn’t know what I would choose. So, clairvoyance was a dead-end.

On the way home Nick and I stopped at a bayside fish market. We ate shellfish, watched the sunset, relaxed knowing we’d sleep without interruption.

It would’ve been a romantic dinner if not for the question mark hovering over my head like a comic illustration. As youmight guess, most of the conversation centered around the prospect of a permanent eviction, as Aunt Ceija called it.

“How’s your shoulder?”

He rotated the damaged joint then said, “It’s been better, but I’m a fast healer.”

“Is that what’s behind the foolish bravado?”

He feigned looking stricken. “Foolish bravado? And I thought I was entertaining you with male exhibitionism.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I can’t say watching you grapple with a card was entertaining, but it was impressive.”

“Then my work here is done.”

“In all seriousness, it was dumb.”

“Was not.” He protested, but didn’t sound offended. “Well, maybe it was a little dumb, but a man doesn’t give up his phone without a fight.”

I chuckled. “Right.”

“Speaking of dumb.”

“Yeah?”

“Are we dumb enough to go for the permanent eviction?”

I didn’t have a chance to answer before Seven pulled up a chair and joined us. He ate one of my shrimps, then smiled with approval while we both watched slack jawed.

I thought I’d hit the reset button. What happened to my ten-year renewal?

Nick threw his fork down on his plate in frustration and said, “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just so strange that they provoke us, even fight with us, but they don’t speak.”

“Except for the queen. And Ace.”

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