Page 53 of Hex
“Almost two days. In kyn terms, you’re still a baby, and you used a lot of power trying to protect your chosen and his brother.” She puts the coffee down onto the bedside table, which probably weighs a shit ton because it’s as bronze as everything else in here. I’m sensing a theme. Then she begins fiddling with the cuffs at my wrists. “You had a power surge while you were sleeping, so I had to give you these. They’re a suppressant,blocking your abilities from connecting with the nature around you. That’s where your power comes from.”
I rub at my wrists as soon as they’re free, merely because that’s what people do, isn’t it? I thought it would be rude to reach straight for the coffee while she’s still talking.
“There’s a bathroom through there.” She waves her arm toward one of the walls and an archway appears. “Freshen up, have a change of clothes, and we can talk afterward.”
“What’s stopping me from spiraling out of control again?” If I was so bad I had to be basically cut off, this is a pretty big concern.
“Your subconscious was dominant during slumber, and I know you want to find your chosen.” Hell yeah, I do. “But I believe you are strong enough to contain yourself for now. Don’t take too long in the bathroom, though.” The wink she ends her sentence with shouldn’t be the most surprising thing about this situation, but here we are.
Before I have a chance to form a coherent question, she glides from the room just as gracefully as when she entered.
Apparently, I just had this whole conversation in my underwear. How is it I’m only just noticing? Sighing, I pick up the coffee and inhale the bitter nectar scent, closing my eyes for a brief second, pretending the world isn’t topsy turvy and full of magical folk. Me being one of them. Notes of blackcurrant waft through my senses and I’m pretty sure this is the Witch Coffee brand I love. I guess it’s true that the owners are real witches too.
Coffee demolished, I strip off my dirt-streaked bra and panties before heading into the bathroom.
The design is similar to the bedroom, the only difference being white has taken the place of all the black, making my reflection in the mirror all the more shocking. My hair is in messy knots and smudges of dirt mar my skin, but most noticeable are thecolors of my eyes. They’re brighter than ever, the blue a bright cerulean, and the brown now has flecks of gold.
Shaking it off, I pee for what feels like days, and as I’m wiping, I realize how long it’s been since my last period. Definitely well over a month…two…goddess…has it been three months? I look down at my stomach…no changes. My boobs…nope, not bigger, either.
I mean, the last three months have been stressful, to say the least. If I was pregnant, I’d absolutely know it by now. Can I even get pregnant? Maybe that’s why there are no periods? Although I’ve only technically been a kyn for like, five days.
Flushing the toilet, I quickly figure out how to work the shower and stand beneath the warm spray. The surrounding is a frosted glass, and it’s huge. I could comfortably fit four of me in here. Water flows at a steady pace from the large bronze shower head and I let it run over me, washing away the dirt and grime from the last few days.
Constant thoughts of Hack plague me, but after what happened, I’m not allowing them to take control because I am at a point where I would happily burn the fucking world down to find him. I’m sick of being torn apart.
Strawberry scented products have been placed on a shiny bronze shelf on the white-tiled wall and it makes me wonder how much Hekate knows about me because it’s my favorite. Obviously, I use them, but I’m quick. I feel guilty enough that I’m able to shower when Hack is off goddess knows where.
When I come out of the bathroom, my damp hair in thick tendrils falling down my back, I am grateful for the clothes laid out on the bed. While I managed to conjure up an outfit previously, I’m not entirely sure I trust myself right now. My insides feel volatile, churning in anticipation of vengeance.
Dressed in one of the most beautifully badass outfits I have ever seen, I leave the bedroom in hopes of finding Hekatequickly. The half-skirt attached to the stretch-lace pants billows out behind me. The black fabric is thick, but it has pockets so it’s my new favorite thing. The black and purple top has long sleeves with holes for my thumbs and matches the bottom half with panels of lace.
The corridor outside the bedroom is long, lined with various doors of all shapes and sizes. A part of me wants to explore, but the rest of me hasn’t got time for that shit.
I hear voices coming from an open door to my right, and just a few more steps has me pausing at the scene inside the room.
Slash is sitting at a long glass table, his purple mohawk of locs and braids tied in a bun on top of his head, and he’s sipping on a cup of…tea? It’s in a teacup, whatever it is. What’s more disturbing is the woman beneath the table with her head bobbing up and down on his lap.
I stare for longer than necessary, because Hekate is also sitting at the table—at the head, of course—and she’s talking to Slash as though he isn’t being blown right in front of her. The glass table really leaves little to the imagination.
Clearing my throat, I walk inside the grand room, chandelier and all, hoping the woman beneath the table decides I’m just one too many people to witness what she’s doing—she doesn’t. I pull out the chair beside Hekate, opposite Slash, and I hold his eyes with my own, my look of disapproval clear with my raised brow and pursed lips.
“Even in the midst of a crisis, you find time to get blown.”
His booming laugh in response to my jibe makes me roll my eyes as I sit.
“There’s always time to get blown, little witchling.” He winks, then wags his brows before laughing again. Gripping the back of the woman’s head, her short white strands between his fingers, he pushes his chair back, taking her with him. I almost protest atthe new angle, but he pulls her head up, snaps his teeth at her, then kisses the fuck out of her before effectively dismissing her.
My stomach grumbles at the sight of all the fruit and cakes on the table, but I’m not sure if I’m here to eat or just hear a story. Well, important information, but life feels like a Grimm fairy tale right now.
“Help yourself, child.” Hekate’s soft voice flows over me, relaxing my nerves a little, and I don’t hesitate to dig in, helping myself to the biggest grapes I’ve ever seen, alongside a few pastry-looking things covered in cream and a golden syrup. I’m doing a lot of assuming, and realize I assumed correctly when I take my first bite.
“Where are the others?” I look up from my almost-empty plate and ask Slash, needing to fill the silence. I don’t know what the etiquette is here in asking for the answers I need.
“Pierce is in a meeting with the Dei of the spirit kyn.” I furrow my brow in confusion. “The one who rules over the djinn, banshees, harpies, wendigos and totemic spirits,” he adds. “Three of those kyn have been involved in all the bullshit, and that’s who you were supposed to meet before you decided to shed blood without me. I’m still fucked off about that, by the way. Include me next time, yeah? It’s been so fucking long since the last battle, I’m having withdrawals.”
“Isn’t the Dei going to be kinda pissed about that?” I know I should feel more guilt about it than I do, and I did…but the feeling is being overshadowed by anger and desperation to get Hack back. If that makes me a bad person then I guess that’s what I am.
“Oh yeah, mega pissed, but Slay has gone with him…secretly. Ain’t nobody getting away from Death. Not even a Dei.”
