“I, as we are both well aware, am destined to remain single forever and die at my desk with only a stapler for company,” she said. “Youare not.”
“Ugh,” Fiona said as they climbed the stairs. “Why can’t she already know everything about me? Then we could skip from the awkward get-to-know-you part and go right to the cuddle-on-the-couch-while-we-watch-Buffypart.”
“You’ll make it toBuffybinges eventually,” Katherine said, stepping onto the wards at the top of the stairs and waiting as the door reappeared in front of them. “But before that, you have to talk. Say words to each other. Bond. Etcetera.”
“Fine, fine, she of infinite wisdom. I will talk to her. Like an adult.”
“There you go.” Katherine pulled the door open, clapping Fiona on the back as they headed back into the lobby.
“Hey.” Tess stood behind the bar, drying off glasses, while Fiona waited stock still in front of her, despite the brief moment of bravado in the stairwell. Tess raised an eyebrow in question, then turned to Katherine. “How’d it go down there?”
“Fine,” Katherine said. “He didn’t wake up, which was good. I’ve had enough of listening to him talk for the day.”
“I’ve met Joe like, twice, and I’ve heard enough of him talking for a lifetime.” Tess did an exaggerated shudder. “He’s way more into cryptocurrency than a witch should be.”
Katherine laughed, then heard a high-pitched sound halfway between a giggle and a scream come out of Fiona. Katherine held in a grin.
“Hey, Tess,” Katherine said. “Were you reading a book on old magic last week?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tess replied, her eyes lighting up. “I’m fascinated by it. I mean, I know it’s outdated and a lot of people think it’s useless since we have runes now, but that doesn’t mean it’s a worthless field. People don’t like magic that takes actual work.”
“Fiona is an expert on old magic,” Katherine said. “She’s been studying it since she was a kid. She even works on her own spells.”
“No shit, really?”
Fiona flushed red as Tess’ attention focused on her. “Well, not an expert. Or I guess, kind of an expert. Comparatively. The progeny of experts. My parents are all in on old magic, even with the risks. They’re kind of free thinkers, so they have all these thoughts on rune magic and how we should try to practice magical veganism…”
Katherine smiled as she listened to the two of them talk, their conversation free-flowing and easy. She leaned on the bar, relaxing for a few more moments until she felt the light tap of a summoning spell on her shoulder. She took a moment to steel herself, then excused herself and ducked out.
Sylvia was waiting for her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Katherine walked down the hall of Sunspot, then paused outside the heavy wooden door of Sylvia’s office. The wards here reeked, the magic warning both ordinaries and witches to stay away. Among the coven, it was described as overkill, a paranoid remnant of Sylvia’s past, but Katherine knew the truth. There was plenty in the present that Sylvia had reason to hide.
She knocked twice, the wards on the wood glowing as they recognized her. The door popped open slightly—a setting Sylvia had built for her, a sign of the trust between them. Katherine appreciated it, even if that trust came with the responsibility of keeping a secret she didn’t want to know.
A secret she was apparently going to have to deal with right now. Katherine could make out the sound of two voices filtering from inside—Sylvia’s calm, lilting tones, and a gruff male voice that she didn’t recognize. The haze of the wards still in place kept her from hearing what they were saying, but she didn’t need to—she could guess what was going on.
The door swung open the rest of the way, which Katherine knew was an invitation to enter. She slid in, pushing the door shut behind her.
Sylvia Page was sitting in the plush office chair she and Katherine had thrifted together a few years earlier, her hands resting on the mahogany surface of her desk. Sitting across from her was an ordinary with too much facial hair, slumped in the chair that Katherine usually satin. The matching one to Sylvia’s, which Katherine had said was too fancy for her but which Sylvia had insisted on buying anyway. Katherine could smell cigarettes wafting off the ordinary. If the stench got into the fabric, she’d be furious.
Sylvia smiled widely at Katherine, her green eyes glinting as much as her white teeth. Her long blond waves ran free down her back, resting perfectly against one of her many cashmere cardigans. She’d been letting her hair go artfully gray since she hit fifty last January, the small streaks of silver dotting her temples so perfectly spaced that they looked like they had been placed there on purpose.
Katherine self-consciously ran a hand through her own brown hair, which was getting stringy. When had she last washed it? Three—no, four—days ago. That, plus the wrinkled cropped tee she’d thrown on that morning, did not speak of wealth, class, or even basic personal hygiene. She had no idea how Sylvia managed all of it—Katherine’s desire to put any effort into her appearance was the first thing to go when coven duties got stressful, but Sylvia never let hers slip. She never let anything slip.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sylvia said to Katherine. The ordinary introduced himself, but Katherine didn’t hear him over the swishing sound of his Ye Olde Prospector mustache bouncing as he spoke.
“He needs a pain-management spell,” Sylvia said. “Would you care to help me?” She turned to Mustache. “In magic and in life, it never hurts to have a few extra hands.”
Mustache stared at her, clearly smitten. Sylvia had that effect on people. Even thirteen years in, Katherine still sometimes felt overwhelmed when Sylvia hit her with her full attention. The force of it shot her right back to her sixteen-year-old self, in awe of the goddess who had snapped her up and showed her the way when she’d thought all was lost.
“Of course.” Katherine dragged over the spare chair from the corner, the one usually reserved for guests—nowhere near as comfortable as her chair, she thought bitterly.
“My daughter messed up her knee pretty bad,” Mustache explained. “She’s a gymnast. Been doing it since she could walk. Always flippingeverywhere, until one day, boom. Takes a bad fall and suddenly she’s twelve years old scheduling surgery for a torn ACL. She’s miserable since the ex-wife won’t let her do gymnastics anymore, and then on top of that, she’s in pain every time she walks. The doc prescribed meds, but I’ve seen firsthand how much those can fuck up your life. I mentioned to a friend how desperately I wanted to help her and he suggested I come here.”
Katherine shifted in her seat, feeling guilty for her earlier assessment of… she really should remember his name.Judgmentalwas her default state, but Mustache had gotten the short end of the stick thanks to her anxiety over what Sylvia was doing. Still, as uncomfortable as she felt with the legality and risk of Sylvia’s actions, she couldn’t deny that Sylvia helped people.
