Page 35 of Hex Appeal
Jess
The following morning came in soft and gold, sunlight spilling through my curtains like it hadn’t gotten the memo about last night. I woke to the faint sound of Raven muttering to himself on the windowsill and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.
Bianca was sprawled in the armchair by the hoodie-wrapped mirror, one leg dangling over the side. Hand still clutching the salt pouch like she’d fallen asleep in the middle of her shift on guard. Nate’s voice drifted from the kitchen, talking to my mom about cereal like nothing in the world was wrong.
For a second, I let myself believe it was just a normal morning.
Then, Bianca cracked one eye open. “Don’t get used to it,” she mumbled. “Your boy still flinches every time he sees a toaster reflection.”
I tossed her a pillow. She caught it without looking and hugged it to her chest.
Downstairs, Nate called, “We’re out of spoons!” like it was some kind of emergency.
I smiled in spite of myself and padded toward the door. That was when the low purr of an engine rolled up our driveway.
By the time I reached the front window, the candy-apple red convertible was already idling by the curb, sun glinting off the hood.
Baba Yaga stepped out like she owned the morning. Her electric-pink power suit had shoulder pads sharp enough to take an eye out, which she partnered with a pencil skirt and stilettos that struck the pavement like a countdown. Her hair was a gravity-defying wall of teased perfection, and her deep crimson nails, shiny enough to catch the light like glass, tapped once against her hip in a sound that somehow made the morning go still.
"Jessica Knox," she said, in the same tone she’d once used to list off Council statutes. "You’ve gone and done it. Made a mess big enough to draw the attention of things you can’t even name then cleaned it up yourself. That’s no small feat, and I’m not so mean as to pretend otherwise. I’m almost impressed.”
“Almost?” I asked.
She arched a brow. “Don’t push it, Knox. You broke at least three Council statutes and invited a mirror creature into the real world. That doesn’t happen again. Ever.”
I raised a hand. “Scout’s honour.”
“You were never a scout.”
“Still counts.”
Her mouth twitched, not a full smile, but close. “But this"—her nails clicked once more—"cannot happen again. The world does not hand out second chances to those who tempt its teeth twice. Next time you stir the cauldron without knowing what’s inside, it won’t just be your fingers you lose. I’m pleased with you, Jess. Truly. But my pleasure doesn’t make you safe. Take your victory, take the lesson, and walk careful. You will not get another warning from me. For now, I’ll keep this off the record. But I mean it:—one more stunt like this, and you’ll be polishing the floors in Magical Containment Prison until your hair turns grey. Clear?”
“Crystal.” I ducked my head, voice quiet but steady. “I understand. I won’t make the same mistake again. I swear it.”
Baba Yaga’s gaze flicked past me, as though searching the shadows for stragglers.
“He’s really gone?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Etan?”
Her lips curled, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. “Gone,” she said. “No need to worry, as long as you keep your pretty fingers out of that kind of magic. Feed a mirror once and it remembers the taste forever.”
A shiver worked its way down my spine. “Right. Staying far, far away.”
Baba Yaga studied me for a beat, as if testing the weight of the promise. Then, she turned, crossing to her gleaming, lacquered car. In a single, practiced motion, both witch and vehicle dissolved into a billowing cloud of rich purple smoke shot through with sparkling blue bubbles that floated skyward and popped like tiny stars. The faint, sugary-sharp scent of Aqua Net lingered in the air.
Raven fluttered onto my shoulder, giving the spot where Baba Yaga had stood a final, wary glance. “Well,” he said, his voice as dry as old parchment. “At least she didn’t turn you into a lawn ornament. I’d call that a win.”
I huffed out a shaky laugh, brushing glittery residue off her sleeve. “Right now, I’ll take any win I can get.”
By Monday, Nate and I were back at school.
Physically, at least. Mentally, I was still replaying the moment in the mirror maze when Etan had looked at me like I was the most important thing in either world. Which was not the healthy post-crisis mindset I’d been going for.
It didn’t help that the halls buzzed with post-Etan gossip.
“Have you noticed Nate’s gone back to being… Nate?” someone whispered near my locker.
“Yeah,” their friend said. “Not in a bad way. Just less dramatic.”
