Page 67 of Tricky Magic
Ellea’s heart dropped, and Devon picked up on it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at his face. “I really need to learn when to shut up.”
“No,” she said, hitting his leg lightly. “It’s not that. I just…well, last night was…was last night.” She smiled, and Devon smirked at her. “It’s new, and no, I don’t want children. I actually gave that up for immortality. It’s a plus to not age, and I don’t want to create monster babies. It’s a fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I was far too young when my mother was already talking about the line I would create.”
Devon’s eyes widened, and Ellea’s anxiety began to rise. Had she said the wrong thing?
“I’m sorry.” She fiddled with the blanket again. “I guess I don’t know when to shut up either.”
“No,” he said, sliding closer to her. “It’s not that. I’m sorry about your mother. I just never knew a witch to do that.”
Immortality in witches wasn’t uncommon. In order to choose that path, you have to give something up—a part of your magic, a bit of your soul—or make a life-altering decision. Most would give up their lesser traits or something they loved, like their blue eyes. But the more you gave, the stronger your immortality would be. It was an easy decision to make when she turned twenty-five.
“I didn’t want to give up my magic,” she said, looking at him. “It was an easy decision, and the lack of wrinkles is a major plus. I shouldn’t show signs of aging for at least five hundred years.”
“That’s badass,” he said in awe. “I haven’t made that plunge yet, but I still have time.”
Ellea smiled at him, and when he gave her a true smile back, she fully relaxed.
“I also wanted to offer my services,” he said. “I wanted to see, if you want it, help with learning more about your powers?”
Ellea thought about it. Belias came to mind, and she scowled inwardly, wondering where the dark ass-hat was. But Devon was different. She could feel it, and a whisper in the back of her mind pushed her.
“Yes,” she said with a warm smile. “I would love your help.” She glanced over to Billy, who gave her a nod in approval. “I would also like to introduce you to Princess Astrid’s familiar.”
Devon’s eyes bounced between Billy and Ellea, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“You mean,” he said, fanning himself, “that the story is true? I am in the same room as someone who knew her? I’m going to die.”
Ellea worried this was too much and too soon for Billy.
It’s okay, Bug. I want her story to live on, and I want you to have all the support you can get.
39
Ros
Ros pulled into Sweet Betty’s coffee shop. He had only been here a few times since his preference for coffee was black, boring, and something easily made at home, but he had a distinct feeling that Ellea took her coffee some fancy way. He wanted to make sure he greeted her with something other than an awkward “Hey, we fucked the other night, and I don’t know what to do with my hands” this morning.
A chime rang overhead as he ducked through the doorway. Ros had barely stepped in before he was forced to stop. He scowled at the ten people before him, knowing he had no other choice but to wait. There were two girls working the counter and one working some mechanical hunk of metal that was shooting steam while grinding beans. The coffee shop was built into the first floor of an older house. The hardwood floors creaked under his boots as he shuffled his feet impatiently.
How were there so many people needing coffee?
Most of the chairs were taken up by people he knew. Some quickly grabbed their drinks and left to begin their days. He wondered if Ellea was up yet. Ros had grown worried after he hadn’t heard from her all day and night, or when he woke this morning. She had been a little weird about waking in his bed the day before, and it made him wonder if he had done something else wrong. He groaned inwardly at himself as all the mistakes flashed in his head. Sam had saved him from his earlier spiral with a call to let him know Devon and Ellea fell asleep on the couch after watching some movie or show Ros couldn’t name. The relief only lasted a minute before realization kicked in.
Where did they go from here?
The curse that haunted his family meant this wouldn’t be forever, but they had time. He wanted to help her, teach her about power and what it meant, and enjoy her for as long as he could. But he would have to learn to let her go.
A tapping sound pulled Ros from his thoughts. He looked skyward, begging the gods for patience as the line before him barely moved. The sound became louder. He turned toward it and found a woman tapping her long black nails against the table she sat at. She was smiling directly at him, but it wasn’t a friendly smile—it was wicked. Her amber eyes seemed to glow as they bored into his soul.
Why was she looking at him as if she knew him?
He had never seen her before, and her face was one he would remember. She cocked her head at him as they continued to stare at each other, her short, blunt hair swaying with the movement. It was a harsh black that swallowed up the light, and her rich tan skin reminded him of his time in the deserts averylong time ago. He searched her face, trying to remember if knew her. She roughly kicked the chair out in front of her and nodded her head toward it.Sit,she demanded. Ros glared at her, and she rolled her eyes in response.
“I already ordered your coffee, handsome,” she said and nodded toward the chair again. Her voice held a teasing tone he couldn’t place, but he had heard it before. Tearing himself from the line, he headed toward her table.
“Do I know you?” Ros stood before her, refusing to sit. She leaned back in her chair, and a soft chuckle escaped her dark lips.
