“You never know. Hey, maybe he’s his magical parent, and you can upgrade,” Stevie jokes.
“Shut up, Stevie.”
She puts her hands up in mock surrender. I groan and get up off the bar stool. “I need to log some receipts. I’ll be in the back for a few hours until opening.”
“Okay, don’t forget. Me, you, witch circle under the full moon tonight.”
I grumble about stuck up witches but nod my head.
I walk to the back office and take a seat at my desk, locking my purse in the bottom drawer as I pull up our financials. This is the part I hate most about owning a business. I have half the thought of enchanting some financial loser to do this work for me. All it takes is a few suggestions here and there and they are like putty in your hands. Most of the witches in my coven use potions. But I have some spells that make people more captivated by your whims.It’s really not a bad idea.
Things haven’t been adding up lately, and I don’t know if it’s something that I’m doing wrong or if someone is stealing from me. I feel like my head is going to explode as I enter all the expenses from the last liquor and perishable order.
My phone chimes twice, and I smile, seeing that it’s Ryan’s name. He said he would text me about dinner with his dad, and that’s what I’m fully intending to see in the text messages. But instead I see two really long voice memos.
Ryan rarely sends voice memos, but I shrug and hit play anyway, unprepared for the conversation I’m about to hear.
“Come on, Clover.” I only know one Clover. She’s in my coven. “You know how bad I’ve wanted to fuck you? You look so sweet.”
“I thought you were dating Blair?” Clover says.
“We go on dates, but I wouldn’t seriously date a girl like Blair. She’s the type of girl you fuck until you find a woman worth marrying.”
“Someone like me?”
“Yeah, someone sweet and innocent like you. Not some goth bitch wannabe.”
I’m seething, but I let the next memo start.
“She’s a huge bitch. It surprised me you were dating,” Clover’s annoying voice says.
“Like I said, babe, she’s not the one I want. I want your sweet, tight pussy. Not some washed-up slut.” I hear a shuffling of clothes and what sounds like crinkling paper, before Clover moans loudly over the recording.
Knowing the recordings will disappear, I record my screen and sit through, listening to them again.
I can feel smoke coming from my palms, and I can’t help it when I let out a loud scream, the only way I know how to let out this anger and unfurling magic inside of me. My magic is thrumming under my veins, needing release. It causes the walls to rattle, and it doesn’t take long for Stevie to come running through the door. My cheeks feel hot, but I won’t cry over the bastard.
“Blair!” Stevie shouts as she answers the door. I’m pacing the small office, kicking milk crates and unclenching my fists. “What’s wrong?”
I hand her my phone, and she looks confused for a moment before she presses play.
“Holy fuck,” she whispers, and I nod. “Blair, your irises are red. You need to pull your glamour back up.”
I let out a guttural noise from my throat as I try to focus. This always happens when I can’t control my emotions. I’m usually able to hold the glamour on my eyes without thinking about it. They change color to my emotions, and that’s not something I want people to see, supernatural or not.
“I’m going to curse him so fucking hard, Stevie. Make it so no person will ever love him again, that he will go bald, that his dick will never get hard again. I’m going to give him such bad backne that he can’t even sleep on his back anymore. I’m going to hex the living shit out of him, that every time he has to pee, a little bit comes out, and he always has piss dribble on his pants. I’m going to make him loathe the day he ever thought to use me like this.” I’m still pacing, trying to calm myself down.
“You can’t do that, Blair,” Stevie says softly.
“And why the fuck not? He deserves it.”
“I agree, he deserves it. But you are already on what strike with the council for intervening with the humans?” She shrugs, and I know she’s right. I’m just one infraction away from a tribunal with the council. If I fuck up hugely again, the council could imprison me, or worse.
I tug on the strands of my hair. “They won’t find out,” I say, trying to reason with her.
“You said the same thing about the stockbroker.”
I can’t help it when I shout again. “He has to pay, Stevie. He made me look like a simpering lovesick idiot!”
