Nava Katz Box Set 2

by Deborah Wilde

  “Hey, title of your next album.” I grinned at him “Too soon? Okay, turn.” I maneuvered him into position so I could massage his shoulders. He was stiff as a board.

  “What are you going to do with the rest of your life?” he said.

  “Be happy. Continue to make a difference. I’ve been thinking a lot about the council and how maybe each person on it could have a portfolio, like a government cabinet. One person could be in charge of magic policy or government liaisons.”

  “What portfolio would you want?”

  I methodically worked on a knot in his neck with my thumbs. “None. I don’t want to get caught in politics and meetings. I want to work with young witches who are in danger of going off the rails. High-risk girls. I want to be a mentor like Baruch and Esther were for me and see these young girls flourish as they become the best versions of themselves.” I pounded my fist into my palm. “And if they don’t, I’ll take them into the demon realm and scare them straight.”

  Ro laughed. “Can you imagine Malik’s utter horror at being besieged by packs of teen girls?”

  “They’d probably romanticize him. He’d hate it. It’d be awesome.” The stubborn knot in Ro’s neck dissolved and I massaged his shoulders in slow circles. “You have a free day tomorrow, right? Let’s go on a date. You can wear your best ‘avoid reporters’ disguise, like a giant mustache and oversized hipster glasses. It’ll be super sexy.”

  “Count me in.”

  Ari played taxi so I could have my date in Vancouver. My hometown in the summer was beautiful, but autumn always felt like a special secret time to be a local, when leaves blazed gold and red, and the nip in the air meant it was time to switch to boots, skirts, and cute sweaters. I missed my city.

  We rented tandem bikes and cycled the seawall in Stanley Park for a couple of hours, stopping to take photos by the totem poles and at the lookout at Prospect Point with its stunning panorama of the Lion’s Gate Bridge, Burrard Inlet, and North Shore mountains.

  Afterwards we strolled back through downtown, taking the cute little ferryboat over to the Public Market at Granville Island, where we sampled all kinds of food, and then sat by the water sipping hot chocolate and listening to live jazz.

  I pointed across False Creek to the condos gleaming in the West End. “Let’s get a place there. Not on the water obviously, because I can’t afford that, but further inland. We’ll be close to Leo.”

  Ro laughed. “Money isn’t a problem.”

  “I’m not going to mooch off you and none of us are going to be paid for a while. I appreciate you letting me stay with you right now for free, but that’s not how I want this relationship to go.”

  “I own my house. I don’t need you to pay rent.”

  “Fine. But we’ll rent a place here, at least for a while, and that’ll be fifty-fifty.”

  He looked at me, his oversized reflective sunglasses blocking his expression. “Alright. But can I buy my girlfriend one of those cinnamon buns I smell baking?”

  “Duh. You can always buy me food.”

  “Good to know where the line is.” He pulled me up.

  We browsed in shops along Fourth Avenue, and later ate our body weight in Afghani food, sitting on cushions, with printed fabric billowing on the ceiling. For the date finale, I took him to Bard on the Beach, an annual Vancouver staple, watching a live Shakespearean comedy in a tent on the beach. I wouldn’t have changed a thing about the day.

  For his date, Rohan took me to the Port of Los Angeles, where the majority of L.A.’s container shipping occurred and where a lot of cruise ships docked. The surrounding “village” boasted an adorable boardwalk with an incredible view of the ships coming and going and a classic red trolley car that ran the stretch. It wasn’t a mini train, but it was close enough, and Ro got major points for taking me on it.

  “Nava!” Tiny arms flung themselves around my waist.

  “Benjy.” I scooped him up in my arms, pressing my cheek to his. He was in a Wonder Woman sweatshirt. I smirked at Ro. “Whatcha been up to?”

  Benjy told me in enthusiastic and precise detail about the insect camp he’d been at this summer. Eun Ha and Jung, his mom and dad, caught up with us.

  “Baruch spoke with us,” Jung said.

  “No more Rasha.” Benjy pushed his round glasses up his nose, looking, as usual, like an Asian Harry Potter.

  “How you feeling about that, dude?” Rohan said.

  “Dad says I can be an entomologist now.”

  I ruffled his hair. “You can be anything you want to.”

  We chatted for a few more moments, then his parents tried to get Benjy to leave.

  “I wanna stay with Nava and Rohan.”

  “I think they want to be alone,” Eun Ha said.

  Benjy scrunched up his face. “Why? I’m way more fun.”

  Rohan laughed. “You are. How about we come see you in a couple weeks? We’ll do anything you want.”

  “Disneyland!”

  Rohan glanced at Benjy’s parents, who nodded their approval.

  “Disneyland it is.”

  “Okay.” Benjy squeezed me one last time and wriggled out of my arms. “Bye, Nava. Bye, Ro.” With that, he was off and running, yelling over his shoulder to his parents that it was time for ice cream.

  Benjy was going to be fine. These initiates wouldn’t get to hunt, but some might still join us in the fight because there were still demons to track. And the rest would find their own purpose.

  We stuffed our faces at some of the choose-your-own seafood restaurants on the boardwalk and blew a small fortune on pinball at a local arcade, hanging out in the sun and the salty breeze until night fell and the boardwalk lit up with hundreds of fairy lights strung around the palm trees.

  Ro bundled me in his leather jacket. “Two perfect days. No paparazzi, no fans, and best of all, no demons.”

  “That sounds perfectly dull.” Malik stood there in tailored black pants and a sweater that fit him like a glove, a black scarf slung jauntily around his neck. If he ever decided to unleash himself on us, humanity wouldn’t stand a chance. Men and women both would tear each other apart for the chance at his affections. A term I used very euphemistically.

  Rohan groaned. “Can’t you go be evil somewhere else?”

  “You two show a real lack of respect considering I could destroy you without breaking a sweat.”

  “We’ve seen you drunk and in yoga pants,” I said. “It takes away the fear factor.”

  I lied. Inside, I was screaming and flailing around in terror. Malik had muted that ancient sentience of his, but I sensed it in my bones on some primal level, even more so because I didn’t have a shred of magic to protect myself with.

  He glanced down at his trousers. “Those were leisure pants.”

  “If you say so,” I said brightly. “To what do we owe this visit?”

  “Walk with me.”

  I glanced at Ro, who raised his eyebrows.

  “This is a private walk. I’ll return her unharmed. Probably.” Malik grabbed my arm and led me away.

  Keep breathing.

  “You really did it this time,” he said.

  “It couldn’t be helped.”

  His stare pierced my soul. “You sure?”

  We sidled around a large family laden with multiple strollers.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Take your pick. Mandelbaum’s demon face ripple, a giant rift, a fifty-foot Maliligog, the cat was out of the bag.”

  “Why would I care about that?”

  “Because emon-days aren’t ecret-say anymore.”

  “Ugh. You are the worst.” Malik smiled at a passing couple, full wattage. Hard to tell who blushed harder, the dude in the trucker ballcap or his wife in her Confederate flag sweater. “Do you know how much fear you’ve created? It’s delicious.”

  “You’re welcome. Then why are you all bent out of shape? The cyclops demons? That was Gog and Magog. Those two went for them like mini quiche at one of those really boring reception
s where it’s taken ages for any kind of food to come out and—”

  “Stop.”

  “Not them, either?” I snapped my fingers. “The wards. Again, nothing to do with me. Once magic had been cleanly divided again, they reset on their own. Sucks for all your minions who are going to have a harder time getting through.”

  Malik leaned in toward me, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Do you wish to continue?”

  “Not particularly,” I muttered. “What’s this about then?”

  “Lilith.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, oh, that. You killed her.”

  “It wasn’t a solo effort. Also, how did you think this was going to end? I wanted Satan’s blood to get her out of me. It wasn’t so I had a doubles partner for tennis.”

  “Did she die well?”

  I moved over to the wooden railing. “Are you asking if she died with dignity?” Did that matter to demons?

  “I’m asking…” He clenched the railing. “How was she in those last moments?”

  “The Lila you loved was gone. She was a twisted ball of magic and rage. Killing her was a mitzvah.”

  “How convenient.”

  “No. Believe it or not, killing her was harder than when I killed the human who’d murdered Esther. I’m descended from her, that part was true, and in many ways, I saw myself in her. Both the woman I want to be and the one I narrowly avoided becoming. It was the right decision, but it wasn’t an easy one.”

  We stood side-by-side, staring out at the water.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I expected his pat answer that he looked forward to it.

  Malik studied me, a serious expression on his face. “I don’t know.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and flashed me one last dangerous grin. “I guess we’ll just have to see, petal.”

  Rohan jogged up to me, watching Malik walk away. “Everything okay?”

  If it wasn’t, there was nothing I could do about it now. “Yeah.” I linked arms with him. “Let’s go home.”

  28

  There was one thing stressing me out after our fabulous dates: what to give Rohan for his twenty-fourth birthday on September 24th. His champagne birthday. What could I possibly come up with in the next two days for the man who could buy himself anything, yet wasn’t particularly materialistic? I spent a lot of time online while he was out hunting, but the internet failed me hard. I wasn’t going to buy him a tie or a taco holder, a sexy surprise was a regular weeknight, and cooking him dinner wouldn’t be a gift for either of us.

  Inspiration hit the night before his birthday. I’d accompanied Ro to the venue where he was having his release party. It was cool checking out the space with him, even better seeing Maya again. Not so cool hiding in the ladies’ room while the two of them had another fight about Rohan quitting hunting for good, since the album was recorded and he should tour it.

  Ro had been in such a state that he’d actually agreed to let me drive Shelby.

  “Kane doesn’t care that his magic is gone,” Ro said. “He’s still fighting without fighting.”

  “True.” Much as I wished I could see his face and understand where this conversation was going, I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road. This was my first time driving in Los Angeles, which was nerve-wracking enough without worrying that I could crash his baby. I had no doubts where I ranked in his affections. It was a close second, but still.

  “Ethan is dead, Zander is dead, and so’s Bastijn. Half the men I fought with no longer have magic and are re-evaluating what their lives mean. Or maybe they’re happy that they get to actually have lives. Live as long as the next guy.” He twisted around to face me. “Does fighting the good fight mean banishing darkness or can it mean adding light?”

  “Can’t it mean either? Or both?”

  “Being part of that flame, that light, when we fought Lilith? It was a profound experience for me.” I flicked my eyes sideways to catch his distant, dreamy smile. “I used to have these moments on-stage when the entire audience was singing along with a song, and there was this sea of rapt faces. It wasn’t about the adulation. It was that I’d put something good into the world. Something that made people happy and maybe even added some meaning to their lives.”

  “Do you want to stop hunting?” I said.

  “Would it bother you?”

  I smiled at him. “Not a bit. I’m all for you living in the light again, Rohan, and letting your music illuminate the world. Whatever you decide is fine by me, but your mom is going to be a tough sell if you don’t give it up.”

  “With so many Rasha out of commission for good and the witches not at our level of experience yet, I plan to stay in the game. It just won’t be my entire life anymore. I’m a hunter and I’m a musician and I’m ready to be fully both again.” He rested his cheek against the window. “I just wish she understood that.”

  That’s when it hit me. I couldn’t take away Ro’s burdens, but maybe I could make him forget them temporarily.

  I put my plan into action the next morning. “Up and at ’em, birthday boy.”

  Ro reached for me. “Do I get to pick my present?” he purred.

  “Nope. I have things to do.” I gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “This birthday sucks,” he grumbled.

  “Well, you’re old now. Twenty-four.” I clucked my tongue. “It’s all downhill from here. Get used to it. ’Kay. Bye.”

  I didn’t return until almost dinnertime, loaded down with packages. “I brought Thai!”

  Ro padded out of the kitchen with a beer. “Want some help? Ooh. You went to Kin Kao.”

  I handed him the take-out bag. “Among other places. Spent a small fortune in Lyft fees.” I put our dessert in the fridge and my other purchases on the table. Ro tried to peek in the gift bag but I slapped his hand away. “After dinner.”

  The meal was incredible: spicy soft-shell crab, fragrant pineapple rice, and savory beef noodle soup. Our banter was light-hearted, though my leg was jiggling. What had been a brilliant gift idea last night seemed really stupid now.

  “Cake,” I trilled.

  Ro loved his Batman ice cream cake. He ate two pieces and didn’t even share.

  “You didn’t finish your piece,” he said, sneaking another sliver. “What gives? Are you breaking up with me? Because that is totally shitty to do after Batman birthday cake.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You’re stuck with me. It’s just…” I fiddled with the zipper of the hoodie that he’d given me after the fire. “Meet me in the tap studio in five minutes.”

  I took the gift bag and bolted.

  When Ro arrived, I’d paired his hoodie and my flowy mini skirt with my new Jason Samuel Smith Bloch tap shoes. They didn’t compare to the custom taps from Rohan that I’d lost, but they were good shoes.

  “You’re going to dance for me?” Rohan said.

  “For your first present.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “I like the sound of that.”

  I pointed to the middle of the floor. “Sit. And don’t say anything until I tell you to.”

  My iPhone was already in the dock. I hit play and the opening strains of Bobby Darin’s “More” came on. I’d first heard this song when I was a teen during a summer boot camp that taught us classic tap combos and I’d sworn to one day dance to it for someone I loved.

  Bobby sang about a love that was more than the greatest love the world had ever known and how he lived to love this person more each day, all to this jazzy up-tempo swing.

  At first, I was kind of hesitant—the cheesiness potential was high—but when I snuck a glance at my boyfriend’s face to find it lit up as he followed my progress around the floor, I threw off all my inhibitions and danced my heart out. My smile grew larger and larger as I let out every single iota of my giddy adoration for him, from the way his head bobbing got more intense the more he liked a song, like now, to the dozens of tiny ways he took care of me, especially when he was all grumpy about them, to his wicked sense
of humor and intelligence. With steps as light as air, I wrapped Ro in my dancing, twirling around him.

  Saucy trumpets underscored Bobby’s celebration of his love, and as the song built to its final crescendo, I busted out a flurry of one-footed wings, because Rohan made me want to soar.

  Bobby sang his closing line of how no one could ever love this person more and the final notes crashed into silence. Chest heaving, I threw the hoodie off, leaving me in a pink bra dotted with tiny sparkly hearts that I’d bought off Raquel earlier.

  Ro whistled. Then did a double take at the snowflake tattooed over my heart.

  “I wanted to have some skin in the game,” I said.

  He stood up slowly, gingerly tracing the tattoo through its clear breathable band-aid. “Can I say something now?”

  I nodded.

  His mouth crashed down on mine, all frenetic heat. I abandoned myself to its demands, the kiss hard and aggressive.

  Our tongues tangled and my brain lit on fire, devoured by this all-consuming kiss. I curled my hand around the back of his neck, my fingers threading through his silky locks, and pulled him closer. I nipped his bottom lip, his stubble a shivery rasp.

  Rohan hiked my legs around his waist, walking us backward until I was pressed into the wall, trapped there by his hips. He nodded at the tattoo. “It’s going to be sensitive so if I’m hurting you, tell me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He arched into me, and a coil of dark, lush desire snaked down to my toes. His lips drifted down my throat, his tongue dragging against my skin.

  I gave a helpless moan and clutched at his biceps.

  “Nava.” My name tripped off his tongue with a sultry groan. “Fuck, I love it when you make noise.” He palmed one breast, pulling a gasp out of me.

  My eyes slid shut and I raked my nails along the ridged planes of his abs.

  Rohan grabbed my greedy, grasping hands and pinned them above my head. He claimed my mouth again, biting, sucking, marking me.

  My body pulsed. The fiercest surge of magic paled against the power of this kiss.

  “Second present,” I gasped. “In bag.”