Hex on the Beach

by Melissa Marr

  “So . . . Satan can only torment Christians?” Allie asked in an increasingly twangy voice. In public, she contained her rural roots, but I swore she sounded like this just because it got a rise out of Christy.

  Like I said, we were family, and this family’s shit-stirrer was Alice. She’d tried to murder me last year, and Christy and Jesse were the hold-outs on the forgiveness front. I understood why. Allie had been in a bad situation, and back then, I was just a stranger. Alice was a lot of things, but she was loyal to a fault. That loyalty was mine now, and honestly, I understood why she tried to kill me then. My friends were a lot less accepting.

  Silently, I held out my back-up water bottle to Christy. “Vodka, no blood.”

  Christy took it and walked into the living room. Sera followed.

  “Behave or I’ll leave you home to babysit the fight dummies,” I warned Allie.

  She offered a semi-penitent smile. “Yes, boss.”

  “I mean it.”

  This time, she straightened up. “Let me send this to Lady B and then I’ll be good. Scout’s Honor!” She crossed her heart, which even I knew was not the right gesture, but really there was a limit to what was possible where Allie was concerned.

  Chapter Four

  “So South Beach? Myrtle Beach? San Diego? Savannah?” Sera knew me well enough that she didn’t bother asking about inland options. I’d had dreams of beaches as long as I could recall. New Orleans offered the banks of the Mississippi and a gator-filled bayou. It was lovely in its own way, but not quite the beach of my dreams.

  I was trying to be considerate, though, so I said, “I thought maybe some of you might have opinions . . .”

  Christy shook her head. “As long as there’s liquor, I’m flexible.”

  I frowned. Christy wasn’t a big drinker. She ran Eli’s bar, and she’d hustled pool in it for years. Both required sobriety.

  “Liquor? That’s the criteria. Why?” I asked.

  “Hangry Gen? No thanks.” Christy grinned at me, and then she pointed at Alice. “And dealing with her while we’re sober?”

  Allie, thankfully, had taken my warning seriously. “I swear to be good. If you say ‘shut up,’ I’ll—”

  “Shut up,” Sera interrupted.

  Allie stared at her, but she closed her mouth. After a few moments, she raised her hand like we were in a classroom.

  “Yes?” Sera prompted.

  “I have a place down on the North Carolina coast, or there’s a great spa in San Diego. Either one would be super cheap.” Allie plopped down on the sofa, folding her legs up in some sort of yoga-ish way.

  We exchanged looks.

  “How is the spa cheap? Spas are usually expensive, aren’t they?” Christy finally asked.

  “Sure, but . . . I sort of bought it when Prince Eli said you wanted to get away,” Allie muttered.

  “You bought a spa when . . . we . . . seriously? Who does that?” I stared at her. My assistant was wealthier than anyone I knew--other than my husband--but sometimes it still made my head hurt that she was so impulsive.

  “I didn’t buy it for you.” Allie pouted like the trophy wife she’d been when I met her. “I just thought that it was a way to atone for the SAFARI days. I would run fae specials, witch specials, and maybe draugr specials, but only for those Lady B approved.”

  Alice gave me a look that shouldn’t work on me, but still did. I knew she was sincere, trying to atone for her prior hate-group affiliation, and she honestly had the excess money. I just didn’t know what to say. “But . . . you bought it?”

  “Lady Beatrice looked over the investment papers. I even ran it by Prince Eli.” Allie looked proud. “We don’t need to go there, but at some point, I do. I mean, I bought it. So, I ought to visit and see it.”

  I exchanged a look with Christy and Sera.

  “I’ll give you a good discount,” Allie added. “Like a package rate! And maybe you can give me business owner tips?” She looked first at Sera and then at Christy. “Or management tips?”

  “San Diego, then?” Sera asked.

  “San Diego,” Christy agreed.

  As much as I didn’t know how I felt about the spa part, I couldn’t contain the smile on my face. “I’m going to see the Pacific fucking Ocean.”

  * * *

  Within moments of deciding where we were going, Allie had whipped out her laptop to book flights.

  “We can charter a flight to go direct,” Allie suggested. “Or there’s coach class with a layover.”

  “Charter,” Christy said. “The boss is covering the flight.” She shot me a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Gen. He’s worried about too much publicity because of the you’re-the-co-heir-to-the faery-throne thing.”

  I nodded. I was only the heir at all because of marrying Eli. I had zero interest in being royalty—although I was pretty damn stoked by my diplomatic passport.

  The reality, however, was that I was remarkably unsuited to any throne. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea that anyone would give two shakes of a duck’s butt about me. I guess blue-haired necromancers were rare enough, and the thought of a human—and witches were, in fact, considered human--marrying into fae royalty was supremely news-worthy.

  Draugr-human, on the other hand, might create a different sort of news. I’d lived most of my entire twenty-nine years so far with a vague fear that I’d end up in a lab, dissected by zealous scientists. Don’t get me wrong: I’m very pro-science. I’m also very pro-not-dying. And the fear—the rightful fear--humanity had of draugr meant that I wasn’t sure science would care too much about my death if it resulted in answers that would assuage fears. I was genetically linked to the monsters. I couldn’t blame scientists for seeking answers.

  But I was hoping to never get exposed for what I was. That meant no travel. My weird genetics would set off alarms. Now, though, my first flight was going to be on a small, chartered plane.

  “. . . and they specialize in unique clientele,” Allie was saying. Obviously, she’d been talking while I was still pondering, so I nodded as if I’d been listening.

  “So, you’re saying 10 in the morning actually works for you?” Christy prompted.

  I guess I’d missed that detail.

  “Sure!” I said in forced cheer.

  “The boss can nap in flight.” Allie clicked a few more keys on her laptop with a flourish. “Tomorrow, we head west!”

  * * *

  The next day, hours after our meeting, the four of us were picked up in an extended-length, black SUV. When I climbed in, I had to suppress a wide smile.

  “Excited?” Christy prompted.

  My attempt to look calm faltered. “You have no idea.”

  I’d packed light on clothes and modestly on weapons. My sword-and-bikini bag clattered as it was loaded into the rear of the SUV.

  “Are you still going to sleep in flight?” Sera shot me a concerned look.

  “Cat naps are all I really need since my, err”--I lowered my voice--“accidental marriage.”

  “Accidental?” Christy scoffed. “Did you trip and land on his dick? While naked? And professing love?”

  Allie and Sera both smothered laughs, and I couldn’t help but smile, too.

  “Tripping over Eli and being naked is not as uncommon in my life as you might think,” I faux protested.

  “You’re so lucky.” Allie made a swooning, sighing sound.

  “True,” I admitted with a smile. I really really was. Anyone finding love was lucky.

  I had never expected to be married, but Eli was everything I could want. He understood me. He saw me as an equal. And he never tried to change me. Plus, to be fair, he was the single most beautiful person I’d ever met.

  Calling my marriage accidental was unfair. True love and sex created an unbreakable marriage bond with the fae, and my suspicions that what Eli and I shared was true love had been confirmed when a moment of perfect unity—a naked and sweaty moment—had resulted in an eternal bond.

  I d
idn’t regret it.

  Before that, there were loopholes we’d tried to exploit initially—or rather, loopholes I’d tried to exploit. By the time of our naked, only-two-person-in-attendance wedding, I had been ready to try marriage. Magic involved intent, and my magic knew what I wanted before I truly admitted it.

  While I was pondering my newly married state, my friends and I were driven to the little airstrip reserved for charter flights and private planes. Our ride was all tinted glass and driven by a man in an expensive suit and shades. When he parked, he began opening doors.

  “Ma’am,” he said opening the door for Christy. He repeated the word as Sera stepped out. Allie got the same gentlemanly hand and “Ma’am.”

  I was last.

  He bowed before extending his hand. “Your Royal Highness.”

  I bit back my grumble. In the short time between marrying Eli and now, I’d been letting Eli handle all the etiquette stuff I didn’t know. I didn’t have that luxury today. I accepted the driver’s hand, stepped out of the car, and tried not to trip.

  Four similarly suit-and-shades clad people--a man, one nonbinary person, and two women—surrounded us in obvious formation. Guards. It appeared that my car service was not simple luxury.

  “Are the windows bullet-proof?” I asked quietly.

  “The entire vehicle is,” one answered.

  “And you are . . .?”

  The one woman, who had undeniable fae features, met my gaze unflinchingly. “Fae Royal Service. When His Royal Highness, Prince Eli of Stonecroft said you would be traveling, His Majesty deployed us.”

  Maybe it was the early hour, but my temper sparked enough that my hair seemed to be lashing around me like silent, blue serpents. I had my phone in hand with the speed usually reserved for weapons.

  Eli answered on the first ring. “Are you bleeding?”

  “I only left thirty minutes ago. Why do you always think there’s trouble?” I teased, but I grinned despite myself.

  The sound of his chuckle drew my sour mood closer to level. “Because you are never predictable, bonbon.”

  “Did you know the car was bulletproof, Eli?”

  “Of course. Aren’t all car services?” He sounded perplexed.

  I watched as one of the Fae Guard went onto the plane, checking for whatever he felt necessary. The others stood around us as our luggage was loaded.

  “I don’t want guards,” I grumbled into the plane. “I’ll accept an armored car, and I’m thrilled by the chartered plane and diplomatic passport, but what sort of fun is a spa weekend with a host of armed guards?”

  “Guards?” Eli echoed. “What am I missing, Geneviève?”

  “Are they not your guards?” My hand went to my gun. All I’d had was a stranger’s word. I was getting sloppy.

  “Royal Decree 312,” one of the guards said loudly.

  I flicked the phone to speaker and slid into the holster that had been holding my preferred revolver. Two birds. One holster.

  The Fae Guard continued, “In the interim between bonding and anchoring, the non-fae spouse shall be kept secure and uninjured if said spouse separates from the fae spouse for any length of time longer than thirty-three minutes.”

  “Legit?” I asked Eli over the phone. My gun was still loose in my hand.

  To my left I saw Allie pull her far-too-large .45 from her purse.

  Christy pulled out one slick 9mm and one near machete-sized knife.

  Sera simply stepped behind Allie, but she accepted the knife from Christy. She wasn’t a weapons person, but she could be as fierce as an angry raccoon if necessary.

  The Fae Guards eyed us all curiously.

  Eli’s sigh was loud. The word he said sounded like “row sheen,” but I realized it was a name when one of the female guards said, “This is Roisin, Your Royal Highness.”

  “I assume my uncle sent you,” Eli said.

  “He did.” Roisin watched us, looking almost fascinated. Her gaze lingered on Sera, and I hoped it was only a flicker of interest as opposed to not selecting a target.

  “Stand down, Roisin.” Eli’s voice was deep with anger, and I knew that if I could see him right now, his normally calm façade would have slipped.

  The Fae Guard grinned. “You’re not king yet, Prince Eli, and I’m no longer your training mate. Unless my king orders me to do so, my squad will be with Her Royal Highness.”

  “Can I shoot them?” Allie loudly whispered. “I bet we could stop them from getting on the plane.”

  Roisin and the other guards all flinched, but Roisin was the one who replied, “We don’t ride in metal tubes. We will meet you upon arrival.”

  “How . . .” Sera started.

  “Plane. Now.” Christy motioned Sera forward, and Allie followed.

  “I’ll speak to my uncle,” Eli said before the phone went silent.

  Once I boarded the plane, the steps were raised. The Fae Guard watched. Once we started taxiing, I looked through the window again.

  I could see one of the guards rip a slice in the air. In a moment, they’d all stepped through the shimmering veil. They’d travel into Elphame and then re-appear in San Diego. The land of the fae was not beholden to normal laws of science; time, distance, and space were different there. The fae could hop anywhere in the world of humans by crossing through their homeland. My mind boggled at the possibilities—and the speed. It was the next best thing to the draugr ability to flow—their travel was faster than mortal sight could follow.

  Despite the other options available to the fae and the draugr—options I could use, too--I was excited to be in the air. The other ways might be faster, but flying felt like a magic all its own. No feathers, no hollow bones, and yet humanity had found a way to hurtle themselves into the sky.

  I watched the ground seem to drop from under us as the plane launched into the air. Every bit of logic I had said it ought not work, but there we were, escaping gravity, escaping the very ground, and racing through air. It might not be the sort of magic witches knew, but it left me exhilarated all the same.

  Chapter Five

  “We could land in Long Beach,” Allie said, jarring me to wakefulness.

  I blinked up at her. Apparently, I had dozed off in the comforting fluttering movements of the plane. The pilot had called it turbulence, but it felt a bit like the few times I’d been on a small boat in the Mississippi River, rolling and jolting. It had lulled me to sleep the same as the river’s waves had done.

  “Context?” I asked.

  Allie held out a cocktail with a proud flourish. “Spicy breakfast.”

  My assistant had a fondness for naming the blood concoctions that she procured. I sipped, paused, and sipped again. “Not Allie juice. Whose blood is this?”

  She sighed. “I told her you’d know!”

  I sipped again. “Not my grandmother either. Not Eli . . . not human, though.”

  “Lady B’s assistant.” Alice patted her purse, where I knew a large handgun and lipstick and itinerary were stored. “I added cayenne, cumin, tomato juice, vodka, probiotics, garlic; it’s, sort of like a Tex-Mex Bloody Mary, heavy on the blood. I told them you’d know it wasn’t my blood.”

  “Why?” I sipped. Tomato, contrary to many opinions, was a kind of fruit. I knew that with certainty because I was getting a breakfast-drink buzz.

  “Oh, well, in case you needed more blood than I have.” Allie was chipper as she announced this as if my leechlike appetite wasn’t exhausting. Before I could object, apologize, or lament, she patted her giant handbag. “It’s like preparation for if I ever need to carry baby formula. I mean, except for the vodka . . . and the blood . . . and—”

  “Long Beach?” Sera interrupted. She did not look like she’d slept, more like she’d developed a distinct case of air sickness.

  “So, the guards will be at San Diego Airport, but we could land at Long Beach—like an hour on the freeway this time of day—and drive there. No guards. No armored cars. Just us.” Allie grinned.


  “Do it.” I didn’t even pause. Maybe Eli could call off the guards, but if not, the fact was that an armed entourage drew attention, and I was not interested in that. I wanted to lose myself with my friends and sit on a beach.

  “They’ll still meet us at the spa,” Sera pointed out.

  “My spa.” Allie rummaged in her purse and held up a little packet. “Electrolytes. Great for hangovers and flights.”

  Sera gratefully accepted, and then Allie went off to talk to captain.

  “She’s terrifying,” Sera muttered.

  “You’re not wrong.” I sipped my breakfast. The fruit would leave me vaguely tipsy, but wasn’t that the point of the weekend? Girls’ Weekend. Fun, freedom, and frolicking.

  By the time we’d landed, I was both excited and tipsy. Sera was even more motion sick. That left Christy and Allie in charge of decisions for car rental, luggage gathering, and navigating. We all showed travel cards—and everyone except me had a temperature and pulse check.

  “Would you like to volunteer to have yours recorded?” the man asked.

  I laughed. “Witch melded with a faery. My readings would be too weird. Plus, I have this.” I shook my diplomatic passport. “Wouldn’t want to anger the faeries, would we?”

  He walked away quickly, much to our relief. I had no idea what readings I’d get. I was not just witch and fae, so I’d register in potentially dangerous ways.

  Allie swept away to get a car, and Christy stared after her, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” I prompted.

  “I may like Alice if she keeps being so . . .” Christy waved her hand in the direction of my cheerful assistant who was clapping her hands at something the rental car agent said.

  I nodded. “That’s what happens. You’re going along minding your business, used to finding chirpy women irritating, and then she pulls out a gun or stocks your drawers with really useful lingerie, or runs over a draugr with her car. Then you realize you actually like her.”