“Don’t fuck with me.”
“Right. Yes, I’ve done this before. Not to this extent, because practice makes perfect and all, but…”
“Those rocks aren’t part of some shitty OCD decoration scheme?”
“Not really, no. Though thanks for pointing out my poor taste in decorating,” I said sarcastically.
“I haven’t heard or seen this before because…” He motioned at the shimmering purple air.
“I was better at keeping it under wraps, yes. I ran out of the…” I hesitated. “Hell, I’m just going to say it. Spells. I ran out of the spells. I only had two, and I needed three.”
“I ain’t never seen a witch in that cemetery light shit on fire without touching it, not to mention throwing shit around like that,” he said in a strangely accusatory voice. He swore a lot in general, but when his brain was bending, he apparently pushed it to the next level.
“Say, listen, why don’t we take this conversation indoors? People like you aren’t supposed to know about people like me. It could get me in trouble and you dead.”
As though I’d flicked a switch, Mikey bristled andstraightened out, turning his meaty shoulders toward me. His hands flexed and then curled into fists at his sides. All hint ofI’m freaking outleft his eyes and demeanor.
“I’d like to see them try,” he growled.
We’d definitely make a helluva team. And Darius wondered why I didn’t want to move…
“Well, I wouldn’t. I’d have to kill them all, and then we’d both have to move.”
“Open your front door. I’m coming to you. I don’t want you to burn my house down like you did yours.”
“That wasn’t me, and you know it.”
He was shaking his head as he turned. I distinctly heard, “Looney tunes,” before he disappeared around the edge of my house. I heard his back door slam shut.
If only I’d heard it open.
Weak and shaky, I moved into my gloriously air-conditioned house. I heard the knock at the door, two fast raps, and ignored it. I needed to put something on that wasn’t drenched in sweat. A moment later, I heard another two raps, followed by the handle jiggling. I assumed my door was opened directly afterward.
“You gonna let me in, or what?” Mikey called through my house.
“Clearly you just let yourself in,” I yelled back, peeling off my leather pants. That material was the absolute pits in the summer weather of Louisiana, but it didprevent me from buying a bunch of new clothes. “Don’t let the air conditioning out.”
“Girl, you need a lesson in hosting,” I heard him mutter.
I threw on some yoga pants and a T-shirt before heading out to find Mikey standing against the closed front door. He was looking around the new digs with a straight face.
“So?” I asked, gesturing at the living room. “You like?”
“Fancy,” he said. He’d seen the place when it was a half-burned ruin, and he was the reason the second half hadn’t also gone up in flames. Since then, we’d gone back to normal, which meant he did his thing, I did my thing, and our paths didn’t often cross. “Didn’t peg you for the type that bought that kind of stuff.” He jerked his head toward the closest oil painting on the wall.
“Surely you must’ve seen the outrageously gorgeous woman who was hanging around after the remodel was done.” I paused by the archway to the kitchen, waiting for his answer.
“Yeah, I saw her.”
I’d bet. Every man in the neighborhood had probably noticed her, even though she hadn’t strayed far from my house.
“She did all this.” I gave a sweep of my hand.
“And you let her have free rein.”
“Obviously. What do I know about decorating?”
He huffed out a laugh as he filled half of the entrance to the kitchen. “About as much as me, I reckon.”
