I snorted. “Think much of yourself, sparky?”
A protective hand dropped instinctively toward Serena’s belly, and if it weren’t for that gesture, my idiotic brother might not have picked up on the fact that the extra weight she was carrying had nothing whatsoever to do with drowning her sorrows in too many pints of ice cream.
“Wait. Are you? Is that—?” Jett sputtered, and even though this wasn’t a laughing matter, the copious amount of alcohol I’d consumed felt differently. His flabbergasted expression took on an aspect of high comedy and I felt a case of the giggles threatening.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He grabbed Serena by the arm, not hard enough to hurt, just to get her attention. He’d have done better to poke a sleeping bear. Less dangerous than a pregnant witch.
Serena launched off the barstool like it was made out of springs and poked Jett in the chest so hard he took two steps backward. Magical energy prickled over my skin and suddenly, I wasn't quite as drunk anymore and the case of the giggles was gone.
“Exactly when was I supposed to tell you? When you used me for your own nefarious purposes? Or maybe when you got sent to...” Serena realized she was in public and caught the word Faelands before it fell off her tongue. “...sent away.”
She poked him again, and her shrill tone caught some attention. “Or maybe when you came back weeks ago and didn’t bother to tell me. Now you’re here looking at me like I’m the one hiding things from you? Don’t come around again. I have nothing more to say to you.” With a final poke, Serena turned back to the bar.
“I’ve got to get out of here. Now.” She grabbed her purse, and when she turned back around, Jett was gone. “Or maybe not.” Then Serena burst into tears. “I thought he’d put up more of a fight than that,” she wailed, her voice going up into a squeak at the end.
“Men suck.” It was the best advice I had at the time.
Walking Serena home sobered me up a little more, though clearly not enough. I helped her form a complex series of wards around the house after we made sure the place was empty. That’s a lie, I contributed next to nothing to the process before wobbling off toward home.
Chapter Nine
IT’S NOT BREAKING AND entering if you have a key, right?
Too many strawberry daiquiris had loaned me a dose of liquid courage, and when I passed by Kin’s street on the way home from Serena’s, I impulsively decided to gather the rest of my belongings and hammer the final nail into the coffin of our relationship.
I slid through Kin’s front door under the cover of a darkness spell that killed my ability to declare the act of trespassing a mere technicality. Witchlight blooming in my palm, I made my way to the bedroom to see if her things had taken the place of mine. Did she have a drawer already? Was her toothbrush in the cup on the edge of the sink? Would it hurt more or less to see it there?
Stupid idea, I knew, and I marched into the bedroom anyway.
One suitcase belched its contents over the rumpled bed, two more cluttered the doorway to the walk-in closet. Both ones I recognized from the week in a hotel I’d managed to spend on Kin’s tour before he met Miss Belly Ring.
Bubble-headed bimbo. True love’s kiss should mean something.
The emotional distance between devastated and totally pissed off is small enough to swing back and forth between the two in a matter of seconds. My heart bounced between my stomach and my throat like a demented rubber ball, and I couldn’t get a handle on whether to cry or scream. Or both.
By any commonly-accepted description, a relationship goes through an orderly set of stages that starts with a meeting and spends months, maybe years leading to a bonded relationship. Kin and I rocketed right past all the preliminary stuff when I ended up releasing him from a curse by sharing a kiss that turned out to be magical and of the true love variety. I would never tell him this, but going from relative strangers to a fated match took some of the fun out of our courtship. Then again, maybe he felt the same, and that’s what had led to this new relationship.
Maybe it wasn’t at all odd that he’d fallen out of love with me just as quickly as he’d fallen in.
No. That’s insane. You don’t tell someone you love them one day and then dump them the next.
And what made me think I was so special that I couldn’t get dumped anyway? The pendulum of wacky in my head swung back to the other side, and my slightly inebriated state only increased its speed.
I pulled one of Kin’s shirts out of the suitcase and buried my face in it, breathed in his unique scent. A hint of wood smoke over a sharp, almost salty tang, and lime. He’d been using the aftershave I made for him out of essential oils and a touch of magic to keep his face from chafing.
The scent twisted my guts into knots and my tears darkened the cotton to midnight blue. How could it be over? Without warning. Without anything. Just over.
Covering my face with both hands, I pressed my palms to over my eyes and wondered how I could feel so empty and yet so full of pain. This was a mistake, and I needed to get out of there fast.
When I tossed the tee back into the case, a flash of white caught my eye and drew my hand to pull back the pile of items far enough to reveal a playing card tucked into the side of the suitcase. Not just any card, either. The queen of hearts, and it had an all-too-familiar logo emblazoned across the front.
Hot tears turned cold along with my blood. Diana Diamond. What on earth was this doing here?
Well, duh, Lexi, I told myself. Kin must have gone to her for help with finding someone else.
The sound of my world crashing down around me was surprisingly quiet. A soft noise like a sob riding a slow breeze. A few seconds stretched into a minute, and then I reached for the card intending to tear it into confetti.
My fingertips closed around the queen of hearts, mist rose up to surround me in cloudy gray tinged with pink as witch met Goddess to pull me into a vision unlike any I’d ever experienced before—and I’ve Seen a few things since Awakening as a witch, so that’s saying something.
This time, I was a passenger in someone else’s memory rather than a silent, unseen, shimmering observer. My arms were sheathed in black velvet narrowed to a point at the knuckles of my middle fingers, and I could actually feel the form-fitting leather pants wrinkle against the backs of my knees as I crouched behind a row of shrubs.
A complicated up-do piled too tightly on top of my head held the skin near the corners of my eyes so taught I couldn’t have smiled if I tried. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom who would need to sport a black outfit complete with floor-length cape in the middle of what felt like summer.
Before I had a chance to ponder the thought any further, the body I was hitchhiking inside turned her head to focus on a couple walking toward one another, and when I saw the garden gnomes, I realized our stiletto boots were grinding my next door neighbor, Mrs. Chatterly’s, petunias into mulch.
My heart leaped into my throat while no-name with the trashy outfit clenched her fists and held her breath as the couple I now recognized as myself and Kin locked eyes for the very first time.
It’s incredibly unnerving—and in this case, overwhelmingly painful—to watch yourself doing something you’ve already experienced, and even more so when the memory is a cherished, frequently-visited one.
Glowing, pink heart symbols blossomed in the air above our heads, and even though I already knew we had been destined for one another, it was a relief to have confirmation of the fact. If I’d been looking at two strangers, I’d have pulled out the Bow of Destiny and pierced both their hearts right then and there.
The sad part was, Kin and I wouldn’t be in this mess if, during the moment I was reliving from six months prior, the bow had been in my father’s hands rather than encased in a magical repository waiting for me to find and wield it.
Had we both been pierced by one of Cupid’s—now my—arrows before experiencing true love’s kiss, our bond would have been unbreakable. Unfortunately, I can’t train the bow
’s sight on myself, and wouldn’t have seen the symbols if I’d had it in my possession at the time, anyway.
My right hand reached beneath the cloak and reappeared holding a deck of cards. With all the dexterity of a magician, the hand flipped through the stack to choose a particular card. She held it aloft, index finger pressing into one corner the way you clutch a flat rock you’re about to fling across the surface of a calm lake.
My eyes narrowed and homed in on the me from the past, and a feeling of loathing toward myself oozed from my host’s very core. Loathing that quickly gave way to disciplined patience and a dark void as I watched myself hurry into the house leaving Kin staring after me with stars in his eyes. Despite the agony of watching the tender moment play out, I was deeply grateful for whatever magic had brought me to this place. Whether Kin loved me anymore or not, his feelings at that moment had been written all over his face.
The scene faded to black, and when I was able to see again, I was standing in the crowd at a familiar nightclub; Driven, the place where Kin had been discovered by the rock band he’d left town to join. It was also the place where my ex had played the night Jett’s love spell almost got him killed. My host’s gaze traveled from Kin, who was just about to get attacked by a mob of lusty women, and to where I stood by the edge of the stage.
I remembered that exact moment, trying to decide whether Kin deserved my help or not; whether he had been the one to bespell his guitar so that any woman listening to him play became instantly infatuated with the man strumming the strings. But now, trapped inside a body that wasn’t mine, experiencing someone else’s emotions, all I felt was my companion’s wrath as she watched me come to my senses and realize I loved Kin and would do anything to keep him safe.
I felt her anger and frustration as vividly as if it were my own. When past Lexi hauled past Kin out the back door of the club and toward our destiny, she couldn’t swallow the fury, and I felt it bubble into the back of her throat like bile.
The vision swirled again; we stood outside my home the very next night, and when a beam of white light burst through the Balefire house roof, I knew I’d just witnessed the effect of my true love’s kiss with Kin.
A wave of vile loathing swept through the mind and body in which I rode, washing everything in its path with the kind of darkness that echoed with cries of the forlorn. The depth of pure hatred could have swallowed my house and still had room for more.
Scene after scene flickered by, each one more bittersweet than the last. Whoever I was traveling with hated me with a fiery passion, and wanted me to feel as much pain as possible. To say I felt violated is an understatement. Someone had been following Kin and me; watching us and planning to launch an attack. By the time the last portion began, I had already figured out what the ending would be.
Kin, alone on tour, walking into a convenience store, fingers flying over his screen with the last text he sent me before radio silence; the one I received after picking up sandwiches at Deli Delight.
Phone tag. You’re it...
He paid for his purchases and stepped through the door with a smile on his face. My glance involuntarily flicked to a woman juggling two shopping bags and attempting to wrestle her keys from inside a large leather purse sliding off one shoulder. Her blond hair hung in a waterfall of curls, sheathing her face from my view, but the undulating black heart above her head didn’t escape my attention. A greasy smear, the exact opposite of glowing pink.
My host's hand moved against my will, whipping out a playing card from beneath the billowing robe to fling it at Kin’s heart like a ninja’s kunai.
When it hit, he stopped dead in his tracks, stiffened for the length of a breath and I felt my lips curl up into a delicious smile as I watched him walk toward the blond woman and relieve her of her bags. A few moments into their hushed conversation, Kin’s phone rang and he bent his head forward enough for me to get a clear view of the face under all that blond hair. It was Rachel, the bimbo from Walgreens, and Kin had just sent my return call to voicemail.
A wicked, depraved laugh echoed in my head, and when she turned to take her leave, and I caught my host’s reflection in the convenience store window, I finally got to see who was responsible for Kin’s current condition. It came as no surprise when all I could do was mimic the smile on Diana Diamond’s smug face.
When the vision ended, I took a good long look at it before I tucked the card into my pocket where its cold energy seeped into my thigh. The queen was more than Diana’s calling card, it was her weapon. A weapon that was used on Kin rather than by him.
I know it was a flimsy hope to cling to, but it was the only one I had. If Kin were a victim of Diana’s will, then I would find a way to break her curse and set him free so he could come back to me.
As if my thoughts had conjured the man himself, I heard the front door open and the bright sounds of Rachel’s laughter punctuated by his deeper tones. She might be an innocent in all this, but I had trouble feeling sorry for the man-stealer. Women are ruthless like that sometimes.
Dousing my witchlight, I tried to come up with a plan to escape unnoticed.
Invisibility spell? Hide under the bed until morning? What if there were dust bunnies under there? Nope. I’ve had an irrational fear of them ever since I was seven and Terra enchanted the ones in my room to get me to clean up. I still have nightmares about balls of fur with pointy teeth.
Still, there were worse things to worry about. I could not be in this room when they came upstairs. My heart could not survive seeing them together here. On the bed with the duvet cover I’d picked out.
This was one of those times when I cursed the gaps in my education. Witches at my power level knew how to slip through space with ease, and I couldn’t even blame Salem for not teaching me how, since I’d spent considerable effort in ducking out of lessons.
Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here. The mantra echoed to the beat of my racing heart while I listened for the sound of steps on the stairs. I had never wanted anything more than I wanted to be anywhere but here.
I closed my eyes to concentrate on slowing my breathing before I passed out from anxiety.
Anywhere but here.
Nothing signaled the change; not a single sensation of motion or displacement until the trill of a night bird pulled me to blinking awareness. In the midst of desperation, I’d found the key to shifting places and I recognized the spot where I’d landed. My grandmother’s stoned body once graced this place, and I felt like I understood a little better how she’d felt during that time.
Heavy and unable to move forward. Weighted to the ground with despair.
Chapter Ten
“SHE’S ALIVE.” SALEM’S voice rocketed into my skull like a bag of hammers. Jackhammers that is. My hands flew to my head in an attempt to keep it attached to my body, though at this point, cutting it off entirely might be preferable. If only to stop the pain. The sudden motion screamed through my back and shoulders.
“What happened? Was it an accident? How bad is it?” Voice slurring, memories blurred. I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to those questions.
“Unless you accidentally poured half the alcohol in the city down your throat, it was intentional.”
Oh. A hangover. The mother of all hangovers, apparently.
I cracked open one grit-encrusted eye, just the tiniest slit and groaned.
“Where am I?” Not in my nice soft bed, that much was certain. Something sharp bit into my left hip, and I smelled dust. For the love of all that is good and holy, don’t let me sneeze, I prayed to any deity that might be listening. Was there a patron saint of the stupidly inebriated? Death by hangover might prove a real possibility if I did.
“Well, you’re under the sofa. Half under, actually.” I heard the distinct sound of my cell phone camera going off. “It’s going to be your new wallpaper.”
“You’re dead. If I survive this, I'm killing you.”
“Can you get out on your own or do I need to help you? I have some
of Terra’s hangover juice out here. She says it won’t get all of it, but it should bring you down from a ten on the zombie scale to a solid three.”
“I’ve got her.” Vaeta’s voice carried great sympathy along with hints of amusement. Why do people find hangovers funny?
“Go away and let me die in peace.”
A jet of warm air slid under me, tickling as it went and lifting my body ever so slightly off the hard floor. In seconds, I’d been deposited on the sofa instead of under it, and Salem was pouring Terra’s hangover knockout cure down my throat. It burned a path to my gut and soothed like a warm blanket. I felt a little bit like Frankenstein’s monster, all my pieces getting stitched back together.
“Thanks.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, opened my eyes all the way, and sighed with relief when the lids didn’t make scratching sounds in my head. If I had known the entire household was clustered in the doorway, I might have just rolled into the fetal position and stayed under the couch. Salem and Vaeta witnessing my humiliation was bad enough.
“I’ll just be in the shower for an hour if anyone needs me.” I could stay in there until I turned into a prune thanks to the combination of Evian’s water and Soleil’s fire magic. Faerie living. Gotta love it.
“You’ll eat first,” Terra put on her best mother hen impression.
“And you’ll tell us what brought on this stunning display of self-abuse,” Gran insisted. There would be no slinking upstairs to plumb the depths of my shame in private.
“My memory is a little hazy.” A small fib, because Terra’s sure-fire hangover cure-all contained a clarity charm and she darned well knew it.
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