Magic and Loss

sleepwalker who has awakened to find himself standing on a precipice. The noose about the Maladanti’s neck went slack, dropping him onto the floor. Gaza staggered to his feet, massaging his bruised trachea.

“I’d get out of here if I was you, buddy,” I told the dazed goon, who promptly dashed out the swinging doors, but not before casting a scalding parting glance in Hexe’s direction. Normally, I would have put a call in to the PTU, but fear of Boss Marz making good on his threat against our friends and families kept me from doing so.

A couple of seconds later Lafo snapped back to life, freed from the Maladanti’s spell. The first thing out of the restaurateur’s mouth was a stream of Kymeran which, even to my ignorant ears, was clearly profanity.

“Heavens and hells!” Lafo bellowed angrily, once he finally switched over to English. “That was the most horrible feeling I’ve experienced in my life—being completely conscious of what was going on around me, but utterly unable to move or speak! That chuffer was going to take my magic!” He threw his arms around Hexe, yanking him into a brotherly embrace. “Praise Arum you showed up when you did, Serenity!”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt, but really, I just did what anyone else would have done in the same situation,” Hexe said humbly.

“That’s manticore bollocks and you know it!” Lafo replied. “Most Golgothamites are scared shitless of the Maladanti and won’t lift a hand against them. I can never thank you two enough!” He reached out and grabbed me with a long, heavily tattooed arm, dragging me into his impromptu group hug. “You guys are awesome! You’re both eating and drinking on the house for the rest of the year!” Once he let us go, Lafo finally seemed to notice the silver gauntlet covering Hexe’s hand for the first time. “Hey, what’s with the shiny glove?”

“It’s a . . . family relic,” Hexe replied vaguely.

“Is that how you were able to field Gaza’s fireball? I’ve never seen anyone actually catch hellfire before, much less snuff it out like that!”

Just then a nymph with a pencil tucked in her laurel wreath crown barged into the kitchen. “Lafo! Where’s that order for the four-top at table twelve? Two more minutes and I’ll have to comp them their drinks!”

Lafo snatched up his discarded apron and put it back on. “Excuse me, folks—I’ve still got a restaurant to run!” He returned his attention to the collection of bottomless pots still bubbling on the stove. “Go make yourself comfortable in the dining room. If there’s anything in particular you’d like that’s not on the menu, tell your server and I’ll whip it up special!”

* * *

Despite the rocky start, it turned out to be a wonderful evening, with good food and excellent company. And even though we didn’t need to tell Lafo I was pregnant to get a free meal, we went ahead and told him anyway.

Upon hearing the news, he grinned and belted out yet another one of his “awesomes” and returned momentarily with a towering meringue concoction atop a devil’s food cake that, when doused in absinthe and set alight, burned an eerily beautiful blue. As we watched, the outline of a young man took form within the sapphire- colored flames, then just as quickly disappeared.

“The dessert never lies!” Lafo crowed. “Congratulations! It’s a boy!”

I looked across the table at Hexe, who had the same loopy grin on his face as when I told him I was pregnant. He reached across the table and took my hand in his own, the silver mail of the magic gauntlet shimmering like the scales of a bejeweled fish. I had never felt more loved and in love than I did at that moment. And yet, despite my happiness, the image of Hexe strangling Gaza by proxy continued to nag at the back of my mind.

Chapter 15

For the next couple of weeks Hexe dedicated himself to making up for lost time, cranking out potions and charms for all his regular clients who relied on him, as well as working hard to bring in new ones. For the first time in months it seemed as if we were finally starting to dig our way out of the financial hole we had found ourselves in. With both of us bringing in money on a regular basis, I was able to start setting aside part of my pay for the baby and other maternity-related expenses in a decorative cookie tin I kept on the dresser.

One evening, as I returned home from work, I spotted a woman standing on the sidewalk outside the boardinghouse, frowning at a piece of paper she held in her hand. She had red-gold shoulder-length hair that shone like a burnished shield. As I headed up the front steps, she stepped forward, casting her brilliant green eyes about nervously. She looked to be slightly older than myself and was easily one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen outside of a movie theater, although the Aeropostale dress she was wearing was way too young for her.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” she asked. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” I replied, trying to hide my bemusement at being addressed as “ma’am” by someone at least four years older than myself. Although I was three months pregnant, I wasn’t in that big a hurry to be mistaken for someone’s mom.

“Does someone called Hexy live here?” she asked anxiously, gesturing to the boardinghouse.

“Why, yes, Hex lives here,” I answered politely. “He’s my boyfriend. Are you looking to become a client?”

“I dunno,” the beautiful redhead said. “I guess so. This guy with a green mustache in Witches Alley said he’s the person I needed to talk to if I wanted to get a curse lifted. All I know is that I’m in a lot of trouble and I’m scared.”

Her lower lip suddenly began to quiver and she started to cry. And not the way a grown woman breaks down, either, by choking back tears and trying to keep it together—she was just straight-up boohooing. Maybe it was my hormones kicking in, but I felt instantly protective of her. I put my arm around her shoulders, trying my best to comfort her as I escorted her up the front stairs and into the house.

“Don’t worry; it’s going to be okay,” I said soothingly. “By the way—what’s your name?”

“Ashley,” the redhead snuffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Hello, Ashley. My name’s Tate, and I can tell you that you’ve come to the right place. Hexe is one of the best lifters in all of Golgotham. And I’m not saying that simply because he’s my boyfriend,” I assured her as I unlocked the front door.

Once we were inside, I ushered her into the front parlor and had her take a seat while I went in search of Hexe. He was in the kitchen, dressed in an apron and a half-mask respirator, decanting a freshly brewed potion into a row of smaller bottles.

“Honey—you’ve got a new client! I found her on the front steps, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door. Her name’s Ashley and she thinks she’s been cursed.”

“Good! I haven’t had a chance to do any real spell-lifting yet. I’m curious to find out just what the gauntlet can do,” he exclaimed as he stripped off the respirator. “Welcome to my home.” Hexe smiled as he entered the room. “Tate informs me that you are in need of my services, Ms. Ashley. What exactly is the problem?”

“Ashley’s my first name,” she said with a nervous giggle. “My last name is Lattimer.”

“I see. How may I be of assistance, Ms. Lattimer—or is it Mrs.?”

Again with the nervous giggle. “Mrs. Lattimer’s my mom.” Ashley’s eyes suddenly widened upon catching sight of Scratch as he emerged, yawning, from under the skirt of the couch and hopped onto the back of one of the chairs. “Hello, kitty cat!” she said with a laugh, reaching out to stroke the familiar’s sleek skull. “What happened to your hair?”

Scratch recoiled from her touch, fanning out his batlike wings in warning. “Are you drunk or are you just stupid?”

Ashley’s eyes widened even further. “You can talk—and you’ve got wings!” she exclaimed in delight. “That is so cool!”

“Glad you approve,” Scratch grunted, his ego mollified by her display of awe.

“Do you mind? I have business to conduct,” Hexe scolded, shooing the familiar off the furniture. “Where were we? Ah, yes! Tate informed me that you believe you have been cursed. May I ask the nature of the infliction,