Page 2 of Hell and Hexes
Chapter 2
Sylvie
“And how does that make you feel, Alberta?”
The troll shifted; her gaze fixed on something outside the window. “Well…”
“Make sure you look at Shelby when you say it,” I instructed her.
The troll looked over at the werewolf next to her and her expression softened. “It makes me afraid that you’re gonna leave me. Like maybe you think you made a mistake giving up your pack to come stay with me and that you wanna go back.”
There. I sat back in my chair as I saw Shelby quickly wipe away a tear. In reality, I was holding back my own tears. This was such a win. Alberta had trust and abandonment issues. I mean, most of us had abandonment issues, me included, but Alberta had a hard time articulating them to the werewolf she loved. And Shelby, like most werewolves, kept every emotion except for anger close to the vest. She’d been sneaking out at night after Alberta was asleep, running on four legs as close to the mountain as she dared and listening to her former pack howl and yip as they hunted or partied. It had taken a lot for her to admit it to Alberta. And it had taken a lot for Alberta to admit that the little passive-aggressive things she’d been doing the last two weeks came from a place of fear and self-doubt.
“I made a choice, Alberta. Twice I made a choice and both times I chose you. It’s just…” The werewolf ran a hand through her short hair. “It hurts every time I go up there to listen. It hurts and I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself. It’s torture to hear them and remember that I’ll never have that again. It’s like slicing open a raw wound and digging the knife in deeper.”
“Then why?” Alberta’s eyes searched hers. “Why can’t you just stay in bed with me? Aren’t I enough?”
Shelby hesitated, biting her lip.
“A love that doesn’t allow room for other things isn’t healthy, Alberta,” I gently told the troll. “Hobbies, friends, a career—activities that don’t include the love of your life actuallyenhanceyour relationship. They give it strength. They breathe fresh air into a union that might otherwise suffocate.”
They both looked at each other for a long moment and I waited, feeling that something big was about to happen.
“I don’t feel like I can mourn the loss of my pack with you,” Shelby finally blurted out. “You’ll internalize it and think it’s your fault I can’t hunt with them or see them anymore. You’ll blame yourself, and I don’t want you to do that ‘cause it’s not true.Imade the choice. Me. That’s how important you are to me, Alberta. I gave up everything for you ‘cause I love you and I knew that the life I was going to have with you would be a thousand times better than my life with the pack. But there are times when I’m sad, times when I need to mourn what I left behind.”
Alberta’s lips quivered. “I’m so glad you chose me. I love you and I’m so glad.”
Shelby reached out and took the troll’s hands. “I love you too. And until they accept you as my fated mate, I’m never going back. Do you hear me, Alberta? I’m not going to leave you for them. Not now. Not ever. I love you.”
“Next time, wake me up and take me with you,” Alberta said softly. “Or if you need to be alone, then wake me up when you return home so I can mourn with you.”
Shelby was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I will. And I promise I’ll talk to you when I’m feeling homesick and not bottle it up. Just know it’s not your fault. I’m not complaining, and I’m not blaming you. I just miss it all sometimes.”
They hugged and I watched on in silence, thrilled at the breakthrough.
“You’ve both made great progress today,” I told the pair as I looked up at the clock and pulled out my appointment book. “Same time next week?”
“I think…” Alberta reached out and took Shelby’s hand. “I think maybe we could wait and schedule something for the following week?”
Shelby nodded enthusiastically, and I marked the appointment down in my book, murmuring the words that would render my notes indecipherable to anyone except me only to have nothing happen.
Crap. For two weeks, this sort of thing had been occurring—or rathernotoccurring. It hadn’t been a big deal when I was recuperating on Cassie’s couch, but now that I was resuming my life, my lack of magic caught me by surprise and sent a bolt of panic through me.
I took a calming breath and tried to think rationally. Maybe my magic would return as I healed, but in the meantime, I’d need to learn some sort of code or shorthand or get another safe to lock my appointment books and files up. What a royal pain in the butt.
I pushed down the frustration and fear and presented a composed demeanor as I finished my notes and wrapped up the appointment with my clients. Making sure both Alberta and Shelby still had the charms I’d created months ago for my clients—charms that allowed them to come and go from my office without notice—I saw them to my door. Privacy was so important in a town full of supernatural creatures. No one wanted the gossip mill talking about how they were seen going to the sex therapist.
In reality, discussions involving sex were a minor part of my practice, but it was the most salacious part of my job and thus what everyone thought I spent every therapy session on. I kinda was to blame for some of that. It was so much fun to see how flustered people got when I calmly and clinically discussed kinky practices. Despite that, I was glad my practice wasn’t sex therapy all day every day. That would get boring fast.
Most of my clients were like Alberta and Shelby—people just trying to work through relationship issues and needing a little guidance. Other clients were more on the life-coach side of my practice where I assisted with things like a vampire’s mid-life crisis, a gnome who wanted to confront his fear of flying, a sylph who was contemplating a career change, or a pixie who wanted to learn better confrontation techniques. In Accident, I was the go-to for people who had problems in their lives.
Which was really funny since my own life was a complete and utter disaster. Two weeks ago, I’d died. And although I’d come back to life, things hadn’t been truly right since that night when I got electrocuted trying to microwave a bottle of hot fudge.
I’d died, and my twin sister Ophelia had made some sort of deal with a reaper where I’d been brought back to life. She was now dating that reaper. In fact, he was living in her house in a crazy whirlwind romance that seemed to be how my sisters rolled lately. I was okay with it since Nash seemed like a pretty cool guy, and he clearly loved Ophelia. And I did owe the guy big time for stuffing me back in my body when I should have been heading toward the light.
Shelby and Alberta were my last clients of the day, so I locked up the office, scrawling a hex on the front door just in case some goblin got ideas. I went to charge it, only to feel…nothing.
Crap. Checking the locks, I hoped that any nosy goblins would see the hex symbol and decide not to try to call my bluff. Then once again, I shoved the frustration and fear deep down inside and headed down the stairs to slowly make the four--block walk to my house.
