4. Fallout
CHAPTER FOUR
Fallout
My mind was still spinning. Just a few minutes ago, I’d been in the middle of the most important ritual of my life, and now the flower I’d spent the last five years nurturing was in tatters on the floor, my lungs were filled with its pollen, and a mothman who looked like I’d summoned him from the dreams I had during ovulation was staring at me.
His black hair licked at the nape of his neck, and soft curls fell over his forehead. In the faint light, a nose bridge piercing and a lip ring glinted softly. But all I could focus on were the dark eyelashes framing his red eyes.
Of course my life would be ruined by someone incredibly hot.
As the thought entered my mind, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Goddess bless, could he feel that? That I thought he was hot?
This was a disaster. Of course he could.
We had been bonded by the Moon Queen, and magic had never cared very much about my dignity.
I could feel his confusion and embarrassment over the whole situation because those certainly weren’t my feelings.
My heart felt like it was being crushed in my chest, but I took a deep breath and pushed that away. Like I always had.
He was talking, but my mind was racing, and I hadn’t heard a single word.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“So what do you need for a counter-spell?”
“I’m not sure. I was researching how the essence could apply to curse breaking, not the pollen-bond.” I don’t know why I even bothered. Not like he would hear any of that. He’d hear whatever the curse twisted it into. I watched his face, waiting for it to shift into revulsion.
His expression didn’t change, and through our new bond, I didn’t feel the expected repulsion either. He nodded, and his antennae flicked, which was ridiculously adorable. “Curse breaking? Okay, so you might have something that could help with the counter-spell from your research?”
I stared at him.
Doris had backed away from watch out. Marigold had stopped bringing me bread over thank you, this is too much.
For years, I’d stuck to pointing and numbers because numbers were the only things the curse couldn’t chew up, and this man—this mothman—had just answered me like he’d really heard me. A very dangerous ember lit in my heart.
He shifted his weight and nearly knocked another pot off the table behind him.
“Watch out,” I said.
The words that had chased Doris out of my greenhouse. The words I’d stopped saying to anyone because the curse loved them. My whole body went stiff, waiting for him to flinch, to pale, to look at me the way they all had…
“Oh.” He glanced down and stepped neatly sideways. “Thanks for the heads-up. That one’s poisonous, yeah?”
Once was a coincidence. But this was repeatable data.
“What did I just say?” My voice came out annoyingly desperate. “Repeat it back to me. Exactly.”
His brow furrowed, and through the bond, I felt his wariness. A valid emotion for a mothman who had crashed through one window tonight and didn’t want to upset the witch further. “You said ‘watch out.’ Was that—was it a trick question?”
“And before that. When you asked about the bond?”
“You said you weren’t sure. You’d been studying it for curse breaking.” He raised his hands slightly. “Look, if I’m getting it wrong, I hit my head pretty—”
“You wait here. My notes are in the house. I need to write this down.”
“Oh, yeah…okay.” He found a clean piece of floor, away from any plants and broken glass, and…sat.
He just listened to me and did what I said, and that sent an old thrill through me I hadn’t felt in years. He must’ve felt it too because he gave me a strange look.
“Um…your notebook?”
“Right, right. Oh, I’m Lucia, by the way.”
“I’m Hawk.” He gave me a tilted smile that made the piercing in his lip glint in the faint light that remained.
Nope. I was not looking at that.
I walked toward the heavy iron door, only glancing back for a moment as I swung it open. Mugen was perched on the trellis above him, swatting at his antennae, and Hawk let out that cute squeaking sound again as he tried to shoo the creature away.
Focus, Lucia.
I stepped out into the cold and started up the gravel path toward the house.
The night air was crisp after the humid greenhouse, and I breathed it in gratefully.
My mind was already on what I would need from the house, ways to mitigate this horrible disaster.
I made mental lists, short-term goals, anything to keep the horrible feeling rising in my stomach at bay as I remembered the broken Moon Queen in my hands.
But the feeling was stronger than normal, rising into my chest like bile. I’d walked about twenty feet from the greenhouse when a sharp cramp in my left side stopped me, like a knife between my ribs.
I paused. This wasn’t just emotional.
I took another step, and the pain intensified, both in my ribs and in my heart.
“Hawk?” I called back without turning.
“Yeah?” His voice sounded odd. Tight.
Another step.
The pain clamped down around my heart until I was afraid it would stop beating.
I stopped. Turned around.
Through the greenhouse windows, I could see him on his feet now, one hand pressed flat to his chest, the other gripping the table beside him, his knuckles white.
“Are you—” he started.
“Come here.”
He picked his way over the glass, out through the door, and onto the path. With every step, the pain lessened, and when he was six feet from me, it was gone entirely.
We stood there in the dark, both panting and staring at each other.
“Don’t move,” I commanded, and he nodded.
I took a few steps backward, away from him, and once again, at about twenty feet, the pain became so intense my knees started shaking. He closed the distance, his face pale.
“That’s new,” Hawk remarked.
“That’s a problem,” I replied, meaning it fully.
“You’ve got that right. I have deliveries to make.”
I peered up at him. His red eyes were ringed with exhaustion, and I felt his worry creeping through him and then through me.
Next step, Lucia. What’s the next step?
“Change of plans. You’re coming with me.”
“Into the house?” he asked.
“Into the house. Please don’t touch anything. I’ve got poisonous plants everywhere. I’ll find my notes, and I’ll need your help with something. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He said it without any hesitation, and that same pleased feeling rolled through my chest again.
This time, it was a lot harder to shut down as I really got a look at his whole six-foot-something frame in his tight motorcycle jacket beneath the starlight.
He was watching my face when it happened, and I saw his mouth twitch.
“Walk.”
He fell in beside me on the path, matching my pace exactly, and I kept my eyes on the dark shape of the house so I wouldn’t have to look at him, because that wasn’t leading to anything productive. And right now, being productive was the only defense I had from completely breaking down.