by Kate Moseman
Phoenix rolled his eyes. “And did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Notice you.”
“I think so.”
“You’re an attention-seeking missile, you know that?”
Raya picked up a bottle of cologne from a nearby counter and spritzed him. “Takes one to know one.”
He waved the cloud of scent away. “How much coffee have you had today, anyway?”
“I lost count. As I was saying—oh, look!” Raya seized a distressed denim jacket from a nearby rack and held it up.
“Back away from the denim.”
Raya dropped it back on the rack. “Spoilsport.”
Phoenix caught the attention of a salesperson. “Excusez-moi, avez-vous des vestes en cuir?”
The salesperson responded in French and pointed deeper into the store.
Phoenix took the lead as they meandered through one exquisite room after another, until they reached a quiet department decorated with warm blond wood and flattering spotlights.
“She said there were a few left back here.” Phoenix veered away to a rack set into one of the wooden displays. “Ah, here we are.” He pulled a few forward and glanced at Raya, eyeing her for size.
Raya pounced on a jacket with a fit-and-flare shape. “Come to mama.” She ran her hands over the butter-soft leather, stopping when the tag at the cuff scratched her palm. She flipped it over to view the price. Her stomach dropped. She hastily placed the jacket on the rack. “I was only kidding, you know,” she said flippantly. “Just yanking your chain. Let’s go.”
“What? And deprive myself the pleasure of making you wear a matching jacket? Not on your life, witch.”
“Really, Phoenix—”
“Quiet.” He held the jacket open behind her. “Where do you think I get my money from?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. We never really—talk?” She made the realization only as the words left her lips.
“That’s because you’re too busy trying to be clever. Put the jacket on.”
She carefully slipped her arms into the jacket. It fit like a dream.
Phoenix bent and whispered in her ear: “I steal from bad people. They’ll hardly miss it.”
“Stealing is wrong,” said Raya, without any conviction whatsoever—and utterly distracted by his voice so close to her ear.
He straightened up and patted her shoulder. “So is casting spells to make people do what you want. I’d say we’re even.”
“I don’t cast—”
“Really? What about your little shenanigan at the baggage claim?”
“That doesn’t—”
“Or the time you conjured a demon and made him follow your friend’s ex-husband all over creation?”
Raya whirled around to face him. “I didn’t mean to conjure you, specifically.”
He smirked. “Didn’t stop you from threatening to make me do your lawn work, did it?”
“I—”
“Relax,” he interrupted. “I’m just winding you up.” He turned her around again by tugging strategically on the jacket, then slid it off her shoulders. “You really are easy to rile.” He folded the jacket over his arm and sauntered off in the direction of the nearest cash register.
Left to fume among the racks of clothing, Raya didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted by the comparison between their respective moral failings.
Either way, she’d somehow ended up coordinating outfits with the most irritating demon she’d ever met.
5
Before bed, Raya rummaged through her collection of free samples from the convention, placing a concentration crystal, a wand-cleaning swatch, and a packet of herbal perfume aside before holding a tiny bottle of dream-enhancing lotion up to the light.
She turned the bottle this way and that, looking for a list of ingredients. The bottle appeared to be too small to include the ingredients on the label. Raya twisted the cap free and sniffed.
The lotion smelled of rosemary and mint, with a sweet trace of chamomile and something else she couldn’t identify.
She tipped the entire contents of the bottle into her hand.
Where to put it?
Raya dabbed a little on her arms and legs, and patted the remainder on her neck for good measure. She could always buy more if it worked.
She placed the empty bottle on the nightstand and turned off the light, then moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
The moonlight illuminated the creamy stone exteriors of the buildings lining the street, giving them an ethereal appearance despite their solidity. She held her wand to the window and opened her free hand, concentrating on absorbing the light of the moon through her palm and her wand.
Raya let the curtain fall back into place. She crawled into the bed and laid her head on the square pillow.
She’d never shown any skill with lucid dreaming, despite plenty of reading on the subject. Her dreams tended toward the fragmented and abstract, more like impressions than anything coherent.
Demons, on the other hand, walked through dreams as easily as they walked through the waking world. Too bad the skill didn’t rub off from hanging around Phoenix.
Why had he followed her to Paris, anyway?
Her thoughts slid into blackness as sleep vanquished her consciousness.
A fire appeared before her. She reached toward it, not in longing for warmth, but in desperation for the flames to go out.
Her belongings were burning in the pyre.
She could see the outlines of her books, their pages curling up as they burned to ash.
Lost in the logic of the dream, Raya plunged her hands into the fire, grasping at the books, her hands and arms struck by searing pain. She felt tears fall and heard them hiss into steam in the flames.
A door slammed, and the fire disappeared. She leaned against the door, pushing with all her might, knowing that it would never swing open for her again.
“Please,” she said, pressing her hand against the door. “Mom? Dad?”
They would never open that door again.
Not for her.
Not after they’d thrown her books into a fire in the backyard.
Raya screamed and the world shook, reverberating with rage.
She’d show them. She’d become the greatest witch ever known. It wouldn’t matter anymore that she’d been thrown out of the house and disowned by her own family, not when she could command powers beyond their understanding.
The dark scene dissolved, replaced by a forest of tall trees punctuated with massive boulders.
Raya touched a tree trunk and felt the rough bark under her fingertips. Sunlight filtered through the canopy and danced across her skin.
Why was she here? What was happening?
Raya tossed and turned in the bed, the movement dragging her up from the depths of the dream like a swimmer buoyed to the surface of the water.
The cloying scent of the lotion suddenly repelled her.
She threw off the covers and staggered to the bathroom. The sight of her tear-streaked face in the mirror made her turn away in shame. She twisted the shower taps, removed her clothing, and stepped into the water before it was even warm, scrubbing the lotion away as fast as she could.
Never again.
The past was nothing but an ugly dream.
With every trace of the dream-enhancing lotion removed, she stepped out of the shower, dried off, and put her pajamas back on.
Still she shivered.
In the darkened hotel room, she reached for the new leather jacket she’d carefully hung in the tiny closet. She slipped it on over her pajamas, wrapped it tightly around herself, and curled up in the bed, her hands clutching the soft leather until the shivering subsided.
Oversleeping wasn’t a great way to start th
e day. Raya felt like her feet were dragging through mud as she trudged into the convention hall. She’d skipped coffee to get there faster.
It was possibly the worst decision of her life.
Well, right after the decision to put on that damned dreaming lotion.
Raya shuddered.
What a disaster.
Determined to make the best of the day, she sought out the vendor hall. She’d stuffed her pockets with enough dollars and euros to make a sizable dent in the stock of any shopkeeper.
Magical supplies, after all, were far more important than groceries. She’d figure out how to continue eating when she got home to her real job as a school librarian. For now, she was going to spend her money like a sailor on leave—minus the excessive booze and questionable paid company.
Phoenix was the very definition of questionable company, but he certainly wasn’t paid, and a few glasses of champagne here and there couldn’t possibly be considered excessive.
Her self-justification firmly in place, she entered the vendor hall. Skirted tables and fabric booths stretched in long rows through the room. Raya hardly knew where to start, so she plunged into the nearest row, her head swiveling from side to side as she attempted to take it all in.
“Raya.”
The voice over her shoulder, so clear and controlled that it cut through the ambient noise, sounded familiar. She turned. “Nathan.”
Nathan crossed his arms. “That was quite a stunt you pulled at the opening presentation.”
Raya made a snap decision to brazen it out against his appraising gaze. “Of course it was. How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
His thick eyebrows rose. “It worked.”
“Not unless you tell me all your magical secrets. And skip the stuff in Witching Into the Dark—I have it memorized.”
Nathan barked a short, bitter laugh. “I’m flattered.”
Raya, sensing an advantage, barrelled on. “I haven’t even gotten started yet. What you wrote about summoning—you wouldn’t believe what I was able to do with it.” Raya picked up a wand from the table they were standing next to and weighed it in her hand.
He blinked, once. “Go on.”
Raya replaced the wand and drew him down the row of vendors by tugging on his jacket sleeve. “I had a real breakthrough. I encountered a demon, and boom! I banished him on the spot.” She left out the part where she later tried to rescue the demon, and the other part where the demon fell in love with her friend, but those weren’t the important parts.
At least, they weren’t the parts Nathan should hear.
“That’s very interesting,” said Nathan.
Raya watched his eyes as if she could follow the strange clockwork of his thoughts.
When he spoke, it was stilted but sincere. “I wrote it with the intention of guiding witches to accomplish that sort of thing. It’s gratifying to hear that it worked for someone.”
Raya nodded eagerly. “And then, I was able to conjure another demon and command it to do my bidding.” The fact that said demon’s name was Phoenix and he was currently accompanying her on shopping trips to Le Bon Marché remained unsaid.
No need to clutter the conversation with useless details.
“Impressive.”
Raya beamed. “Do you think so?”
His head tilted slightly as he appeared to be considering something, the motion almost birdlike when paired with his unblinking stare.
Raya held her breath so she wouldn’t be tempted to interrupt his thoughts.
“I’m taking a side trip tomorrow. A little bit of magic-seeking,” he said.
“You are?”
He nodded. “I already have an assistant, but … ”
Raya’s eyes widened hopefully.
“ … we could use a third witch,” he finished. “Would you be interested?”
Raya bit her lip and attempted to contain the wild glee bubbling up inside her. “Sounds very interesting. Where would we be going?”
“Hiking.”
“Hiking?” She did not intend for the word to come out in a high-pitched squeak. Mother Nature’s all well and good until a scorpion crawls up your pants. But Nathan was watching her, assessing her, and she had to be convincing. “Fantastic!” She pasted a smile on her face and hoped he bought it.
She would have suffered almost anything—scorpions included—for a chance to learn from the best.
“I’ll leave a copy of the directions for you at the desk.” He walked away without another word.
“Bye!” she called, doing her best to sound casual. She nonchalantly pivoted to the nearest table and grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands on, which turned out to be a book titled How to Trap a Demon. She flipped the pages without reading a word, waiting for Nathan to be out of sight.
When he was gone, she put the book down and did a happy dance in the aisle.
6
Phoenix wouldn’t tell her where he was taking her that night, only that it was a secret and he’d have to blindfold her before they got there.
“So you finally decided to impress me?”
“I’m beginning to think the blindfold won’t be enough. Maybe I should gag you, too,” said Phoenix, brandishing a folded cloth.
Raya grabbed at it, but he pulled it out of reach.
“Behave, witch.”
Raya subsided, her curiosity overwhelming the urge to tease the hell out of Phoenix.
“That’s better. I could almost get used to you like this. I’ll have to ply you with mysterious treats more often.”
“You make me sound like a pampered dog. ‘Sit, Raya. Wear this blindfold, Raya. Good Raya!’”
“That’s how witches treat demons, usually.”
Raya opened her mouth to fire off a retort, then shut it again. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Speaking of obeying, you’re going to have to follow a few rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes, rules. Rule one: you don’t carry your wand.”
“What—”
“Rule two: you don’t make any sudden movements.”
“But—”
“Rule three: you don’t speak to anyone except me, and then only if you absolutely must.”
“Are you serious?”
He shot her a look.
“You’re serious,” she said. She’d never seen him be serious about anything before.
They took the Métro away from the posh 7th arrondissement to a seedier neighborhood on the other side of the Seine, emerging from the station onto a sidewalk that was simultaneously wreathed in shadows and cut by the garish lights of neon signs.
Phoenix pulled her to the side and took out the blindfold.
She hesitated. “Phoenix, isn’t this a little weird? Putting on a blindfold and walking down the street?” Their interactions were all fun and games—until now. Banter, she could handle. Trust was another story.
“Are you afraid?”
She couldn’t read the faint edge in his tone, which made her even more nervous. Her lips pressed together. “Of course not,” she lied. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. This was nothing like their usual flippant exchanges. This was different, and it was making her uneasy.
She snatched the blindfold from his hands and positioned it over her eyes. “Let’s do this.” She felt his hands at the back of her head tugging the wand out of her hair.
He took the ends of the blindfold and tied them.
She couldn’t see. She felt his arm slip around her waist.
The leather they both wore slid together as they touched.
“Ready?” he said.
She nodded.
They walked side by side for a considerable distance. The noise of the passersby and the nearby clubs seemed amplified to the point of distortion.
>
Raya’s disorientation and apprehension increased.
A heavy-sounding door creaked. Raya stumbled over the threshold. The door closed behind her and muffled the sounds of the street.
“Stairs,” said Phoenix.
“You have to be kidding.” She reached her foot out and bumped a stair.
“One foot in front of the other.”
She took a hesitant step. “Is this where I get murdered?”
“Now would be a good time to practice rule three.”
They made it up the stairs. Another door creaked open, allowing the sounds of clinking glass and laughter to filter out to the landing where they stood. They crossed a second threshold and the room, whatever it was, fell completely silent.
Phoenix removed the blindfold. “Remember the rules,” he whispered.
Raya opened her eyes.
Demons.
Demons everywhere.
Some had tiny, delicate horns protruding from their heads. Others displayed massive feathered wings in a range of colors. Most were human-like demons with the appearance of male, female, or non-binary gender, but a few demons chose to look more traditionally demonic than human.
One demon looked like a combination of every nightmarish demonic trait humans had ever imagined: fangs, yellow eyes, ram’s horns, and muscles like oversized ropes.
All of them stared at her without speaking.
Raya’s mouth went dry.
Phoenix’s wings, the color of red velvet cake, unfurled behind him with a sound like two umbrellas opening. “Just play it cool.” He took her arm and led her toward the marble-topped bar.
The largest and scariest-looking demon blocked their path and addressed Phoenix with a rumbling growl. “Who said you could bring one of them here?”
“Back off, George,” said Phoenix. “Cosmo says it’s okay. Isn’t that right, Cosmo?”
A petite demon in a midriff-baring top and a tiny pair of shorts leaned over the bar. “That’s right. You got a problem with that, George?”
George hunched, making himself look smaller. “No problem, Cosmo.”
“Why don’t you buy the lady a drink and make up for your rudeness?” Her blunt-cut bob swayed as she tilted her head.
