Magic and Loss

terrible fight about money—”

“He was whated?” Adrian frowned. He had set aside the T-ball bat and was standing off to the side with the same awkwardly consternated look on his face that all men get when the women around them begin to weep.

“He was messed up on some kind of Kymeran drug,” I explained. “The next thing I know he’s screaming at me about money, and then things got out of hand. . . .”

“Did he hit you?” Vanessa asked, her voice suddenly hard as flint. With her bright red hair and her flashing emerald green eyes, she reminded me of one of Golgotham’s leprechauns rolling up his sleeves in anticipation of a fight.

“It got bad, but not that bad,” I replied quickly. I reflexively touched my upper arm as I spoke, but since I had changed into a long-sleeved shirt, neither Vanessa nor Adrian could see the bruises. Although I had made up my mind to walk out on Hexe, part of me was still trying to protect him.

“It would have to be drugs, wouldn’t it?” Vanessa replied, with a shake of her head. “I mean, Hexe worships the ground you walk on! I can tell it by the way he looks at you, how he talks about you to others when you’re not around.” She leaned forward and took one of my hands and gave it a squeeze. “Look, I know this looks like it’s the end, but it doesn’t have to be. Before Adrian and I got married, we had a couple of big fights; I mean, real doozies. I almost called the engagement off over one of them. But after we gave each other a little space, and cooled down, we realized even though we drive each other crazy now and again, we couldn’t live without one another. Sometimes you’ve got to get shit out in the open for a relationship to grow, even if it hurts.”

“I know that, Nessie.” I sniffled, wiping my eyes with one of the tissues Adrian handed me in an attempt to be supportive while staying out of the way. “I love Hexe so much it hurts to think about him not being in my life. But this isn’t about just about me, and what I want, anymore,” I said, placing a protective hand atop my belly. “It’s like I’m watching him fade away while being replaced by someone I don’t know. I can’t stay in that house while he’s like that. And I certainly can’t bring a baby into that kind of craziness.”

Adrian shuffled into the living room, carrying a blanket and a bed pillow in his arms. “I’m going to crash on the sofa, and you can share the bed with Nessie,” he announced, stifling a yawn. “It’s a queen—you should have plenty of room.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” I replied, taking the bedclothes from him. “I’ll sleep on the sofa—you go back to bed with your wife. I’m pregnant, not made out of glass. Besides, I wouldn’t subject Beanie’s snoring and gas to anyone unprepared for it. I think it’s actually against the Geneva Convention.”

Since both Adrian and Vanessa had to get up to go to work in the morning, neither was in the mood to argue the situation, so they retired to their bedroom and left me to make a bed for myself on the sofa. As I went to the bathroom before turning in, I could hear their voices conversing in low tones. Although I could not make out the words, I knew they were talking about what to do about me.

I stretched out as best I could on the couch and Beanie snuggled in close against me, pressing his sleek little body against my swollen belly. Even though it had been weeks since the last time Hexe had slept alongside me, I still missed the heat of his body and the sound of his breathing. The thought of never waking up to find him in bed beside me again made my heart ache as if it were being torn apart with hooks. I remembered the cold, distant look in Hexe’s eyes and the sneering, ugly tone of his voice as he spoke barbed words full of venom, and how he seemed to take a perverse delight in saying things that shredded my self-confidence and self-worth. I tried to think of the last time I was genuinely happy, and my mind went back to the Jubilee, when he won a stuffed monkey wearing a plaid tam-o’-shanter for me at the Hit the Cats booth.

As the sights and sounds of that moment flooded my memory, I experienced what felt like a small, sharp kick in my midriff, followed by a second, slightly less enthusiastic bump. Beanie snorted in disgust and moved toward the foot of the couch, clearly resentful of having his beauty rest interrupted by a rumbaing fetus. I closed my eyes and pretended that Hexe had his arms wrapped about me, and that it was his hands, not mine, clasped across my belly, feeling our wondrous, nameless child-to-be tapping on the walls of his world, as if in search of a secret passage. The tears built until they turned my vision into a watery blur and spilled from the corners of my eyes.

* * *

The sound of movement in the room started me awake. I opened my eyes and frowned at the unfamiliar bookcases and coffee table before remembering where I was. I could hear Adrian and Vanessa moving around in their galley-style kitchen as they prepared breakfast before leaving for the day. Adrian taught Art History at NYU, and Vanessa worked for a pet cremation service, both designing and throwing custom pottery urns for dearly departed four-legged friends. Beanie hopped off the sofa and went trotting off to investigate upon hearing the toaster pop. I guess he missed the old breakfast routine as much as I did.

Stifling a yawn, I shuffled into the kitchen, to find Beanie standing on his hind legs in front of Adrian, eyes focused on his strawberry toaster pastry as if it were the Holy Grail. “Good morning, li’l guy!” Adrian laughed. “Do you want a Pop-Tart?”

“Damn it, dog!” I exclaimed, with a clap of my hands. “Get out from underfoot.”

“Sorry,” Vanessa said as she poured a dollop of soymilk into her morning coffee. “We didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“That’s okay,” I replied. “Normally I’m up and out of the house even earlier than this. I guess I was more exhausted than I realized. I almost feel hungover.”

“Once Adrian and I leave for work, you’re welcome to crash in the bedroom,” Vanessa said. “Feel free to make yourself at home while we’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nessie, Adrian—you two are really great for putting me up at such short notice.”

“Are you kidding?” she grinned. “It’s going to be awesome! I’ll buy some ice cream and microwave a bag of popcorn, and we’ll stream a cheesy horror movie on Netflix—it’ll be just like college!”

“Sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

“See you after work!” Vanessa promised as she and Adrian hustled out the door and into the world beyond.

The moment the door closed behind them, I sprinted to the bathroom, barely making it in time before vomiting what was left of the previous evening’s meal. I wasn’t sure if my nausea was just another bout of morning sickness or a delayed reaction to everything I’d gone through over the last ten hours. Once I felt better, I walked back into the living room and stared at the rumpled sofa. Vanessa and Adrian lived in a newish tower block, and by New York standards their seven-hundred-square-foot apartment was fairly spacious, but after living in the boardinghouse I couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic.

I unplugged my phone from its charger and called Canterbury to tell him I was taking a couple of sick days.

“Morning sickness, eh?” the centaur chuckled. “Well, that’s to be expected. Just tell that man of yours to look after you. It’s the least he can do for getting you pregnant.”

I laughed and assured him I would do just that. I didn’t like lying to Canterbury, but I wasn’t comfortable airing my dirty laundry just yet. Nessie was one thing—she was the closest thing I had to a sister, and we had seen one another through more than one Bad Breakup in the past—but unburdening myself on my boss and business partner was something else entirely. As it was, the logistics of commuting to work while trying to find a new place to live, on my salary, whether in or out of Golgotham, was enough to make me lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling in surrender.

I started as my phone began to play the opening guitar lick to Heart’s “Magic Man.” That was Hexe’s ringtone. I stared at the caller ID for a long moment before finally hitting the accept button. He sounded hungover. “Tate—? I can’t find Beanie. I’ve called and called, but he won’t answer . . . and I found this weird note from Octavia, saying she’s moving out, like, immediately.”

“Beanie’s with me, Hexe,” I replied, trying to sound calmer than I actually felt.

“What’s he doing at Canterbury’s?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“I’m not at work.”

“Then where are you?”

“I’d rather not say.”