Page 23 of Hell and Hexes
“Ophelia? Have you ever said, ‘screw it’ and had sex with someone who was so very wrong, but who you knew would be an absolute amazingly fun lay?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean like doing it with a reaper less than twenty-four hours after your twin sister nearly died? A reaper you pretty much just met? One who killed your basil plant and spent the night on your couch watching infomercials and porn?”
I laughed. “Point taken, but at least you knew Nash loved you. He saved me. As long as you were willing, he was going to be right there by your side forever. He wasn’t some crazy silly make-you-laugh playboy who might be gone the next morning without even a thank you.”
Ophelia sucked in a breath. “Oh, God. Please tell me you’re not thinking of sleeping with Marcus?”
“No!” I actually recoiled at the suggestion. Cassie’s ex was a panther shifter, totally hot and totally unfaithful. Yes, he’d hit on all of us, and yes, we’d all turned him down even after they’d broken up.
Ophelia peered at me, and I could tell by the odd haze over her eyes that she was using her magic. “Seriously? Not that idiot demon that Cassie and Lucien complain about all the time.”
“He’s not an idiot,” I protested. “Have you seen him? He’s totally hot, and he makes me laugh. Don’t I deserve a little fun?”
Ophelia held up her hands. “Of course you do. It’s just that Cassie says Lucien hates him, and she doesn’t seem to think very highly of him, either. You’ve had a really rough couple of weeks, Sylvie. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret later.”
I rolled my eyes. “First, Lucien hates Hadur as well, and everyone told him to just deal when Bronwyn brought him home. As I remember, he wasn’t too fond of Nash, either. His opinion shouldn’t weigh too heavily in my choices of a romantic partner, in my opinion. Secondly, weren’t you just doing a reading for me, telling me to take the path my heart wanted, and that although it might be a difficult path, it was the right one?”
My sister stared at me for a moment, then laughed. “Okay. You’re right. Screw the hot playboy demon and have an absolute blast doing it. Please know that I’m here with ice cream, wine, and boxes of tissues if it all falls apart.”
I knew she would be—all my sisters would be, but especially my twin Ophelia.
“Is that a vision? The falling apart thing? Or just you worrying over me in a similar but different way than Cassie worries over all of us?”
My twin grinned. “The latter. I’ve got no idea where this thing is going. My love-dar doesn’t seem to be working right now, so I can’t give you my magical intuition about it all. But I’ve seen how things go with these fun-frivolous guys, and I know you, Sylvie. I know you love guys who are little boys at heart, who make you laugh. I also know that those guys have never stuck around the way you’ve wanted them to. I worry this is going to end up the same.”
She was probably right, but at this time in my life, I needed to laugh, to forget about my death and the shit-show that was the werewolf issue in our town. And I needed some crazy, fun sex to lift my spirits. Eshu offered both, and I was really wanting to take him up on that offer. I was going to do it. The next time I saw him, whether it was in two days, two weeks, or two months, I was going to get that demon into my bed.
I thought of the reading, then I thought of what I did in my therapy practice. Maybe Ophelia and I weren’t so different after all. Twins.
I thanked Ophelia, gave her a hug, and walked through town to my house. Back home I took a nap, then, feeling a bit more energized, I sat down to work on luck charms to give a little help to the mediation on Monday.
There’d been a few months when I’d been all about four leaf clovers cast in resin, or dyed rabbits’ feet keychains that I used to buy online in bulk. I’d gone through a phase where I learned metal casting and made coins to use as my charms.
Lately I’d been into buttons. I haunted online yard sales and flea markets where people were trying to unload cigar boxes full of buttons that they’d found after their grandmother or aunt had died. There was something magical about running my fingers through all the different sizes and colors and selecting the ones I wanted. The luck charms I was going to work on were to be for the mediation between Dallas and Clinton, so I searched my boxes of buttons for ones that inspired understanding, affection, and a sense of calm. I intended on putting these charms at the four corners of the room, suffusing the whole area with my magic rather than targeting the individuals.
Plastic buttons with four holes called to me. I selected six for each charm in shades of blue and green, adding a yellow button at the end to inspire creative solutions. Then I strung them onto fine wool yarn, chanting as I worked. When they were completed, I surveyed my handiwork, pleased at the result. They were perfect in every way except for one—they lacked power.
As they were, someone would practically have to hang them from their forehead to get even a minimal bit of the desired result. They needed to be energized with my magic, but that was something I’d lacked since my death. I was exhausted just from putting the charms together, and I knew I was magically tapped out. Was this the way it would always be? I had the skill, the talent, but not the strength to really work my magic? I looked over at a handful of charms I’d been working on last month. They were faded, almost spent. But even month--old charms had more power to them then these ones I’d just made.
What would I do if this was my new normal? My clients relied on my charms to come and go discreetly. What if I could no longer provide that? I was sure some of my clients would stop coming to therapy rather than risk being seen.
And what would I be without my magic? I was still a witch, but I’d be useless. My powers would be so faint that they’d not be of value at all.
It scared me. Setting the charms aside, I packed up my supplies and decided to put the issue in the back of my mind and enjoy myself tonight. It had been weeks since my friends and I had our last game, and I missed it. I wanted to just have fun, eat pizza, hang out with everyone, and worry about my magic later. I’d try to power the charms again tomorrow morning, and if I still couldn’t manage, then I’d need to talk to my sisters.
I’d need to talk to Cassie. I knew if I did the technical side of the charms, she could power them for me, but I’d been reluctant to admit I was having this problem. She was hovering over me as it was, fussing about whether I was healed enough to be off her couch, out of her house, and back to work yet or not. Admitting this would make her want to haul me back to her house to take care of me. And admitting my fears of this being permanent would be worse. I didn’t want my sisters to think me broken. I didn’t want them feeling as if they had to spend their lives taking care of me. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me, talking about their abilities in hushed tones, not wanting me to feel bad over not being able to work magic any more.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I took a deep breath and decided to take another quick nap. I headed back to my bedroom and set the alarm on my phone, knowing I’d need to keep my second nap to under a few hours so I had time to get up and ready everything for tonight’s game.
And with my mind on my lack of magic and Monday’s mediation with the werewolves, I fell into a fitful sleep.
