Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau 2)

Landing on Clay’s head, she quivered her antennae. “So, tomorrow is a maybe?”

“We’ll see.” I pointed to the counter, and she flitted down to ditch her weapon. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” She cast one last, longing glance at the sword. “I’m ready.”

“Asa?” I noticed he hadn’t touched the other bowl of cereal. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes.” His gaze touched on my lips. “But I can wait.”

The excuse might have fooled Colby, who wrinkled her nose in solidarity, but I knew better. I could put a spoonful of it in my mouth, and he would devour it. And I…wouldn’t mind watching the show.

This fascination thing was downright bizarre. I had all these weird food-based impulses around Asa that would have earned a hard no if anyone else tried it with me. I did not eat after people. Or drink after people. But I—from a purely symbolic point—couldn’t put enough of him in my mouth.

The thing about black witches was they didn’t suffer romantic inclinations. They married, yeah, to form alliances. Aside from deflowering, sure, they had sex. Mostly to procreate. Or to enhance a spell. Sex magic was a thing, and it was gross. Feed me beating hearts over swapping bodily fluids with some rando guy any day of the week.

Mom and Dad had loved each other, which made them an odder couple than just their opposing magical practices. I don’t recall how my parents behaved with each other, or me. The director had cost me those comforting scraps, robbed me of those hazy childhood recollections.

Thanks to Meg, I knew Mom had been obsessed with Dad from the first moment she saw him. Mom had been a bit of a rebel in her circles, I knew that from Meg too, but no one had expected her to fall for the baddest bad boy on the market.

Certainly not the director, who had a black witch from a nice family all lined up for Dad to marry.

Niceas in evil, vile, and wicked, but you know. All the qualities the director prized above all others.

The arranged marriage angle made me wonder if Stavros had a nice daemon bride lined up for Asa.

On the heels of that unpleasant thought, I wondered if my bracelet could double as a garrot.

“They’re doing it again,” Colby murmured out of the side of her mouth.

“Can you two please stop pretending you’re alone?” Clay threw in with Colby. “We need to get to work.”

“They spend so much time staring at each other.” Colby twitched her wings. “Why is that?”

Scooping her up, he set her on his shoulder, and they started toward the door, leaving us to follow.

“You know how you go to the grocery store,” he said, “and you see cookies in the bakery?”

“Yeah.”

“They look delicious, right? You want to buy them based on looks alone.” He held up a finger. “But there is no way they taste as good as they look. They never do. Homemade is better. Always. Then you’ll know what’s in the dough.” He glanced at her. “See what I mean?”

“Rue thinks Asa looks good, but she’s not sure he tastes good?”

A laugh spluttered out of me, and Asa plucked at one golden arrow earring while mashing his lips together.

“Uh, no. That analogy got away from me.” He tried again. “How about this? Asa is like a cookie. Rue has to decide if she likes his ingredients before she…” Giving up, he slashed a hand through the air. “Scratch that. Forget cookies.”

“Let’s all forget it,” I volunteered. “Clay, where are we headed?”

“We’re going to continue to sweep the area, working clockwise. We’ll go a little farther tonight, since we have Colby with us. Whoever’s pulling the strings around here knows where to find us, I’m sure. When it comes time to play hardball, they’ll come to us if we don’t find them first. Meanwhile, our orders remain the same—hunt down the black witch responsible for the zombigo.”

“Aye, aye.” I cut him a mock salute. “Colby, stick close to Clay and keep as quiet and still as you can.”

“I’m a pro hair bow.” She climbed on top of his head and hunkered down in his hair. “I got this.”

We spent a few hours hiking through beautiful woodland without incident, which put Colby to sleep.

Asa walked beside me, but I missed the intimacy of our laced fingers. The moonlight, the scenic route, all made it easy to pretend, just for a second, we were on a midnight stroll for two. But the fact he kept our hands free meant he expected us to see action. I did too, but I dreaded it, considering Colby had a front row seat.