Page 11 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Valerian smiles as if I've said something charming. "Of course. Please, join us in the parlor. More intimate for negotiations."
The "parlor" turns out to be a luxurious sitting room with plush velvet furniture and a roaring fireplace that provides the only light. The shadows dance across ancient tapestries depicting unnecessarily violent scenes of war and death. Every streak and droplet of painted blood is the brownish rusty color of the real deal.
Esme pats the space beside her on a crimson chaise lounge. "Sit, little witch. Tell us about your powers."
I choose an armchair instead, maintaining distance. "As a siphon, I can draw energy from various sources and redirect it into spells. I specialize in protective enchantments and illusions."
"Daylight spells?" Dominic asks immediately, revealing their primary interest.
"Yes. I can create amulets that allow limited sun exposure, but sigil tattoos that can be re-enchanted are better for longer-term daywalking."
Valerian leans forward, eyes fixed intently on me. "And what do you require in return for such valuable service?"
"Protection. Accommodation. Access to magical texts and components I need for work." I pause. "And a formal bonding with your coven that would sever my previous ties."
"Previous ties," Valerian repeats softly. "It sounds more like current ties. To whom, exactly?"
No point hiding it now. "The Crescent Hollow Coven. Led by Kyle Evergreen."
I expect some reaction—Kyle's coven is well-known in magical circles—but Valerian merely raises an eyebrow.
"Evergreen. Yes, we've crossed paths." His tone suggests those paths weren't friendly. "A competent witch with delusions of grandeur. Nothing we can't handle."
The vampire arrogance is almost comical. Kyle's coven is powerful, but vampires never admit to fearing anything younger than several centuries.
"He won't let me go easily," I warn them. "I was their Thirteenth."
That gets a genuine reaction. Esme's eyes widen fractionally, and Dominic sits up straighter.
"The Thirteenth position is sacred in traditional covens," Dominic murmurs. "You must have been exceptionally valuable to them."
"I amplified their magic," I confirm. "But the arrangement became... untenable."
"How fascinating." Valerian slides closer, predatory interest sharpening his features. "And now you offer similar services to us? What a generous proposition."
His tone makes my skin crawl, but I push through. "A mutually beneficial arrangement. You gain a powerful magical ally. I gain protection and a new bond to break my old one."
"And what else might we gain from you, Regina Cook?" Esme's fingers trail along the back of the chaise, her blood-red nails unnaturally sharp. "Siphons are known to require energy sources."
Here it comes.
"I can draw from natural sources," I say carefully. "Or from the ambient energy of a bonded group."
"Or from individuals?" Valerian suggests, his eyes fixed on my throat.
"That's one possibility," I admit reluctantly.
"Through what means?" Dominic asks, though his knowing smile suggests he's already guessed.
"Proximity is usually sufficient for minor workings." I'm dancing around the topic, and they know it.
Esme laughs, the sound like breaking crystal. "She means sex magic, darlings. Isn't that right, little witch? The most direct transfer of life energy."
The room feels suddenly warmer, the air thicker. Vampire glamour—their version of it anyway—pressing against my senses. They're trying to seduce me, literally. The magical equivalent of roofying someone's drink. It's probably a test, to see how easily I'll fold. Or what I'll put up with. Fortunately, I've developed a tolerance.
"That's one traditional method," I acknowledge stiffly, pushing back against their influence. "But not the only one."
"But certainly the most pleasurable." Valerian is beside me now, though I didn't see him move. His cold hand rests on my shoulder. "We could offer you experiences beyond mortal imagination, Regina. Centuries of refined technique."
