Page 55 of Two For One

“Just the niece of a very powerful man,” she shrugged.

“Everything you’ve told me about your time in Mexico was a lie? You weren’t some healer⁠—"

“I did do healing among other things,” she interrupted me. “I have always practiced my faith, that was not a lie.”

“Damn, Abuela. I think you should sell your story so they can make it into a movie or TV series because I would watch it in a heartbeat,” Mason said, breaking the tension.

I took a deep breath, my head hurting from too much truth today.

“So, as I was saying, I know enough of what happened that night from Ezra and I told him if he left you alone, I would help him,” she said fiercely. “I won’t be making the same mistake I did last time, leaving them in your life.”

My heart plummeted. It didn’t matter if that spell wasn’t for us, my abuela made sure she threw lighter fluid on us and lit the match. I got up, looking for the spell jar for my piece of mind. I dug it out of the drawer with rose petals, jasmine and hibiscus.

“Goddess, please,” I said, breaking the wax seal and emptying the contents into a bowl, grabbing the sheet of paper I had rolled and there was my damnation.

I didn’t put Kaylee’s name on the paper, I wrote my name in neat script. My heart twisted in frustration. I fucked up and cast the love spell just like they thought I had, but how the hell could I have made that mistake? I had been doing this for years and this had never happened.

“Some mistakes aren’t mistakes,” my abuela said, as if she could read my mind. “God probably wanted this. You know the gods work in mysterious ways.”

If it was meant to be, then why did it feel so wrong and now everything I felt during our time together, was because of the spell? No sane women would do the shit I had done, so it had to be. But just in case, I broke the spell praying to the goddess that the spell reversed and I didn’t have this hole in my chest.

18

Ezra

THEIR LOVE IS MY DRUG

The sound of a gunshot echoed in the abandoned hangar we were currently occupying. Saint watched Senator Cox screaming and crying as he came to terms with having his kneecap shot off. He was a blubbering mess, begging for his life, throwing out names, saying it wasn’t him who wanted to steal his wife and girlfriend, but the prime minister of Italy.

I sighed, writing the names he was spewing out as Saint blew off his other kneecap. The senator screamed like the little bitch he was as he called out more names like the man who ran Easter Town and St. Patrick’s. He was making accusations then this was a big deal and if it were true, then the towns had a lot of corruption. The Mayor would not be pleased.

I grew bored and antsy as Saint had his fun. O was out somewhere leaving me to deal with our boss but all I wanted to do was check on Xiomara to make sure she was home safe.

O was done with her, but I wasn’t. Xiomara wasn’t the type of person to do this and if she had cast a spell on us, then it wasn’t done maliciously. O said we couldn’t trust our feelings around her if she had fabricated them, but from what I had read, spells don’t actually make you fall in love they just facilitated feelings that might be there.

I ran my hand through my hair, wishing I could see her again to talk things through, and more importantly, I really fucking missed her. We left her at a horrible time and while I see that it was a dick move, I still wanted to go comfort her. O thought these feelings were fake, but whatever she had cast had just pushed us in the right direction.

I loved Xiomara and no one was going to tell me differently. O and Xiomara were mine.

“Fuck you, asshole.” Another gunshot, this time straight through his forehead.

Saint's wife Claudia held the gun, breathing heavily as she watched the man who had kidnapped her die.

Good riddance.

She handed the gun over to Saint, walking out of the room past me, smiling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. I was glad she had gotten her revenge. They deserved it.

“Ezra, get this mess cleaned up and send his body to Halloween town,” Saint said, wiping his hands with his handkerchief.

I nodded, pulling out my phone to text the clean-up crew and send a message to King.

“Where is O?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette from a gold case, offering me one.

It had been years since I had smoked, but it might take the edge off.

I shrugged, signing. He said he had something to do.

He sighed, lighting his cigarette and then mine. The first hit of nicotine into my lungs felt biblical. Damn, I missed these cancer sticks.