Page 47 of Livewire Witch

“I don’t know.” I lean against Roscoe, our thighs pressing together. “There are only two times I’ve ever used that kind of magic.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The first was when I was twelve and getting ready for my birthday party. I remember putting these silver slides into my hair that my nanna had given me before she passed.” I keep my eyes fixed on the street as I tell the story I’ve never said out loud to anyone.

“I don’t remember much, just that I missed her and wished she could come to my birthday dinner. They were always stuffyand awkward. All the Archarcans getting together and bragging and networking. I never even got a cake. I just... my nanna wasn’t exactly a soft witch. She barely ever hugged me. But she was still the nicest member of my family.”

I clear my throat and Roscoe’s tattooed hand lands on my leg, squeezing gently.

“Anyway, I remember there was this... thumping and groaning at the front door, like someone was trying to get inside. Someone must have seen whatever it was because they started screaming.” I shudder. “I never saw exactly what was outside. But my mom locked me in my room. I was in there for hours and then this guy from the judiciary showed up. He gave me a potion that made my head go fuzzy and he asked me a bunch of questions. I guess he must have traced the magic back to me.

“A couple of hours later, I was being tossed in a cell. I was in a cell with Rook and he understood better than me what was going on, what they had planned for the two of us. And later that night, I was using my necromancy magic to fake mine and Rook’s deaths. They tossed us out with the rest of the trash and we managed to make our escape.” I shudder. The scent of the other corpses and the rotting food was scarred into my nose for a long time after that.

“Holy shit,” Roscoe says.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we can give the zombies a miss,” Zeph says, making me jump as he clambers onto the floor beside me.

“I didn’t realize you heard any of that.”

He freezes, eyes darting to the ground. He then rubs the back of his neck again. “Oh. Shit. I should have announced myself.”

“We’ll get him one of those collars with a tinkling little bell, like a cat wears,” Roscoe says with a grin.

Zeph turns toward me, twisting his enormous body around so that he’s facing me. He looks kind of ridiculous, trying to fold up his oversized frame to fit on the floor. “Hey, I’m sorry,” hesays, all gruff and sincere. “I didn’t mean to overhear something so personal. If you want, we’ll get Seb to do his little memory wiping trick of the past hour. I wouldn’t mind it being wiped out of my head, if I’m honest.”

Huh, big, bad Zeph offering to scour my words from his memory AND admitting to something like a weakness. I mean, he’s not recounting traumatic events of his childhood, but at least he’s admitting that disposing of bodies is not his favorite thing.

This is new.

But I can’t take him up on it.

“I think the less holey our heads, the better.” Twisting around, I add, “Where is Fabian, anyway?”

He shrugs those massive shoulders. “Who knows? He’s probably gone to do work somewhere. Pretty sure he’s not sleeping much at the moment.”

My chest squeezes. “I wish things would settle down a bit. It feels like he can barely catch his breath before the next disaster is looming.”

Zeph leans back against the nearest cupboard, awkwardly unfolding his limbs before splaying them out again with a little grunt.

“About that. Tomorrow maybe we should explore Dante’s list of haunts to try to find the shit that cursed Fabian. We could also have another go at showing off some of your powers around the district. I’ll illusion you up so they don’t know it’s you and we can crack the whip, keep people in line,” Roscoe says.

Before I can respond, he jumps to his feet. How he has so much energy still, I have no idea.

“Gotta piss,” he says. “Can you—” He makes a weird slurping sound. “Suck up some of my magic and take over for a minute?”

I’m smiling as I shake my head and reply, “Sure. Go. I’ve got this.”

Little does he know, my magic has already greedily soaked up his illusion magic.

As soon as the buffering effect of Roscoe’s company is gone, the silence that falls between me and Zeph is more than a little awkward. Something that only increases when he starts to speak again.

“I really... I wanted to tell you again. To let you know—” Z stammers and it’s painful to listen to. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry for accidentally eavesdropping while you were sharing some seriously personal shit with Roscoe. And I want to say again how sorry I am about how I talked to you when you first started helping us. I know you’re not trash.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a frustrated breath. “I mean, I know you know that you’re not, but I... well, I was a judgmental ass. Fuck, you’d think the second time around, I’d be better at finding the words to say I’m sorry for how I treated you in the past. It’s not going to happen again.”

Any past thoughts I might have had about how to get him to eat his words seem to disintegrate in the face of his sincerity.

That, and how hopeless he is at apologizing. It’s like the words are as unfamiliar to him as they would be if they were in a whole new language.

I find myself squeezing his rock hard thigh.

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