Page 31 of The Bairwick Witches
The way Issac had held him during the ritual sent a range of feelings flooding through Schuyler, nearly overcoming him. A kinetic warmth came from Issac’s touch, and Sky’s body had reacted more strongly than he anticipated, welcoming him more deeply than he’d allowed anyone since his ex. The butterflies had hopped back on their brooms and were once again zooming around his stomach.
Was there a future with him? So many times, he had referred to Issac as a kid in his head, noting a juvenile annoyance, but after a few times, he stopped minding the infractions. People grow. People change. Maybe he’d want a life in Bairwick. Maybe there was something worth pushing for with him.
Over the sound of multiple people welding to rock music, Schuyler warned Issac—something he’d wished he could have done before Papa ported them over. “I want to tell you this is anotherfriendof mine.”
“I guessed that,” Issac replied slyly. “Didn’t realize you were so popular. I see guys all over giving you that little smile as they pass us. I know what that smile means.”
“I’m friendly. Seriously though, this isn’t some buddy—he is a legit ex. And Azrael can be very intense. He enjoys making things uncomfortable. It amuses him. And I love Rae, he’s a great person, a talented artist, but he’s a dark witch, first and foremost, and things will always remain a little messy between us.” Schuyler hesitated. “There is a good chance any terms presented to us for the dirt are going to be unreasonable.
“I want to help you, but I cannot owe Azrael Arceneaux any favors. I’m sorry.” Schuyler worried what Issac’s reaction would be, but there would be no outcome where Schuyler would be indebted to Rae.
Issac reached out and grabbed his arm lovingly with a squeeze. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t ask you to. We’re resourceful. We’ll just see what he wants and go from there.” Issac fell silent when Azrael began walking toward them.
Schuyler recognized the messy, paint splattered dickie overalls and Timberlands, and saunter in his walk, all too damn well. Azrael let down his reddish-brown hair; it was several inches longer than when Sky had last seen him. “Oh, hell” Azrael proclaimed, opening his arms. “Been a time since I seen yous. You like it like that though. No love for me, your one true.”
“Hello Azrael,” Schuyler said, embracing him but dodging the kiss Rae tried to place on his lips, aiming for the cheek instead—which Azrael noticed.
“Cher? What this? ‘Cause of him o’there, yeah? Who are you?” Azrael let go and slid over to Issac, circling him like a shark. “I smell the Gris-gris on yous. Straight from Oddie, huh?”
“Rae, Papa told us you may have-”
“The cemetery dirt—I do, I do, Cher,” he replied, the top of his overalls sliding around as he continued to circle them, showing off his tatted chest and pierced nipples. “You see my new art, love?” Azrael motioned around to the four black gothic spires, in the process of having their accoutrements being welded on: bulbs, skulls, and various Celtic crosses. “I don’t know what it is, yeah? Or what I’m trying to say. Maybe it’s, ‘I hate Capitalism,’ but it’ll be some’ting powerful, yeah.” He swung his head back around to Issac. “Which brings me to why you need some’ting so powerful yourselves.”
“For a spell,” Issac responded flatly, but with enough sass to provoke Azrael a tiny bit more.
Schuyler was proud, impressed, even, watching Issac not only holding his own against an imposing presence like Rae butalso throwing it back. Issac kept his face like stone, shifting only his indifferent eyes in Rae’s direction.
“A spell,” Azrael mimicked, “well hells bells co’rse ‘for a spell. That don’t answer a dam’ thing to me. Why this dirt? This some’ting special, yeah? You even know what it is you askin’ for?”
“My uncle apparently operated with some unique tastes. We listen, and we don’t judge in our family. But no, he did not expand on the dirt at all.”
Azrael never stopped moving around them. He flung his head in Schuyler’s direction. “How them aunties?”
“They’re fine. I’d say they send their regards, but they don’t like you.”
“E’ryone’s a critic.” The overly animated Azrael spun back around to Issac. “Yous wantin’ dirt from the oldest, most haunted cemetery in the world, yeah? And dunno why? That’s hilarious.”
“I’m a humorous guy,” Issac replied. “I don’t know anything about the cemetery, or the dirt, and I don’t see why it’s your business.”
Azrael jumped back playfully, feigning being hurt. “Ooooo weeee, the sass on you, yeah? Yous in my studio—allthis my fuckin’ business. What yous askin’ got a steep price attached. Yes, siree.”
“Rae, this once, for me, can’t you–”
“No, Cher,” he said sweetly but curtly. “Not this one, and not for him. Imma need some’ting valuable for what I got.”
“It’s dirt Rae, not like it’s precious.” Schuyler questioned. “I’ve never even heard of this cemetery, Rae—not until today.You could be peddling shit from the backend of this farm for all we know.”
“The nerve of you. I would neva’. Well, at least not to you. Few have heard of the cemetery, Cher, few have. He knows about the place tho, don’t ya lil’ thing?”
“I already made it clear, I don’t.”
Azrael mimicked his response again. “That so?” He stopped in front of him and gave a fake lunge. Issac didn’t react. But Azrael did, laughing wildly. He spun again; every time his movements were directed at Schuyler, there was no animosity, unlike with Issac. He was relaxed—the most loving version of himself, the one he reserved only for Schuyler. “You miss me at all? Them lonely nights? You come home but you don’t call?”
“Rae,” Schuyler warned as he backed away from the leering Azrael, “I’m asking nicely.”
“And I’m saying nicely, the boy knows some’ting he ain’t tellin’, don’t he?” Rae zipped back around and threw another fake lunge, but Issac still did not flinch. “Whatcha know?”
“That apparently you’re an asshole.”
