Chapter 7
Even after the shower, there was no way I was going to rest. I’d asked Ray out. On a whim. And he’d begrudgingly said yes. To be fair, I’d clarified it wasn’t a date. But it felt like one. At least to me. Either way, considering we’d barely spoken in months, it was a weird, rash decision.
But it was done now. No sense letting it churn on repeat in my brain.
I tried to relax, but my mind was still spinning.
Between the most awkward encounter ever and the supernatural wall I’d hit with Cupid, I couldn’t get settled.
The brain was gonna brain, no matter what.
And being in my house just didn’t feel right.
“Cecelia, let’s have dinner in the Reading Room.”
In a blink, I was in the upstairs loft of the Magnolia instead of my bedroom. My stomach gave a little hitch. Cecelia didn’t do that often, but when she did, it was akin to riding a roller coaster. Sneaking a quick peek at the time, I decided to try Psyche again before I devoted myself to reading.
I’d been trying to reach her since I’d made the threat to Cupid on Monday, and it was beginning to feel like an empty one.
She was as evasive as her husband, but with the added bonus of a staff of people to help her avoid me.
Feeling like a saleswoman calling at dinnertime, I dialed her number for the fifth time.
“Simone Bardot, Supreme of the Magnolia, calling for Jane Jones, please.” I bit back my snicker.
Now that things like magic, gods, and goddesses were believed to be fake, immortals had to blend in with the rest of us or risk drawing attention to themselves.
I was sure Psyche had a dozen pseudonyms in her back pocket.
She’d probably chosen the most generic one possible, thinking it wouldn’t stand out.
Ironically, it was even more attention-grabbing because it was so bland.
“Psyche is out for the evening, Simone,” the woman on the other side of the line answered. “But she’s asked me to let you know she will call you tomorrow afternoon when she’s finished her obligations for the day.”
Uh-huh. Sure she would. I was exactly zero percent surprised by this response, but I thanked her and hung up, tossing my phone on the table like it had somehow caused this predicament.
How the heck was I supposed to help them as a couple when I could only talk to one of them and barely got the truth when I did?
Therapy with Cupid wouldn’t progress until his wife, or future ex-wife, was involved.
Even if that meant getting him to realize he couldn’t win her back with a new body and magic flowers.
I was assuming she had no real interest in couples therapy, since she wasn’t returning any of my calls.
It would be nice to know either way, though.
Immortals could be so selfish. Meanwhile, I had the weight of every supernatural romance on my shoulders.
Oddly, there was an undercurrent of calm running through me.
In the past, new challenges sent me spiraling into anxiety.
Now? I hadn’t had a panic attack in months.
I routinely relied on my coven when I needed them.
I even asked for help without feeling like I was putting them out. Most of the time.
I no longer felt too small for the room. Or too big in my own body. I was no longer afraid just to take up space. This was a new challenge, sure, and a serious one. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of facing it. I just needed to give myself time to calibrate and come up with a solution.
Unfortunately, time was a factor. Not only did I have to figure out a way through this mess, I had to implement it, too.
I munched on the dinner Cecelia had provided while I sifted through all the nagging thoughts in my head.
I’d faced issues before, both supernatural and non-magical.
Surely there was a common element I could use to help me handle this one?
To my surprise, there was a common element I could point to. And it was one I’d never considered before.
When I’d first learned I was a witch, I’d asked Gumbo to teach me the basics of using my powers. During the Trials, I’d used logic as much as emotion to guide me through each one. As for the Threadbinding? By then, I’d read enough from the codex to be a proper leader for my coven.
Each time, I’d had to face my deepest emotions and fears.
And I had to be willing to be a little vulnerable.
Okay, more than a little vulnerable. But the short of it?
I’d had to get to know myself, and the circumstances around me, much better.
I’d learned to trust my instincts. To a point.
After all, they still asked guys out without consulting me first. But there was a bigger part of my power that I hadn’t recognized before.
The times things had gone awry were the times I’d jumped into a situation without all the details.
Gaining knowledge was a crucial part of my power.
I hadn’t done that with Cupid. I’d taken him at face value, and only used the stories he told me to form a picture of him. And Psyche. Aside from the basic intake material I gathered from all clients, and what I’d amassed during our sessions, there was very little I knew.
Maybe if I understood more about them, I’d find a clearer path forward. They might not be willing to be honest with me, or talk to me at all, but their stories were pretty well known. And that gave me a starting point.
“Thanks for dinner. Can you find some books for me?” The tray disappeared, and Cecelia transported volume six of the codex to the table. “Not this. Not yet anyway. There’s something else I wanna read.”
Sometimes, if something was buried too deep in my subconscious, Cecelia could only extract parts of it. So I opened my phone and did a quick search then held my screen up in the air, like she would see it. A moment later, a massive stack of Greek and Roman mythology books appeared. Perfect.
As much as I hated to admit it, my eyes were aging, too.
Could I have just started with the very search I’d pulled up on my phone for Cecelia?
Yep. But I would have felt that strain for days.
Plus, Cecelia had features that put every app in the world to shame.
“Parse the books for Cupid and Psyche, please.”
One by one, the books hovered in the air, opening and flipping through pages as if she were reading every word.
Before my eyes, bits of text were enlarged and highlighted.
Cute pink stickies marked the important sections.
When she was done, the books landed softly on the table in a new order.
With book six of the codex on the bottom.
Now I had a neatly organized and labeled collection of texts I could read through to fill the gap between what Cupid had told me and what mythology knew.
I was curious why the codex was still there, but I figured Cecelia knew something I didn’t.
At least not yet. That was usually the way it happened.
Sometimes I wished the universe would just bang me over the head with a hammer when there was something obvious at play.
I’d planned to spend a few hours reading any lore I could find, with the hopes it would be enough to shut my brain off and let me sleep.
But the more I read, the deeper I went down the rabbit hole.
At some point, Cecelia had placed a yellow notepad in my lap, with a pen that read Truth is Stranger Than Fiction. Weirder, too.
When the smell of coffee finally pulled me from my hyperfocus, I’d scribbled over ten pages of notes.
I also hadn’t moved, slept, or peed. And it was almost eight a.m. I stretched my legs and followed the coffee scent down the stairs, where Brianne sat at our break room table with a fresh mug she was definitely not drinking.
Instead, she stared into some unknown abyss with tears in her eyes.
“Hold that thought,” I told her, dropping a quick kiss on her head that made her jolt and bump into my chin.
I rubbed it on my way to the bathroom. Since I was in there, and a promise was a promise, I grabbed the cleaning supplies and scrubbed the toilet.
Cecelia sent me a giggle that I promptly ignored.
Honestly, what good was a magic house if it wouldn’t scrub the dang toilets?
There was a second mug at the table when I returned, and a slightly more focused looking Brianne. I took it, too sore to sit down, and held it close like it was going to deliver energy via osmosis.
“Rough night?” Brianne took in my wrinkled clothes and no doubt baggy eyes with a sympathetic smile. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”
“I was studying,” I told her, sitting across from her. “Roman mythology.”
“That sounds … interesting.” She dropped her head to focus on her coffee. I may have been using osmosis, but Bri was trying to hypnotize the caffeine into her body.
“I think you had a rough night, too.” I squeezed Brianne’s hand as I watched her chin tremble. “Anything I can do?”
“It sounds like you’re doing it. Nothing will happen on my end until our little god problem is resolved.” She sniffed, making a deliberate effort to sit upright. “And I refuse to mope a moment longer.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Because you moped for all of five minutes before I scared the wits out of you.”
“Sorry about your chin.” She managed an authentic grin. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Because I’m so sneaky.” The word sneaky brought to mind all of the notes I’d taken overnight and the general impressions I’d gathered about Cupid and Psyche. Looking across the table at my sad but logical friend, I really wanted her opinion about them. And not just hers.
I had the knowledge. Now I needed my coven’s input.
“Bri, can you check your schedule, and everyone else’s? I want to have the first of our Reading Room meetings today. Before I meet with Cupid again.” Brianne whipped out her phone and did some scrolling, then gave me a nod.
“I’ve sent us all a calendar invite.” Before she’d finished saying it, my phone pinged.
“Thanks, pal.” I gave her a quick squeeze, collecting our mugs and taking them to the kitchen to clean up. Then I waved goodbye and rushed upstairs.
I had some new suspicions about this whole Cupid situation, and I wanted to go through my notes one more time before I consulted with the coven. But first, I needed a nap. I wasn’t built for all-nighters anymore.
To my surprise, Gumbo was already on my bed when I trudged into the bedroom.
He was spread wide across the foot, his mismatched eyes slanted closed and a deep purr rumbling through his fat little body.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a good kitty snuggle.
I crawled in, and he slid under my arm, kneading the blanket with his cute little pink claws.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a Thursday.