by Sarah Piper
His eyes flare with fire.
Kirin puts a hand on my shoulder and clears his throat, glaring at Baz in what feels like a show of dominance. It’s a protective gesture that I appreciate, but then, out of nowhere, Baz just laughs.
“Oh, I like this one.” He leans in close, throwing his arm around me in a congenial side-hug. “Can we keep her?”
“Keep yourself, jerk.” I slide out from under his arm, but I’m basically full of shit. At least half full, anyway. Because this guy, as epically assholian as he may be, is a specimen of male perfection, and there’s something intriguing about him I can’t quite put my finger on. His sense of humor may be a little rough around the edges, but it’s there, a genuine good nature he’s trying hard to hide.
“If you change your mind, Kirin has my number.” He’s still standing way too close, his scent invading my space—like woodsmoke and black pepper and freshly turned earth—and the longer he looks at me, those devil eyes flashing with mischief, promising all sorts of naughty trouble, the closer I am to taking him up on that offer…
Get a hold of yourself, you horny slut!
I force myself to take a step back and breathe in some normal air, recapturing a few brain cells I’ve clearly lost along the way.
Goddess, what is my deal? Kirin is one thing—I’ve been crushing on him for months. I could even give myself a pass on my brief attraction to Dr. Devane, considering the extreme circumstances under which we met, and how he saved my life and fed me tacos, a combo that’s nearly impossible to resist.
But this dickhead? He’s a… well, a dickhead. Obviously.
Must be these damn jeans Lala gave me. They’re creeping up too close, rubbing me in all the wrong ways, activating areas of my anatomy that have no business coming out of hibernation.
Go back to sleep, my pretties! Your services will not be needed at this time, thank you!
“I assume you have a name?” Baz asks me.
“Don’t tell him, Stevie,” Kirin says, laughing. “It’s like the ancient tales—he’ll only use it against you later.”
“Kirin! Remind me not to trust you with any real secrets.” I give Kirin a playful punch on the arm. “It’s Stevie. And there will be no using anything against me later, or I shall be forced to use my most devastating form of torture on you—singing karaoke.”
“You told me you love karaoke,” Kirin says.
“Yes, but as you might well learn, there’s often a wide, wide world of difference between loving a thing and being good at it.”
“That sounds like a dare,” Baz says. “Kirin, don’t you think that sounds like a dare?”
“Now that you mention it…” Kirin taps his lips. “We might have to make a mental note of this for future reference.”
I crack up. “Fine by me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Which house are you in?” Baz asks.
“Iron and Bone. You?”
“It must be fate.” Baz spreads his arms slowly, grinning like he’s showing off his personal domain. “Welcome home, Little Bird.”
I glance over at Kirin, who offers another apologetic frown.
“Baz,” he says, “you know we have a strict anti-harassment policy, right? Perhaps you should re-familiarize yourself with it before Stevie moves into the house.”
Baz flashes an exaggerated frown, then turns to me and whispers conspiratorially, “He’s always trying to ruin our fun.”
At the sound of our laughter, a trio of women ahead on the path looks up, simultaneously narrowing their eyes. One of them—a tall, willowy beauty with waist-length raven hair—whispers to the cute redhead standing next to her, both of them giggling. Then Raven shakes out her hair and marches toward us like a woman on a mission, the other two trotting along behind her.
“Hey,” she says when she reaches us, her eyes on Baz and Baz alone. Wrapping his hand in a possessive grip and turning her back on me in a way that tells me pretty much everything I need to know about her, she says, “You’re supposed to take me to Brew Burger for dinner.”
Baz, who seconds ago was cracking up and standing around like he owned the place, is suddenly tense and ornery, his energy taking on a prickly edge. “That’s tomorrow night, Carly.”
“It is? Oh, right! Sorry! Guess I just couldn’t wait to hang out.” She tries to lean her head on his shoulder, but he turns away, a movement that leaves her bobbing her head like a chicken.
“Carly,” he says, “this is Stevie. She’s new here, so, you know. Maybe be… less you?”
“Who?” she asks, still not looking at me, even though Kirin and I are standing right here. Behind her, the two groupies titter and bounce without speaking, and I can’t help but think of those bobblehead hood ornaments.
Baz glares at Carly. “What did I just say, Car?”
She makes a show of rolling her eyes, then turns to me as if she’s doing me the world’s biggest favor. I’m already trying to think of a way to shut this whole thing down when her eyes go wide, her jaw dropping to her chest.
“Oh my Goddess,” she breathes. For the last few minutes, she couldn’t spare me a single glance, but suddenly she’s staring at me like I’m the last Louis Vuitton bag at a half-price sale. “You’re… you’re spirit-blessed!”
Baz raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t say anything.
“Sure am,” I say with a shrug, as if it’s no biggie. As if I have any idea what it really means. Everyone else seems to be either impressed, astonished, or both. “How did you know?”
“I have my ways,” she coos. “We should totally hang out sometime. Get my number from Baz, okay?”
Her minions frown. I’m beginning to wonder whether they need her permission to speak. Maybe they do—maybe her Tarot affinity is a Queen.
I don’t respond, but Carly offers me a blindingly insincere smile anyway, then turns to Baz, pushing out her perfectly pouty lips. “Can you help me with something in my dorm?”
He blows out an annoyed breath. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
I didn’t think it was possible to be jealous over a guy I’ve known all of seven minutes, but when he turns to follow her, there’s a nasty little ping in my chest.
Why, little ping? Why are you doing this to me?
Carly collects her friends and moves on, and Baz turns to look at me over his shoulder, his smile bright once again. “See you around, Little Bird.”
“Sure thing.” Then, waiting until they’re several yards down the path, I call out again. “Hey Baz!”
He turns around, grinning.
“Remember what I said about women!” I give him the thumbs-up. “Think good thoughts!”
He cracks up again, shaking his head before turning back to the bobbleheads and vanishing down the path.
“So that was Carly Kirkpatrick,” Kirin says. “Of the Boston Kirkpatricks, also known as the Academy’s biggest donors.”
“Great. Something tells me she’s going to be trouble.”
“Good instincts.” Kirin removes a small white cloth from his pocket and polishes his glasses, then pops them back on with a fresh smile to match. “So yeah, your suite is in Iron and Bone—you’ve got the top floor, northwest corner, which means lots of stairs to climb, but you’ve also got a huge space and a killer view of the petrified forest and the Towers of Breath and Blade.”
My smile stretches wide.
“Your basics should be in there already—stocked fridge, tablet, laptop, phone. They probably told you to sign in to the student portal—you’ll find instructions on how to do that when you boot up the laptop. Oh, there’s a credit card, too—it’s prepaid every month with your stipend, so you can pick up whatever personal things you need at the stores around campus.”
“That’s amazing.”
“You’re telling me. You must know somebody in high places,” he teases. “Or you are somebody in high places.”
“Either way, you’re officially in my squad now, so you’re good.”
“I’v
e never been in a squad before.” Kirin laughs, then jumps, his phone buzzing in his pocket. “That’s probably about your move.” He pulls it out and glances at the screen. “Yeah, it’s Cass—Dr. Devane. He says to tell you—well, here.”
He flips the phone to show me the message: Her suite is ready. Please tell Stevie I will deliver the tea order and climbing gear tomorrow afternoon. If she’s planning to be away, I’ll need temporary access.
“I assume you know what he’s talking about?” he asks.
“I do.” My smile is getting wider by the second. Of all my crazy demands, the tea was the most important, the gear a close second. Devane came through for me.
Maybe the good doctor isn’t such a cranky old bastard after all.
“You can set a temp access code for him on your external security pad—you’ll see it outside the door. It’s easy to figure out, but let me know if you need help. I asked them to program my number into your phone. There’s a student directory app too, but I wanted you to have me on speed-dial just in case.”
“Thank you, Kirin. For the tour, and the latte, and everything back home… If you hadn’t been there…”
He steps closer, putting his strong hands on my shoulders, peering at me over the tops of his glasses. “But I was there. And now you’re here. That’s what matters. Whatever happens next? We’ll deal with it.”
I nod, barely keeping the tears in check. It’s been a long day—a long week—and I’m starting to crash. “Don’t take this as a reflection on your tour-giving skills, but I think I’d like to head upstairs and settle in, maybe take a nap.”
“No problem. You want company?”
“Um…” I raise an eyebrow, my face going hot as Jessa’s words from that last day float through my mind.
I’m warming up his buns… Maybe one day you’ll get to do the same. In bed. Naked.
Kirin shoves a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning the color of the river. His embarrassed smile is the most endearing thing I’ve seen all day. “I meant… shit. I meant company to walk you to your room.”
I shake my head and laugh. “I think I can manage. But I’ll keep the offer in mind next time I’m up for some naptime company.”
Now Kirin raises an eyebrow.
Oh, lips. Why are you always moving in such stupidly mortifying ways?
In the end, Kirin walks me partway, just to the entrance of Iron and Bone. Overhead, the black flag bearing the house insignia hangs proudly, flanked by two stately gargoyles.
“You good?” Kirin asks.
“Not completely,” I answer honestly, reaching for the door to my new home-away-from-home. “But I have a feeling I will be.”
I just have to figure out how to learn magick after living twenty-three years in the mundane darkness, decipher Mom’s cryptic prophecies before everyone freaking dies, steer clear of the bobbleheads, and—most importantly—convince my libido to run for the hills, batten down the hatches, and take cover, shoving Kirin, Baz, and Dr. Devane so far into the friend zone they’ll need to take a fucking bus just to say good morning to me.
Yeah, I got this… Said no one, ever.
Twenty
STEVIE
Dr. Devane totally lied to me.
This isn’t a college dorm suite. It’s a Goddess-damned luxury apartment straight out of Architectural Digest, with red Spanish tile flooring and thick, hand-woven rugs, walls the color of freshly churned butter, and furniture as gorgeous as it is cozy. Tarot-themed paintings hang on every wall, and there’s a bright, oversized novelty deck on the coffee table next to a stack of board games. Throw pillows in reds, turquoises, and oranges accent the couch and chairs in the living room, which opens into an island kitchen with granite countertops, stainless-steel appliances, and blonde oak cabinets. Huge, floor-to-ceiling windows dominate the north and west walls, giving me a million-dollar view across the Petrified Forest and the Towers of Breath and Blade, just like Kirin said.
Standing in the middle of the living room, I feel like a peasant who accidentally wandered into the palace, and though the suite unlocked for me when I placed my hand on the security scanner outside, I keep looking back at the door, half-expecting Trello to show up and tell me they’ve made a terrible mistake.
After a good ten minutes, when it seems no one’s coming to kick me out after all, I finally allow myself to venture as far as the bedroom.
Make that bedrooms. Two of them, fully furnished, connected by a huge white-and-turquoise bathroom complete with jetted soaking tub, separate shower, and dual sinks.
At the edge of the tub, there’s a tray with a few candles, a jar of bath salts, and a book with a post-it stuck to the front. I recognize it from that day in Kettle Black—the paperback Kirin was reading, with the old farmhouse on the cover. He must’ve asked Dr. Devane to leave it for me.
The invitation still stands, the note says, and my heart does a little flip, remembering all the good things about that day, those sweet moments before the cops showed up and hauled me out of my life.
I just thought it might be fun to hang out. You know, outside of Kettle Black. We can talk about…books! Or, you know, anything you like. What do you like? Other than tea, I mean. Okay, I’m rambling. Save me, Stevie. Say something before I make an even bigger fool of myself…
I leave the book on the tray for now, but grab the note, bringing it into the bedroom and sticking it on the dresser mirror, my cheeks aching from the dopey smile on my face.
Reflected in the mirror, set up on a white wooden desk in the corner, I spot some computer equipment and—thank Goddess—a phone.
Jessa!
I power on the device, letting out a little victory yelp when it actually blinks to life with my name on the screen. Just as Kirin promised, his number is already programmed in, along with the office numbers for Dr. Devane, Anna Trello, and Professor Phaines. They’ve included a few of the campus restaurants too, and there—between Hopscotch Brewery and Jumpin’ Jack’s Java—is a name that brings tears to my eyes.
Jessamine Velasquez.
I hit the button for video chat, holding my breath as I wait for it to connect.
“You’re alive!” Jessa’s smile takes up the whole screen, tears running down her cheeks, her perfect eyeliner wings melting before my eyes. “Blazing fucking balls, Starla Eve Milan, I’m going to kill you! I would’ve killed you a lot harder if you were dead, but I’m still—”
“Yeah, I miss you too, Jessa.”
“Less missing,” she says with a laugh, sniffing and swiping her hand across her eyes, “more talking. Kirin told me you were safe, but I didn’t let myself believe it until now. I need to know everything.”
I curl up on one of the soft chairs in the living room—holy shitcakes, I have an actual living room!—and pull a fleece throw over my shoulders, settling in for the tale.
In a breathless rush, I tell her everything—prison, Dr. Devane, Mom’s prophecies, Lala, the Academy. My vision and the spirit-blessed thing, all the people I’ve met so far, this insane apartment. By the time I stop blathering on, the evening sun is no more than a memory, a pale purple mist creeping across the Towers and forest beyond my windows.
“Your turn,” I tell her, stretching and heading into the kitchen for a snack. The fridge and pantry are well-stocked, but I grab the first thing I see—a box of crackers and a jar of natural peanut butter. “How are you holding up? What happened after I left? How’s… how’s Rita?”
Jessa’s face falls, her eyes watering once again. “It’s not great here, Stevie. Rita’s a mess, to be expected—the town is really rallying behind her, doing fundraisers and stuff. But you should know… She doesn’t believe for a minute it was you. She said she knows you always loved Luke like a brother. She wanted me to know that. When she heard the news tonight about your so-called suicide, she was devastated.”
My throat tightens. Poor Rita.
“I wish I could talk to her,” I say, “but that’s impossible now. I’m not sure wh
en—or if—I’ll ever be able to come back.”
Jessa nods, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear. She looks exhausted; I can only imagine what it’s been like for her.
“Stevie, I’m sorry to say this, but since the arrest and the uproar about witchcraft…” She closes her eyes, shakes her head as if she can’t believe what she’s about to tell me.
I know what’s coming next, and I do what I can to brace myself.
“No one’s been in Kettle Black aside from Rita,” she continues. “The landlord said they have to re-let the space. He was nice enough to give me till the fifteenth to get everything cleared out, but there was nothing I could say to change his mind. To change anyone’s mind.”
I’ve got no words for it, nothing but a sad resignation.
Kettle Black—my parents’ dream, the place Jessa and I basically grew up in, the place where we spent more of our time than any other place in Tres Búhos—is gone.
I look around the apartment, taking in the award-winning decor, the stunning views, the beautiful artwork. I think about Dr. Devane and Anna Trello, the professor, Kirin, Baz, the other students. I think about the campus shops and the cafés and the karaoke.
I think about that day up on the Grande, lighting my palo santo, paging through Mom’s grimoire, still trying to convince myself that I could live a normal, mundane existence.
What a difference a week makes.
“I’m so sorry, Stevie. I hate that it’s come to this. I hate that you’re all the way over there and I’m here and I can’t even hug you.”
“Good thing you’re so extra I can feel the love all the way over here.” I smile, drying my own tears. “Thank you for trying.”
“I’ve got all the T-shirts and stuff, the memorabilia. I’m going to hang on to it for you, okay? With all your other things from home.”
“What are you going to do for work? For a roommate?”
Jessa blows a breath into her bangs, looking up at the ceiling to keep the fresh tears at bay. “I’ve decided to go back home. To Mexico.”