Page 39 of Hex
The area is surprisingly quiet, almost silent as we make our way toward the front entrance, the only sound is the clicking of the low heel from my boots as they hit the sodden ground. It was raining heavily up until about ten minutes ago, meaning there’s no way to avoid the puddles. Thankfully, the thick, warm dress I’m wearing sits just above my ankles so my hem doesn’t get waterlogged.
Pushing the door open, the scent hits me first. Coffee and cake…the sweet and bitter mixed together in a perfect harmony of smells. Then the sounds make me close my eyes and breathe it in; the way the wind chimes on the ceiling softly sway with the dreamcatchers, a light music coming from the suspended tubes.
Visually, it looks exactly the same as it always has. The tables from out front are folded up behind the counter, ready for the morning, my table for readings still sits in the corner, the purple velvet curtain hanging ready to be drawn, and…what the…? That red hair is unmistakable.
“Danika?” My voice catches and my body moves involuntarily toward her, wrapping her in my arms as I sob with relief. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”
It takes me longer than necessary to realize that she isn’t hugging me back. She’s stiff in my arms, unmoving as I pull away and really look at her.
“It’s not Danika.”
The whisper in my ear has me jerking backward, tripping over my own feet, before my strong-as-fuck chosen one manages to catch me and stop me from hurting myself. Although…I’d heal now, wouldn’t I? That’s a power I have?
“Yes.”
Who the fuck, what now?
“Trina?” I scramble from Hack’s arms and stand upright, looking around the shop, ignoring the bewildered stare from the girl that looks like Danika but isn’t Danika. “Is this some kind of fucked up acid trip? Have I been drugged? Kidnapped again?” I’m all kinds of freaked out because I thought my best friend was okay, and the relief made me tear up, but the shock of realizing it isn’t her, along with the fact that I just heard Trina’s voice…I know magic exists, but shit. This is a lot.
“Satapti, what’s wrong?” The concern in his tone makes me take pause and really think about what’s going on. He doesn’t seem worried or shocked that not-Danika is standing here with wide eyes…
Before the supernatural shit hit the fan, I heavily relied on my intuition, my spirit guide, my natural—okay, not so natural—talents as a human witch. What is happening now feels a lot like that, so I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, concentrating on steadying my rapid heartbeat. I hone in on the headspace that allows me to contact my spirit guide, and wow…it’s clearer than ever before.
She’s right there…Trina.
Everyone has a spirit guide, whether you are aware of them or not, and they can change over time, depending on where you are in your life and who the fates think you need guidance from…and not once did I imagine I’d ever get Trina.
The spirits I would communicate with when giving a reading never appeared as clear as this. She’s not in a direct physical form, invisible to everyone except me—which is often how a spirit guide works—but I know, without a doubt, that it’s her. She smiles and that tender look she always reserved for Danika and me is firm on her face. It’s strange because she’s perfectly clear to me, and yet I know she isn’t, kinda difficult to describe so anyone else would understand.
“You know that isn’t Danika, sweet girl.”Her voice is so light and airy, barely there but impossible to ignore all at the same time.
Turning to Hack, I give him my best sheepish grin. “My new spirit guide is Trina.” A warmth fills me, a mixture of my own feelings and Trina’s combined.
“Happy for you, Satapti.” He chuckles and pulls me into him for a hug.
“Liege Hack, we hope all is satisfactory.”
I look up to find…myself? I’m standing next to not-Danika, wearing one of my favorite floaty black skirts and an orange knitted top.
“Yes, Bluebell. Is everything upstairs in order?”
She—not-me—bows her head and speaks. “Yes, Liege. It is as you requested.”
I clear my throat, getting bored of the verbal tennis. “Does someone wanna fill me in on why not-me and not-Danika are standing here, as if this is completely normal?” I look to Hack for the answer, because he is the one that has orchestrated this.
“Do you recall me telling you about the shapeshifters I called in to take care of things here?” He’s calm and unjudgey in his question.
“I mean, a lot has happened over the last few months. I died, I became a witch-slash-demi-goddess, I broke a hex that made me hate you…pretty sure I can be forgiven for forgetting about something like this?” Raising a brow, I push a fist into my hip and silently demand an explanation.
“Bluebell and Agatha are posing as you and Danika. They’re demons that work for my brothers and me and they have shapeshifting abilities. This way, the regulars all think you’re both fine, the shop runs just as smoothly as before, and nobody is going to the cops with questions about two missing girls. They could have posed as different people, but then we ran the risk ofyour regulars boycotting the shop out of loyalty to you, so this was the best option with the fewest variables.” Pausing, he rubs my arm and sighs. “We had to put a fake Trina in place for now, too. Until we can figure this shit out, her husband needs to stay in the dark about everything.” The whole time he explains, he’s rubbing a hand up and down my arm and I’m staring at the clones.
Now that I’ve had more time to figure them out, I can easily see the things that set us apart. Not-me has matching eyes, for a start, both of them brown, whereas not-Danika has a strange kind of pinkish tint to hers.
“If I may address your chosen, Liege?” Not-me keeps her head bowed while she speaks.
“She has her own mind and does not require my permission to do anything, Bluebell.”
Correct answer, handsome man of mine. I was about to speak for myself, but he got there first and smashed it.
