Cold and Slimy Magic
I’ve never dreaded closing time as much as I am today. Anxiety gnaws at my stomach, intensifying when I look at the clock and see it’s 5:58. Just about time to lock up.
“Are you okay?” Nadine asks me, knowing something is wrong even if I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet.
I’m not sure what time she got back to the cottage last night, or what she and Jax were doing out so late. Judging from how bubbly she’s been all day, I think they had a good evening.
I’m happy she’s happy—both for her and for me. Her peaceful presence has tempered my nerves for most of the day and made work bearable.
But right now, Nadine’s worried about me, and her comforting magic has vanished.
“Rowan and I are going to break the bond as soon as we close the shop,” I admit.
She stares at me, eyes wide. “Right now?”
Choking back my fear, I nod.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“You should probably go home and keep my parents company. We’re due for an intense storm this evening.”
She cocks her head to the side, suspicious. “Why?”
“Ansel has to draw my magic. It’s not a pretty process.”
We’ve talked about it before, but her face goes white. To most pixies, the idea of magic draws and dust pendants is horrifying. I guess I’m desensitized now, because it’s become an annoying chore—like appearing for jury duty or renewing your driver’s license.
“I don’t know, Kit…” she says.
“It’ll be all right. I’ve done it before.”
And if I keep my present company, I’ll probably do it again.
“How did you get tangled up with so many mages?”
I laugh. “I have no idea.”
“I take it you won’t be home for dinner?”
“Not tonight.” I walk over to the door, flip the sign, and set the lock.
It’s time.
“I’ll let your parents know you’ll be late,” Nadine says. “Be careful, all right?”
“I will be.” I head toward the back. “See you tonight.”
I find Rowan upstairs. He’s going through our inventory with a clipboard and a frown. We haven’t talked much today.
We’re both so anxious about breaking the mate bond we barely even celebrated his first successful, premeditated shift to and from his owl state. He called last night when he arrived at Marshall’s, telling me the good news.
It doesn’t surprise me that he worked it out after just a couple of accidental shifts. Now he just needs to figure out what to do with his clothes.
Startled from his thoughts, Rowan turns when he notices me. “Is it time?”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
He sets the clipboard on top of a shelf. “I haven’t.”
