Page 2 of The Nephilim's Touch
“What about?” Lark, he’s Fae, hops up on the bar, his wings flitter as he gets comfortable. His long pink hair is braided back today.
I turn and give them both a bright smile. “Just grateful to be here. Hex is great, and so is this place.”
“Glad you’re happy.” Pike looks around and cringes as he picks up an empty bottle of HellFire. “Did Wick really go through three bottles today?”
“Yeah, I cut him off and sent him to sit with Frankie, though.” I wave toward the pair, keeping to myself that Wick tried to start a fight with a gargoyle… again. Poor Warwick stares at the ceiling with his hands in Frankie’s short fur.
“I worry about him,” Lark nibbles his bottom lip as he looks up at Pike.
“So do I.” Pike scratches his jaw. “He’s getting worse. It’s concerning he keeps drinking HellFire when the effects don’t work on him anymore.”
I nod with a sigh. I keep trying to befriend Warwick, but he keeps brushing me off. HellFire is the only thing that gets demons drunk. Now he drinks it because it lets him go slightly numb.
I rub at my chest because my heart aches for the demon. He’s not much younger than me and he lost his one true love to magic years ago. Some say—okayA LOTsay—he needs to move on, but I say they don’t understand how demons work.
In the time I’ve been in Hex, Indiana, I’ve discovered a lot about demons, witches, vampires, and shifters that I never knew before living here. Demons get attached. Like…attachedattached. And what people forget is that Wick and Ethan they go way back.Wayway back. It’s hard to just forget your first love.
Lark’s shoulders slump. Pike swipes his face and his tail shimmies before wrapping around his waist.
“I appreciate what Van did for us.” Pike holds his hand out for Lark and squeezes. “But I don’t think he realized how much him needing to disappear for a while would affect Wick.”
I nod again and my stomach rumbles like a damn lion possessing me. The two look at me wide eyed and I shrug. “Missed lunch before coming in.”
Pike chuckles and drops a hand on my shoulder. “We’re slow right now and things’ll pick up later. How about you go take your break?”
My stomach growls again, answering for me. “I do wanna go back to that magic shop. I got a bunch of fun add-ins for cocktails last time.”
“Magic shop?” Lark tips his head and turns to Pike. “We have a magic shop?”
“First I’m hearing about it,” Pike says.
“What?!” I say. “It’s this neat little shop a couple blocks down. It’s by the library, between the groomer and the nail salon.”
They both shake their heads. Now that I’m thinking about it…
“Okay, I have noticed it does kind of come and go. Figured it was the coven’s doing. The Owner is always nice. And he always has some new plant!” I bounce on my toes just thinking of the latest one I got from him a few weeks ago. He called it a magic orchid and I have to use special water. It sparkles like stars at night and I use it as a nightlight in the hall of my apartment.
“Of course you’re excited about the plants,” Pike chuckles as he tugs Lark from the counter and into his arms.
“Have I shown you all my plant babies?” I pull my phone from my pocket and they both step back.
“Yes,” Lark laughs. “And you’ve named them all. They’re beautiful, but…” He backs away with Pike. “We’ll pass. Go take your break. We’ll hold things down until Ava gets here.”
“Fair enough.” I give them a grin as I untie the black half apron around my waist and fold it onto the counter.
I swipe my black hair out of my face. It’s down to my shoulders now and I constantly ask Lark for his hair routine, but he always tells me it’s Fae genetics. As soon as I open the door, the humidity soaks into my hair and makes it frizz. One hundred percent not a fan. I brush it back some more and curse myself for forgetting hair tiesyet again. Whatever, I’ll grab some before I head back to work.
My favorite pastel green Chuck Taylor High Tops (they have a cute little bow on the ankle!) crunch over the loose gravel that found its way to the sidewalk. Wind whips in the trees, sending green leaves and my damn hair everywhere. It’s the tail end of summer, and not gonna lie, Southern Indiana summers aren’t where it’s at. It’s so hot and humid, it’s like breathing soup. I like soup, but not air soup.
Despite the summer air soup, I love that in Hex, I can just be. If I want to let my wings out, I can and no one will look at me twice. But… again. It’s hot and I don’t like being hot and my wings make me hot. So packed away they stay. I wiggle my shoulder blades because now my back itches where my wings would be if I let them out to play.
Luckily, The Magic Shop isn’t too far away and my walk is pleasant even if my allergies come out in full force. My nose drips and I blink a few times to get the grit from my eyes. Ugh, I’ll get back to work red eyed and that’s not the best look, butat least Pike and Lark know I don’t do drugs, well not anymore. And it was only pot. Like five times.
Barely anyone drives in Hex. Most people either walk, fly, or teleport. The air is sweeter than anyplace else I’ve ever lived, which is quite a few places. Navy brat retired from duty at your service. I stop and salute the tree to my right before continuing my walk.
Chimes twinkle in the breeze, and I hum as I go. There’s always something fun to discover in Hex. Always. Even the squirrels seem magical.
The familiar red script of The Magic Shop’s sign comes into view and I speed up. The shop’s in a tiny strip mall between a nail salon for “those girlies and ghoulies with talons and claws” as the sign says, and a pet groomer for “those Hellhounds that need a trim.” I can’t believe how out and open every shop is about catering to the supernatural. It’s nothing like, well, the rest of the world.
