Page 25 of Moth to a Flame

“Well, don’t you sound domestic.” Gertrude cackled. “How is my girl?”

“She’s mid-tea. What’s up?”

“I have some new translations for her. Come by soon, the both of you.”

“Do you really need me⁠—”

“No time to waste, handsome.”

She hung up.

I put the receiver back, and Lucia raised her eyebrows.

“Gertrude says she has notes for you. We should come and get them.”

She nodded. “Okay, we should head out. It’s about a thirty-minute walk.”

I blinked at her.

“What?”

“So no cellphone and no car? Are you Amish? Do you have a horse and buggy out behind the house?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I just…don’t get out much. No reason to have one.”

That sadness crept in again, and I couldn’t have that.

“We’ll take my bike.”

The sadness was immediately replaced with wariness. It was my turn to question her.

“What? I thought you liked it.”

“I can admire it and still know it’s a death machine.”

“You said the charms were good.”

“They are good—for one passenger. I’m not getting on that thing. I don’t put my life in other people’s hands.”

“Come on. One, I’m a very safe driver. Two, it’s spelled to be extra, extra safe. Three, we are driving across Pumpkin Hollow, not down the Autobahn. You’ll be fine.”

She didn’t budge.

“You can trust me.”

Those words were their own spell. Through the bond, it was like a door had cracked open. Inside was longing and the fatigue of a person who had been carrying every decision alone for a very long time and had just been offered, for one small thing, a hand. But I wasn’t sure which of us felt it more.

She stared at me, and I waited for the door to swing closed, for her to seal up the crack in her defenses. Instead, she glanced down at the tea in her hand.

“Fine.” She sounded resigned. “One trip. If I die, I’m haunting you.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Aggressively.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, Lucia.”

She scowled, but the door stayed open.