Page 46 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
REGINA: Can’t be fixed. Glamours only, remember?
CADENCE: Ugh. Yeah. Speaking of that dick, has he shown his face yet?
REGINA: Yes. And it didn’t go well for him. I’ll explain when I call you.
CADENCE: WHAT!! You can’t leave me hanging like that! What happened??
REGINA: Later. I promise.
CADENCE: Fine. Call me later. Love ya.
Some things never change.
I love my sister, but she’s pushy as ever. This shit is exactly why I didn’t go straight to her. That, and I’m not putting her in danger unnecessarily.
She’d be pissed if she knew where I slept last night, too, and she wouldn’t believe me if I told her I don’t get a bad vibe from Villeneuve. Amenacingvibe, sure, but a bad one? Nah.
Can’t say the same about Kyle.
The house is quiet as I make my way downstairs, each room more elegant than the last. In daylight, the place feels less intimidating but no less extraordinary. Books line almost every wall, interspersed with artifacts that look older than civilization.Everything screams wealth and knowledge accumulated over centuries.
Whatever Villeneuve is, he's ancient.
And obscenely rich.
I find Margot in a hallway, arranging fresh flowers in a vase. She turns at my approach, face impassive.
"Good morning, Miss Cook." Her voice has that same eerie flatness I noticed yesterday. "I trust you slept well?"
"Very well, thank you." I shift awkwardly, still not sure what to make of her. She looks human but feels utterly... not. "I was hoping to find something to eat?"
"Breakfast is prepared. This way."
She leads me through a series of connecting rooms to a sun-drenched dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an elaborate garden. The table—easily large enough for twelve—holds a feast that would put most five-star hotel buffets to shame. Fresh pastries, fruit, eggs, charcuterie boards, and more, all artfully arranged as if expecting a small army rather than one hungry witch.
"Will Professor Villeneuve be joining me?" I ask, studying Margot's face for any reaction.
"The professor does not take breakfast." Her tone doesn't change. "Please, help yourself. There is coffee and tea on the sideboard."
She withdraws silently, leaving me alone with enough food to feed my entire former coven.
Another point for the vampire theory.
I fill a plate with food I barely register and take a seat facing the windows. The garden is beautiful. Not the manicured perfection I expected, but a carefully controlled wildness. Native plants mingle with exotic specimens in a way that shouldn't work but somehow does. Beyond it, the forest begins, thick and dark even in morning light.
As I take my first bite of a strawberry that tastes like it was picked at the exact perfect moment of ripeness, I spot movement at the forest's edge. Not eyes this time, but a shadow—larger than any natural wolf should be. It remains just visible enough to let me know I'm being watched.
The fucking wolves again. Do they plan to camp outside Villeneuve's property indefinitely?
I continue eating, though my appetite diminishes with each passing minute under that distant scrutiny. Part of me—the rational, self-preserving part—screams danger. But another part, something deeper and more instinctive, responds to their presence with an emotion I can't quite name. Not fear, exactly, although I have that in spades. Something way more complicated.
The dining room door opens just as I'm finishing the last of my coffee. I expect Margot, but instead find myself looking at a new doorway that I could swear wasn't there before. Beyond it lies a bright sitting room where Villeneuve waits, seated at a gleaming grand piano.
Magic.
The house itself is magical, shifting and changing according to its master's will. Interesting. And more than a little unsettling, considering he doesn’t seem to be the type of creature thatcan use magic to begin with. That’s pretty much a witch thing. Someone must have enchanted this place.
"Did you sleep well?" Villeneuve asks without looking up from the piano keys. His fingers hover above them, not quite touching.
