Chapter 21 Ezra
Suggested Listening: Existential Crisis Mykl
Iwould have thought a day could only be this chaotic if Vyslan was in the middle of it.
He isn’t.
What’s even more surprising is how Puck and I have worked side-by-side all morning without issue.
It’s not exactly comfortable. I can practically see the chip on his shoulder, but he isn’t frigid.
Maybe a little icy towards me, but I can work with that.
Things aren’t going to change overnight between us.
And that’s okay. I did three movies with my childhood enemy, fooling the public into believing our on-screen brotherly bond was real.
Truth was, every week one of us was screaming at the other for something.
The way things are now between Puck and me? That’s easy mode. I’ve got this.
The major drama has come from Darius getting blitzed into a seer’s coma, the budtenders, the generally poor condition of the retail area, and Poppy being, well, Poppy.
Jen comes around the corner into the more magic-centric side of the store with a box and places it on the sofa. “I don’t know what you want to do with these.”
Puck pauses sweeping, and I place the last vape cartridge in the witchweed display case. Before I can ask Jen what’s in the box, she’s gone back to the counter.
“What’s in the box?” Puck asks.
“Hell if I know.”
Curious, I cross to the sofa and cut the tape with my nail. In the list of vampire perks, I never would have counted steel nails, but they’re pretty great. The flaps pop up, and I pull a layer of bubble wrap off the top only to stare at the glossy boxes.
“Is…” Puck sighs. “Is that what I think it is?”
I reach into the box and pull out a massive, joint-shaped vibrator in bubble gum pink. “Yup.”
He shakes his head. “Poppy?”
“Probably. Briella, maybe.”
Of the three girls, Poppy tends to be the indulger.
The free spirit. While Briella is very in-her-head and in her books.
That said, she’s grown a lot in the year I’ve known her.
She’s taking her freedom from her family and coven very seriously.
Depending on what she’s been reading, this could be her idea.
Gracie tends to be more practical and focused on the bottom line, so I highly doubt she’d make a gamble like this.
Especially given the bills the girls have.
We haven’t had the chance to talk finances, but I’m going to be putting my foot down about letting all of us crash at the house rent-free.
We all need to pitch in. I know she won’t allow me or anyone else to simply pay the bills for her, but we can divide things equally and ensure the girls are taken care of.
Maybe not in the way I or Puck would like.
I suspect we have similar, higher-end tastes.
So, some of it will have to be strategic.
And that will require more teamwork. I don’t expect any pushback, at least.
“Gracie know?” Puck asks.
“Maybe? Though, I can hear her saying, not my circus, not my monkeys.”
Puck snorts, and the corners of his mouth quirk upward. Seems that’s been her approach to a lot of things over the years.
I place the product back into the box and mentally start doing the gymnastics about where these can go. We do have parents who bring their children in with them, so this isn’t something we want out in the open. Especially if a younger kid thought it was a toy.
“What are you thinking?” Puck asks.
I rub my hand over my face. “Before I put these out, I think I should make sure Gracie knows. And then we can think through product placement, which will be the real pain in my ass.”
Puck nods slowly. “Good plan.”
I have to blink a few times to process his words.
Did Puck just agree with me?
He swipes the broom across the pristine floor once more.
One good turn deserves another, I suppose.
I glance over my shoulder at the rest of the shop, but it’s blessedly empty at this point in the afternoon.
“Mind if I have a word?” I ask.
Puck’s gaze slants toward me. “About?”
I take a step closer until we’re conversationally close. It still feels like we’re polar opposites. It’s like the air around us is actively pushing the other away.
“Got something to say?” Puck asks.
“If… If things went worst-case-scenario…?” I give him a pointed look.
It’s clear that Gracie kept Puck’s gifts a secret because they’re misunderstood.
But in all of this, I see the answer to a different kind of concern.
One I know Gracie would never consider. “If that happened, could I trust you to stop me?”
He blinks a few times, then his brows come down.
With his glamor on, he looks like a young, stylish Black man.
His complexion is a dozen shades lighter.
His ears tiny. Small changes that make him appear to be someone completely different.
Someone I might have been friends with in another time.
It’s kind of easier to talk to him looking like this.
“Run that past me one more time?” he asks.
“I’m changing. I… I used to have a lot of scars. They’re almost all gone. It got me worried… What if I change in other ways, you know? What if…? What if I change and I hurt Gracie?”
“I would never let that happen.” He says it so simply, like it’s a known fact.
“You think you could stop me if…?”
“Without a doubt.” He isn’t cocky or bragging. It’s just solid confidence.
I blow out a breath and feel a weight slip from my shoulders. Without thinking, I reach over and grip his arm. “Good. Thanks.”
I think we both realize at the same moment that I’m touching him. We both look at my hand on his arm, then back to each other.
I don’t know that we’ve ever made contact beyond that one time he almost ripped my shirt off while yelling in my face or the other day when I shoved him out of the shop. I give his arm another awkward pat then step back.
Can’t say I didn’t make an effort. Nothing like asking your girlfriend’s boyfriend to kill you if you go off the deep end.
I wouldn’t want to put that on Vyslan. He likes his psycho-demon act, but the truth is he’s a big softie.
I think having to harm me would irrevocably change him for the worse. Or break him.
As if thinking about him summons the demon, the front door bursts open.
“Hello, purveyors of fine botanicals!” the demon himself calls out. He has one arm thrown out, and the other is wrapped around Luc’s shoulders, hauling the poor guy along.
“Hey, Toothy.” Jen leans over the counter and gives Vyslan a high-five. “Gracie is on the phone right now and said not to disturb her.”
Vyslan covers his mouth with his hand and hunches his shoulders, whispering, “Apologies.”
Puck snorts. “Why don’t you take this time to show them the space?”
I pick through Puck’s suggestion, weighing his words for some sort of slight.
He went with Gracie earlier to talk to the gnomes while I stayed at the shop.
I haven’t seen the space, but I have been in the gnome’s shop plenty of times.
The family is… Spicy. When the menfolk have pissed off the ladies, I tend to get a call from one of the elder matrons about helping move some item or another, which is tantamount to gnome warfare.
Yet every time I see the patriarch, he sticks a peppermint in my pocket.
It’s a strange relationship, but I never got to know my grandparents as they were off living their lives until their untimely deaths, so the gnomes feel a bit like what it might be like to have grandparents.
I can’t tell if Puck is trying to get rid of me or give me a break.
“Sure,” I say and decide to just go with the flow.
I’m curious about Luciu, anyway. I’ve caught him staring a few times. I’d like to know what his problem is. I can only handle one conflict in this… I guess we’re a family? That’s what Gracie has begun to call it.
The skinny, emo-looking guy twirls a set of keys on his finger. The single shock of platinum hair is coiled into a perfect curl hanging over his brow.
He has nice hands. It’s probably a weird thing to focus on, but I’ve always paid attention to people’s hands. Especially on set. Some people communicate with their entire bodies. Luciu seems to be fairly closed off, but not his hands. The way he fidgets and picks at his clothing betrays his unease.
Did I do that? Or is he working out something else?
“Come on,” I say and move past Vyslan.
Luciu backs out of the door as I approach.
The sun feels like it’s poking my eyes. I hold up my hand, shielding my face. “If I lose my sun resistance, I’m going to be pissed.”
Vyslan drapes his arm over my shoulders and we begin to walk. “Is it getting worse?”
“Maybe. No burning or blistering, though.”
“Such a pretty princess.” Vyslan ruffles my hair, pulling half of it out of the elastic. “You know, most vampires can’t step foot in the sunlight?”
“Excuse me for liking the status quo. Can we walk any faster?”
Vyslan cackles, then scoops me up in his arms, and starts running across the street, ignoring the oncoming cars. “Hurry up, Luc! Our damsel is in distress!”
I do squeal. Mostly because a car swerves inches from Vyslan to miss us. He hits the sidewalk and pitches forward, dumping me back on my feet. I end up doing a little spin to get my balance, half bent forward, arms windmilling at my sides.
“Righteous runes!” Luciu comes jogging after us, having waited for a break in the traffic. “What the hell?”
Vyslan just grins and smacks my shoulder. “Live a little! Now, come on. I want to see what the gnomes have.”
He skips—literally, arms waving at his sides—down the sidewalk toward the gnome’s antique shop, leaving Luciu and me to stare after him.
“Is he always like this?” the man beside me asks.
“Uh, this is… A bit more… It’s a bit more Vyslan-y than usual.”
“Got it. Yeah, that makes perfect sense,” Luiciu says slowly.