5. Saplings in the Ash
Saplings in the Ash
F ourteen years later…
Smoky, hot clouds inked out of my mouth and nose. Underneath my oversized striped sweater, jeans, and Converse, my skin aggressively itched and burned, stretching into something newer and stronger. My obsidian pendant pounded against my chest, matching my racing heartbeat. My sharp black stiletto nails clawed my palms. My back ached, reaching the point of being pushed too far. The wind from it all made my eyes tear up, making me blink rapidly from behind my glasses. They were threatening to fog from the difference between the heat radiating off me and the chill outside. My feet pounded the grass so hard and fast I thought I would take off, sailing through the skies from just my efforts alone.
Haha, in my dreams. Then my life would be too easy.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave without me, train. I’m begging you!” I whispered. Times like this made me wish for magic to teleport to my destination, like witches, or to fly, like some shifters and air elementals. Missing the last Midnight Railway train straight to my apartment was an absolute curse I would do my damnedest to avoid. If I missed this train, I would have to wait thirty minutes for the next train, make two transfers, and still walk four blocks to get to my apartment.
A nightmare .
I ran through the Everlore University Commons toward the edge of campus. It was almost seven o’clock at night. The grounds were packed with the diurnal students leaving their last classes of the day and the nocturnal students heading to their first classes of the night. Both sets of students—one, full of supernaturals who preferred the day and the other, full of vampires, shadow-manipulators, and other creatures of the night, freshly woken up to start their day—meandered on the large central patch of grass and the circular path around it with no sense of urgency. On a normal day, I would never be on campus this late because of the crowds. But these things can’t be helped when the Evening Library Manager was an hour and a half late for her shift.
I smiled to myself. I couldn’t wait to tell the Director. That would almost make this slight and all the other passive-aggressive bullshit she did worth it.
Karma had a nice kiss in store for her.
“Excuse me! Pardon me! So sorry!” I said politely. I tried my best to run around folks, but pushing quickly became a requirement as the crowd thickened. Despite all my apologetic smiles and quality Southern manners, folks still gave me glances of distaste, hisses of annoyance, or outright blocked my path out of obnoxiousness. I lightly shoved against shoulders or chests, avoiding literally stepping on toes. I steered clear of coffee cups that were likely full of blood—Gods forbid, I deal with being gross and late. I hated being rude, but I also refused to miss this train.
Finally, the entrance came into view. An illuminated sign above read MIDNIGHT STATIONS, EVERLORE UNIVERSITY GATE. Auras lit up the dark stairwells and escalators leading underground. Moving billboards followed the stairs down, advertising various magical products and services, like a smart crystal ball and bespelled tattoos, that could be used for various tasks. An elevator was to the right, and an elevator-like shaft stood to the left with its bottom able to slide out to a pool to enter the Waterways. A series of transparent tunnels transporting water-inclined supernaturals, the massive tubes laced around city buildings and the Midnight Railways’s tracks. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see merfolk, water elementals, and other aquatic passengers as I crossed a bridge over one of the tubes to reach the gate.
I took the stairs fast enough to make my backpack purse slam against my back. Unlike this morning, there was not a soul taking the steps with me. It was too quiet. My curses bounced off the walls and back to me. Shit , I was late. I could feel sweat pooling under my bra’s underwire and streaming down my lower spine as I pushed to move even faster.
“Welcome to the Midnight Railways, Spellways, and Byways, the premier way to travel in Blackbell and beyond. Please maintain possession of all items, grimoires, familiars, and ferocious little tykes at all times as you make your way to your final destination. We know you could have chosen a personal teleportation spell for your travels, so we thank you for choosing the Midnight Railways, Spellways, and Byways!” A female voice announced overhead.
The Station had been so busy and wild this morning that I hadn’t even been able to hear the announcer. Now it was insanely empty, and I could easily see its moving parts. To the right of the stairs, there was a wall of magicked elevators from various apartments and street-side elevators to teleport visitors. Across from them were ticket kiosks and counters to buy tickets or add money to passes. The staff behind the counters looked bored and tired, unlike their frenzy this morning with fast- moving hands and lines of customers. I rushed ahead to the barricades that separated the entrance from the rest of the station.
In place of simple turnstiles, colorful floor-to-ceiling translucent walls softly buzzed that would give you a not-so-gentle zap if you didn’t pay or use a pass. I placed my hand over the scanner. After beeping an error message twice , my hand finally warmed when the red line went over my palm. At last, the screen below the scanner glowed green: Rune accepted! Proceed through the barrier to board . The color of the walls shifted, and I ran through.
I raced down the stairs to the platforms. A train, my train, waited below. I almost breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it!
Then I reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Please hold on. The doors are closing?—”
“No!” I screamed.
Now, anyone could see I was a big girl. I had an apron belly, big titties, a fat ass, and curves for days. I wasn’t a runner. As-is, I was spent and ready to sit my ass down. But hearing the announcement and seeing the doors slowly start to close pushed me over the edge. It made me pull from energy reserves I didn’t know I had. I ran—like, really ran—toward the doors. I gave it my all. I held my hand out to catch the door.
Right before they closed, I reached the doors.
But I totally forgot about the gap between the platform and the train.
I fell forward into the train, losing my breath entirely. My necklace clanged against the train’s floor, the noise like a coin falling on tile, but that wasn’t the only noise I heard. My favorite jeans, having been worn relentlessly, gave in where all my jeans do: where my thick thighs rub together. I felt the hole in the threads against my thighs and the new breeze there. Worse, in trying to catch myself to avoid my beautifully beat face connecting with the dirty floor, I ended up breaking two of my nails and cracking a few more. I groaned as my fingers throbbed from the pain. I immediately knew that the two broken ones were bleeding without even looking.
Fantastic .
I heard scattered clapping from the few folks aboard. I rolled my eyes.
Hell is other people. Truly.
“Please hold on. The doors are closing, and this train is departing,” The female voice repeated as the doors closed this time. Did she sound exasperated, or was it just me?
As the train moved, I picked myself off the floor and sat in the nearest seat. I felt my thighs chafe against each other and the remaining bits of denim, and I could cry. Old Navy didn’t even make these jeans anymore, meaning I would have to go in the store to find a new favorite pair. Taking my backpack purse from my shoulders and sitting it in my lap, I pulled a tissue from it to wrap around my two bleeding fingers. The nail had broken so deeply that it had ripped some of my nail bed off. And it stung . Honestly, what a sign of how today has been so far.
My phone vibrated on the floor, where it must have skittered across the floor when I tripped. I picked it up, dusted off the screen, and unlocked it. My earlier messages from the girls were already open.
ME
I’m so excited for tonight! Y’all don’t even know! I NEED this like I need air after today.
SIMONE
OMG, me too! We are going to have so much fun!
MAISIE
Super can’t wait. What time we meeting?
SIMONE
Party starts around 9, so maybe we meet around 7? Bee, that good?
ME
Of course! Should we pack an overnight bag?
SIMONE
Mama Bee as always. ?? Great idea!
SIMONE
So, we’re bringing out the hoe outfits, right?
MAISIE
For sure.
ME
Bet, babes. We are gonna be so fiiiiiiiiiiine.
SIMONE
LIT BITCH LETS GOOOOO.
Then from just a minute ago:
MAISIE
Walking out the door now.
I tapped out of our chat to check my conversation with Everett.
EVERETT
Girl. I’m exhausted on your behalf. All of this drama before 9? I’m going to get the good booze out for you tonight. #PoppinBottles ??
ME
How many times do I have to tell you to stop using hashtags in text, gramps?
EVERETT
#DontHateMeCuzUAintMe ??
ME
You are canceled. Good night. ??
ME
Sea invited me and Maze to a party her new boo is throwing tonight. Is it cool if they come over to get ready and pregame?
ME
I know I ask that every time and you have blanket-said yes, but I will never stop asking. I know you secretly love it.
ME
Will you be home tonight?
ME
Do you work?
ME
Do we not answer texts from our favorite niece now?
ME
Running super late because Ashleigh is a fucking bitch. Do people not know how to hate professionally anymore?
ME
FINALLY leaving. I’m guessing you are not home. You know I have abandonment issues. Why aren’t you responding?
ME
You can’t ghost your ward. That’s illegal, you know.
ME
Hello????
I furrowed my brows. Where was Everett? He always responded quickly to my texts. If he couldn’t, he would text me to say he was busy at work as a Field Agent for the Department of Supernatural Operations. It was strange that he hadn’t replied. Something tugged on my mind, a memory. But when I tried to focus on it, it was as elusive as a cloud of smoke. Even though I couldn’t remember it, I felt uneasy from the familiarity.
I returned to the group chat with my friends:
ME
I JUST boarded the train. Everett is MIA for some reason. Hopefully, I’ll be there in about 15-20 minutes.
It wasn’t long before my phone pulsed with a response.
SIMONE
You are totally good. I’m running late, too!
MAISIE
I would expect nothing less from you two, to be honest.
SIMONE
Wow. ?? You aren’t outside my door yet, ma’am.
MAISIE
You know damn well when I text walking out the door, I most often mean my bedroom door.
SIMONE
Exactly, bitch. Don’t read us. ??
I chuckled:
ME
A mess. Let me know when you ?heauxes? are on the way for real.
After everyone liked my message, I locked my phone and looked out the window. I was so engrossed in my texts I had missed the last few stops. We were already almost to the end of the tunnel, and the train was ascending out of it. It was almost time for my favorite part of the train ride that I always looked forward to. With no ceremony or fanfare, the train emerged onto the tracks high over the city. No matter how tired I was or how many times I saw this view in a day, it never lost its luster.
Blackbell stretched out like a cat readjusting before settling in for her next nap. Tucked away in southern Georgia, just a few miles from Albany, the city was massive . Even in the darkness of the night, it sprawled beyond the horizon. With the dazzling lights, the city was like a mirror of the stars. It was one of the largest supernatural cities in the country, one of the largest cities in Georgia, and the largest supernatural city in Georgia.
By design, you have likely never heard of it. Only certain humans who knew about supernaturals are allowed in. If you are a normal human and accidentally come within a few miles of Blackbell, you will never know it. As soon as you reach the outskirts, your eyes glaze over and your body develops a mind of its own. You will speed through each of Blackbell’s thirteen exits without blinking. Then on the other side, clarity will return, and you will proceed like nothing happened. You will never remember or question a thing. Or so I’ve heard. Blackbell folks say that this city has a mind of her own. Whether from the witches who run the city or a spell placed on the city long ago, Blackbell runs like an old black grandmother on her porch. She knows her kin, those with magical ties, and she welcomes them into her house for some sweet tea. Everyone else, she waves and sends them on their way.
The city of Blackbell was divided into four distinct districts, each with their purpose and vibes. Toward the west was the Business District. A supernatural Atlanta of sorts, with shiny skyscrapers towered high above and flashy modern buildings clustered within the bustling inner city. Home to the headquarters of corporations, banks, and offices, the Business District also housed the Georgia office of the United States Department of Supernatural Operations that oversaw supernatural affairs. On weekdays, the streets, air, and waterways were flooded with all sorts of supernatural creatures in business outfits, fancy cars, and on high-end brooms. When the sun set, the Business District could get a little dangerous, so I tried to avoid it.
In downtown Blackbell was Little Salem, named after the U.S. Headquarters for the witch’s Pinnacle Coven. All the buildings there were made of maroon brick and creamy white mortar. Of course, massive magic stores filled with spell books, magical ingredients, ritual items, and other witchy desires were aplenty. Most importantly, though, Little Salem had some of the best, most delicious restaurants in all of Blackbell—maybe the entire country. I swear, Soul Eater had pork chops to die for! Perhaps I was biased since Everett and I lived there. But there were quite a few cute cafés, stores, and places to hang out with my besties, too.
In the east sat the Shopping and Transport District. Expansive parking lots were separated by shopping centers, local mom-and-pop shops full of knickknacks, and tourist traps. The Midnight Railways, Spellways, and Byways’ main building was stationed there. The Spellways teleported witches, fae, and other magical beings to different stops in flashes of lights. On the outside, multiple trains and tracks for the Midnight Railways branched out from the main station, like any other city metro. The Waterway tunnels resembled a water park as it flowed its riders throughout the city. Above Blackbell, I knew there were dark shadows that temporarily blocked the stars as they flew over with their wings, powers, and on their brooms using the Airways. Many were ending their days and heading home or back out for fun. It was Thursday night, after all, and there were plenty of clubs getting ready to open their doors.
The train turned slightly, and I could see her gleaming like a Swarovski crystal in the sun, even in the night. At the very heart of the city, she was a blazing star that the universe of Blackbell revolved around. The Archive was one of the oldest libraries in the world, full of the oldest books ever written. Everlore University—Go, Beasts!—was built around the Archive to study the books within, and Blackbell was later built around that for community. She was a rather ordinary rectangular building that belonged in Little Salem with its brickwork until you noticed the huge, colorful stained-glass windows evenly spaced apart. Lit from within, colors bounced onto the ground in a sight that I could even see from my high vantage point. And then there was her roof. The Archive’s roof was a clear glass dome. When the sun hit it just right, she shined like a light going through a prism, a technicolor rainbow dancing off the modernity of the western towers, the cozy brick of Little Salem, the eastern Shopping District’s malls, and the surrounding university. Even at night, the Archive gave off a kaleidoscope of color. It was only a tease of the magic of the old library.
Seeing the city every day from this view was as stupendous as seeing it for the first time. This city was breathtaking to see and even more wonderful to experience. It was so incredibly accommodating for all the supernatural beings who lived within it. They truly prioritized their comfort over all else. Blackbell was full of so many creatures and history; the energy was as palpable as the magic used to run it.
And I loved it.
My phone vibrated in my hand, interrupting my thoughts.
MAISIE
I’m on the way. Like, I’m actually in the car with it turned on and headed to Simone’s right now.
SIMONE
Cool! Ready when you arrive!
The train slowed as it pulled into the first platform within Little Salem. There were two more stops left for me.
ME
I’m about 5-10 minutes out. There’s no one on the train, so it might be less.
SIMONE
No word still from E?
ME
Still radio silent.
SIMONE
Are you okay?
I knew that was code for “should they be worried?” I loved my besties so much. I shook my head as I replied.
ME
No, I don’t have a reason to be worried. He’s probably at work. I’m sure he left a note or something for when we get inside.
The train announced my stop, and the doors opened. I gathered my things and exited. The Railway Station closest to my apartment sat on an open-air platform a few floors shorter than most of the buildings nearby. The breeze up here and after the train rushed on felt nice against my residually sweaty back from running earlier. It was uncharacteristically cold for Georgia’s False Fall, when Georgia teased autumn but had one more heat snap left in her. It had been kind of chilly for about a week now. Cleo, my smart crystal ball, said a heat wave was due next week, but I had gone ahead and pulled out my sweaters all the same. I loved autumn too much to miss an opportunity to wear my finest plaid and start enjoying pumpkin-flavored everything.
I climbed the stairs down to the sidewalk, my breath coming out in foggy puffs. I scanned the rune on my hand once more to exit. It was just a couple block walk to the entrance of my home. Well, technically, Uncle Everett’s and my home.
A luxurious top-floor penthouse condo that Everett bought for us when he took me in after Mom and Pops died, our house was located on a corner lot in the best apartment building this side of Blackbell. The building itself screamed Great Gatsby in its red brickwork with white stone details. Plus, it was packed full of amenities, like a Manhattan apartment. Honestly, it cost about the same.
On either side of the stairs, before entering the building, sat a pair of gargoyle statues. They were crouched on a pillar and ready to take flight, with their massive bat-like wings tucked behind them. They both had large pointed ears, bald heads, giant snouts full of sharp fangs, lengthy talons on both their hands and feet, and large muscular builds that made them appear intimidatingly huge even while they were sitting. Both of them, along with the other gargoyle shifters, served as security guards, preventing anyone with bad intentions from entering the building. Of course, if they liked you, they could also be concierges, recommending the best places to eat and visit, as well as the best Byways to take to avoid traffic.
“Evening, Noctis and Rook!” I greeted them both with a smile. “How are my favorite stony shifters tonight?”
Slowly, Noctis, the one on the left with a missing fang and curling tail, shifted his head to smile down at me. Even seated like they were, they towered over my five-foot-one frame, not even including the pillars. Rook, the one on the right with horns, nodded toward me. Both of their movements sounded like driving on gravel. In his deep baritone voice, Noctis replied, “Good evening, Miss Pierce. You’re a little late tonight. We were beginning to worry.”
“Oh, the Evening Manager was late to relieve me. You know how she is.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, a bitch,” Rook said.
I laughed. “She is, but unfortunately, I can’t be cloned. Have you guys seen Everett at all today?”
Noctis frowned. “I haven’t seen him leave the building today, but I just started my shift about an hour ago.”
Rook snorted. “Oh, he has been busy upstairs today.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, in that case, I’m going to head on up. My girls are on their way here. Do you mind sending them up when they get here? I should be done yelling at Everett by then.”
“Give ‘em hell,” Rook said, making me and Noctis chuckle as I climbed the stairs and entered the building. The gargoyles weren’t the biggest fans of Everett. It likely had something to do with both griffins and gargoyles being guardian creatures and thinking the other was infringing on their territory.
Then again, Everett could be an asshole, so it could also just be that.
Inside, the first floor of our building was just as posh as the outside. I walked across our expansive lobby to the elevator. I swiped the same hand from the Railways over the rune reader in the elevator to take me up to our penthouse, loving how runes could be layered in one spot for multiple uses.
Nervously, I checked my phone again while rubbing my obsidian pendant like a worry stone. Nothing new from Everett or the girls. Thanks to the gargoyles, my worry morphed now into curiosity. Aside from work, what could have Ever so distracted that he couldn’t text me back? I shot the girls a message in our group chat to have the gargoyles let them in when they arrived since Everett was home, apparently . I had only enough time to read Simone’s text full of question marks before the elevator door dinged and opened to the foyer hallway.
Three things hit me at the same time:
One, the house smelled delicious . I smelled it from the lower floors, but I assumed it was another floor that actually used their kitchen for something other than wine and snack storage.
Two, the music was absolutely reverberating through the walls, and I knew immediately it wasn’t Everett playing it. My Uncle’s tastes in music were more alternative and soulful, like Teddy Swims, Sam Smith, Earth Wind & Fire, Luther Vandross, and the like. This was more poppy, rave-y, and very, well, gay in its beats and lyrics.
Three was my cat, who I felt and heard plop from a barstool to run to me. Dinah was my long-haired black cat that I had adopted when I had first moved in with Everett. She yowled loudly and excitedly over the music as she approached, her cute, fat, and fluffy sides jiggling in her stride. I bent down and took her up in my arms.
“Din-din! Did you miss your mama?” I held her just like the baby she was. Dinah—or Din-din, when she was being a sweetheart and still had her name privileges—was a rare breed of cat that not only let me pet her stomach, but loved it. She could hold a meow for over a minute easy, and her meows were so loud I just had to name her after my favorite superheroine, the Black Canary and her sonic scream. As I showered her in kisses, she was purring like an old motorcycle with her jade-green eyes closed, her vibrations racing throughout my body. I exited the foyer, still holding Dinah, and entered the Great Room.
The center of the penthouse, the Great Room was a dramatic space with vaulted, sky-lit ceilings. The layout was open concept with the living room space being on my left and the dining area and huge-as-fuck kitchen being on the right. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up the entirety of the far wall and opened onto a private rooftop terrace with the best views of Little Salem. Even at night, the mirroring view of the stars and the city of Blackbell stunned me. But that was not what stopped me so short tonight that I jostled Din-Din, eliciting a grumble-meow from her.
The expansive counters were full of food. It was more food than had ever sat on the polished marble slab countertops. There were plates upon plates of pasta—spaghetti, fettuccine, penne, rigatoni, rotini, cavatappi, vermicelli, and even lasagna—of all kinds with all sorts of sauces—meat, marinara, basil, Alfredo, garlic butter, and more. Perfectly cooked steak, seasoned chicken, blackened shrimp, sausage with peppers and more were plated nearby. Bowls of various kinds of salad also sat on the countertops, with enough tiny pitchers of dressing to rival a grocery store aisle. There was even bread —garlic, cheesy garlic, and bruschetta. The smell of it all would make an Olive Garden weep with its inadequacy. There had to be enough food to feed me and Everett at least three times over, and we both had enormous appetites. My roaring stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast around eight this morning. I was starving .
Movement on the other side of the counter made me lift my eyes from the buffet of my dreams. There, behind the stove, cooking up a storm still, was a nice-sized man-butt. The owner of the butt was tall and lean with olive skin. He had rich, thick hair that went past his neck. His neck, back, arms, and parts of his legs I could see were covered in patchworks of tattoos of everything, and his ears were pierced with hoops, studs, and even a crossbar with a long, delicate silver chain on one side. The Mystery Man hummed along to the music as he cooked, obviously enjoying making a feast to feed a football team twice over.
Covering my mouth with my hand, I failed to stifle my laughter enough. Mr. Cute Buns stopped his humming and sautéed even more pasta in a skillet, like a competitive television chef.
“I hope you had a nice shower, honeybun!” he exclaimed. “I also hope you meant what you said about being super hungry! I made plenty for you and your niece. By the way, do you know when she’s supposed to be home?—?”
He finally turned around to face me, and his jaw immediately dropped. The skillet almost slipped out of his hands, too.
Mr. Cute Buns was just as objectively handsome in the front as he was in the back. His chocolate boyish cut was so long that it tickled his long eyelashes, making him blink frequently. His pale gray-green eyes were stark, stunning, and wide open in surprise. The Mystery Man was obviously naked, save for a long denim and leather apron covering his front. He was as covered in tattoos on every available surface as his back. I saw everything from a pair of axes on his neck to strange symbols I didn’t recognize.
He was young, but with supernaturals, that truly meant nothing. I could not tell what kind of supernatural he was. Sometimes, with a trained eye, you can tell, like with vampires who are scarily pretty or certain elementals who resembled their element. But this guy was a blank slate, meaning he could be anything from a witch to a rare kind of shifter or nothing at all. Although, considering the food in front of me, I’m sure he was something magical. Unfortunately, it was rude in supernatural circles to ask what people were—like asking a person of color where they were really from. No, like where their parents were from. This Mystery Man looked like a cool enough guy, the kind I would definitely joke around with, despite him maybe having centuries on me in age. He also looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why or where I knew him. Currently, though, he was red as an apple.
We stared at each other for just a second longer before he cursed under his breath and started scrambling. A bright swirl of pale green sparkles and smoky tendrils took the skillet out of his hand and dumped the pasta into the last available empty plate on the counter. The same magic set the skillet on the stove and turned it off. With its tasks done, it vanished.
So, some kind of witch, then.
With his actual hand, he pulled his phone out from one of the apron’s pockets to pause the music. It was like a real-life record scratch as silence fell on us. I bit my lip to stop myself from bursting into laughter, but the chuckles trying to escape me still racked my body enough to make Din-din jump from my arms.
Mr. Cute Buns turned to face me again, wiping his hands down his apron. But, he managed a boyish smile. “H-hello there. I-I mean, g-good evening! Hi, gorgeous. Uhh, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fantastic. This has made my day.”
“Great! Uh, you’re Byrd, right? Eevee’s niece?”
I finally lost it. Through my laughter, I said, “ Eevee ? Like the Pokémon? That’s so stinking cute .”
“I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that,” He chuckled while blushing. “He’s going to kill me now that I gave you that ammunition.”
“Trust me, he’s gonna want to kill me after all the shit I’m about to give him,” I said as it finally clicked who he was. “Besides, he likes you too much to kill you.”
“He has talked about me with you?” His eyes twinkled.
I laughed again. Since we had moved in together when I was fifteen, Uncle Everett had become way more of my best friend than a parent—not that I could think of a time when that wasn’t the case. We gossiped, talked about our love lives, daydreamed about our futures, and binged trashy reality television for hours. There was nothing that was off-limits for us. So, of course, he had told me about Thompson several months ago when they started talking. But he had had a roster of men back then, the length of a basketball team’s starting lineup. Still, as time went on, the others couldn’t compete with Thompson, and he became the center of Everett’s dating attention. He was the only guy Everett would talk about, and when he did, there was this pull at his lips, this blush across his freckled cheeks, this way his eyes sparkled, this way his body language shifted that had never happened when he spoke about someone else before. As a hopeless romantic who read romance books and watched rom-coms like they were the air I needed to breathe, I knew he was falling for him. Hell, he seemed to already be in love. Some growing part of him knew it, too. But in his typical Leo Sun way, Uncle Everett refused to admit that he could be The One . Unlike lesbians, gays—especially old ones—moved at the speed of evolution in their relationships.
“Ah, so you must be the famous Thompson, huh? He has made me fall for you, and the pasta buffet has really cemented that we’re going to be the best of friends.”
As Thompson chuckled, I heard a door open and distinct footsteps pattering on the plank oak floors. Everett rounded the corner, drying his hair using a towel. Since I was a teen, he had gotten even more freckles all over his tanned complexion. Now he wore a sleeveless tank and a pair of sweatpants. His eagle wings were out with the feathers still wet from his shower as they peeked past his tank top. Usually, Everett hid his wings under his shirts using a glamor. But as soon as he got home, he released his wings to allow them to stretch out. Even though I was used to seeing Mr. Birdman, it was always crazy seeing his wings that could reach each end of the Great Room when stretched out.
“Teddy, babe, have you seen my phone? I didn’t realize how late it was, and Byrd is late as fuck. I’m starting to worry.”
“Aw, you do care!”
Uncle Everett moved the towel around his neck and took in my and Thompson’s current state. His face drained of color. “K-kiddo, how long have you been home for?”
“Long enough, Eevee ,” I teased, winking Thompson’s way. “Work ran late, and the girls invited me to a party tonight. Of course, you would know that if you hadn’t lost your phone .”
“Sorry! I must have lost it in the couch or something earlier while Teddy and I were…” He shrugged at a loss for words, glancing back at Thompson. Finally, he settled on one. “ Busy .”
There was that word again. Looking at Thompson and his partial nudity, it all clicked at once. “Oh my gods, have y’all been fucking all day ?”
“Byrd—”
“Holy shit, y’all have! I don’t know whether to be impressed, jealous, or kinda grossed out.”
“ Byrd .”
“You would never know you two got down and dirty by the look of the penthouse. What did y’all do? Missionary the whole time? Did y’all just stay in the bedroom?”
“Honey, please.” Thompson snorted despite his red face. “I have way too much magic and religious and homophobic trauma to be that vanilla for that long.”
“Oh, we are going to be some dangerous friends,” I winked at Thompson.
“You two will be the death of me, actually,” Everett groaned. “Byrdie, didn’t you say your friends were on the way? Shouldn’t you get ready?”
“Nooo, what about dinner? I can’t go to a party starving! I’m wasting away!” I placed a hand on my forehead dramatically.
“No worries, doll,” Thompson waved his hand. In a swirl of green magic, a cabinet opened and pulled out five plates. Each pasta—which were still magically steaming hot—started to pile on them, along with various meats and breads. Once a nice sampling of everything was on each plate, foil wrapped itself over each and found a space on the counter to sit in front of five barstools. Then the magic enveloped Thompson like an intense fog. When it lifted, the apron was gone, and he was now in a t-shirt and joggers.
“Now, that’s a power I desperately need.”
“Girlie, with your fashion sense already giving and serving? You would become unstoppable if you were a magical entity, too.”
“The last thing this menace needs is magic. You’ll see.”
“Hey—!” I was about to quip when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. It was a “Here” text from Maisie. I smiled.
This was going to make the whole day worth it, and I couldn’t wait.
Now, for the party to really begin.