Page 64 of First Ritual
I pulled a face. “Nothing is happening. Seriously. I’m not going there. But the four of them wanted my help with a project.”
Her expression cleared. “Their supernatural species work. That makes sense. You would have encountered others growing up outside the coven?”
Their supernatural project was news to me. I’d roll with it. “I’ve seen and spoken with Luthers—”
“The wolf shifters? Cool.”
“They are. I’ve spotted the occasional vampire too.”
“What about demons?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not demons. Not yet. They keep to their realm on the far side of Deception Valley. In the mountain range there.”
She hugged her legs close. “I’d love to explore one day.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Hasn’t seemed like the right time. There’s Caves. And life here. I don’t know how I’d do without my coven. I don’t want to do without them.”
I banished my quipu. “I have the opposite issue. I don’t know how to do life with a coven.”
We sat in silence for a bit.
“Should we help each other out or something?” she murmured.
I laughed. “Deal.”
I extended my magic and she extended hers. We shook.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you.” Rooke helped herself to a rolled crepe on the tray. “I didn’t realize what you were doing with the strongman story at the time, but Serene couldn’t believe her ears when I rattled off the properties of Borage this morning.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So I wondered if you could tell me about Tyna the contortionist,” she asked hesitantly.
I leaned forward. “Not only can I do that, but I can promise to do my utmost to get you to the Glasshouse of Fun.”
Her blue eyes gleamed. “I want to be amongst the poisons.”
Whatever floats your boat. “Then,”–I settled against my pillows and closed my eyes–“let me tell you a little tale about Tiny Tyna, the eczema she thought was a sexually transmitted disease, and marigolds.”
At Rooke’s soft chuckle, I launched into the story. Partway through, I felt the arrival of an energy. Not one I minded, so I continued with my recount.
I opened my eyes, saying, “And that is how Tyna learned that you can have eczema on your vagina too.”
Rooke sat up, a dancing light in her gaze. “Ouch. So did you—” She squeaked at the sight of Bedwyr in the open doorway, “Mother be, Bedwyr! How long have you been there?”
I didn’t move other than to turn my head and look at the handsome magus. “Enjoy the story?”
He pursed his lips. “Not sure that enjoy is the word I’d use.”
“I did,” my cousin argued.
I was learning that stories of others’ misery tickled Rooke, which exhibited a dark streak that tickled me. I mean, she also wanted to be amongst the poisons, so she was just a delightful mystery in general.
“Marigold and borage,” she muttered to herself, then to me, “Are there more stories from the circus?”
“Are there ever,” I replied. And when I ran out, I’d make them up.