Page 9 of Hex Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #7)

Max

S omething between them had altered, transformed into a burgeoning new energy. Max was aware of Tamsin on a whole new level; her every motion pulling him toward her, like the moon gravitating toward Earth.

Tamsin glanced at the black envelope she’d collected from the bed and moved her arm in a circle. A portal grew to life in her arm’s wake, and he admired how easily she did a magic so challenging, it demanded sacrifices from most practitioners.

Strangely, the other side of the portal appeared as if it was shrouded in black mist. “That doesnae seem normal,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not.” She checked the envelope again then shrugged. “It’s the right coordinates, though.” She handed him her invitation, and he tucked it away in his jacket pocket. “Have you got yours, too?”

He nodded, finding it oddly endearing that she thought to ask. Bloody idiot.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the portal and its cloaked destination. “Shall we?”

She stepped through, Max close on her heels, his temper igniting. The scent of pine and sap reached him first, along with a bite of cool air that rivalled the autumn winds near Loch Muick. But that was not what he was focused on.

“Are ye mad!? Ye should have let me go first,” he growled. What if she’d walked into a trap? The mere idea made him sick.

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Why would I do that?”

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head, sure he hadn’t heard her correctly. “I cannae die.”

Her wolf eyes glimmered slightly, as if amused. “Oh, yes, that. I’ll make sure and remember to use you as my human shield next time. It’s very kind of you to offer.”

He wanted to refute that, but he didn’t think it would be wise, since it was true: he had offered to be her ‘human shield’.

But he had no idea why she seemed to think she was infallible.

She was a powerful witch, sure, but a witch, nonetheless.

She could die, unlike him. The thought sat heavy on his heart, like a truth better left unacknowledged.

Tamsin looked around, clearly done with the conversation, and he followed suit. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “This is…a lot.”

He straightened the glasses on his nose, seeing the magic woven into the fabric of the stone path that led them into a darkened forest—a trail leading toward doom or salvation.

The tree canopy on either side of the walkway soared toward the sky, their branches grasping like fingers at the moonlight, silhouettes twisted and gnarled.

Flowers with purple bell-shaped petals lined the path, glowing slightly in his vision.

“Is this like the yellow brick road?” he asked.

“The what ?”

He just looked at her for a moment, sure she was joking, but she just stared at him, waiting for a response. “Right, I am old, ye are not,” he grumbled. “Ye made yer point.”

But honestly, who hadn’t heard of the yellow brick road?

Tamsin strode down the path, but he thought he saw amusement in the lines of her mouth as she turned away from him. Mist curled around her ankles as she walked, coiling up her calves like serpentine tongues tasting her skin. He never thought he’d be jealous of mist.

They’d only been walking a handful of minutes when they bumped into a young woman who skidded to a startled stop in front of them.

Her blonde hair was braided around her head, reminding him of a crown, and she wore a silver-blue gown that glittered with embellishments.

She was beautiful in the same way an ice sculpture was—something to be admired, but not touched; you risked frostbite if you dared.

Personally, he preferred brown-haired vixens whose touch threatened to burn him alive.

Max realized the blonde woman was staring at him, with eyes that saw more than just his physical form. It happened from time to time, when people encountered his kind for the first time. They sensed the death…but had no idea what or who he was.

He winked.

Her cheeks turned a faint pink in response.

He could feel Tamsin’s eye roll, even if he didn’t see it.

“Sorry to startle you,” she said. “Max has that effect.”

“No, it’s just…” The newcomer’s eyes turned vague, as if she were watching a show that only she could see.

“You okay?” Tamsin asked, a faint frown marring her forehead when he glanced her way.

“Yeah, I—sometimes I get distracted.”

But Tamsin’s expression smoothed knowingly. “You saw something.”

Max had followed their conversation like a spectator at a tennis match. But he finally caught onto the verbal undercurrent—they were both seers. And Tamsin was one of the best.

“I have the gift of sight,” the woman admitted, as if it were a secret being drawn reluctantly from the hidden depths of her.

“I knew it.” Tamsin snapped her fingers. “Takes one to know one.”

The woman blinked. “You have it too?”

Tamsin nodded with a sigh. “Fortunately…and sometimes unfortunately.”

“I’ve never met anyone else who could see what I see.”

“And what exactly did you see?” Max asked. Tamsin was always so secretive about his future, and he had a feeling this woman’s vision involved the two of them.

This time he saw it when Tamsin rolled her eyes. “This is Max. He’s half-dead, so that’s why his manners suck.” She held her hand out. “I’m Tamsin.”

Max blinked. He had excellent manners.

Except when yer around Tamsin.

Well, there was that.

“Kendall.” The woman raised her hand, then paused. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“Or maybe we should.” Tamsin grinned, the expression slightly wicked. Max swallowed, half-wishing that she’d directed that look at him instead.

Tentatively, Kendall put her hand in Tamsin’s and they shook.

Max looked through his glasses at their joined hands, but nothing happened. A faint glow of magic seemed to swirl around Kendall’s body before subsiding. Odd.

Tamsin grinned as they broke contact. “That was…interesting.”

Kendall frowned. “Wait. What? Did something happen on your end?”

“I think this is one vision I should keep to myself,” Tamsin said, shaking her head and making the beads in her hair clink together. She motioned for Max to start moving again.

“Is it… my death?” Kendall whispered, her face stricken, like she’d been struck by fate one too many times to expect anything good.

Tamsin turned back, her expression warm and kind, no doubt sensing the distress in Kendall’s voice. She’d never looked at him like that, he realized…and he realized then that he very much wanted her to.

“Not at all,” Tamsin said. “It’s your life. And by the way, she was right.” Her gaze flicked along Kendall’s silver-blue dress and then back up. “That dress really is a weapon in itself.”

“Wait, who…” Her voice trailed off, like she was remembering a conversation from another time.

Tamsin ushered Max along, careful to avoid touching him. But she turned back with a wave. “Enjoy your night, Kendall.”

“What the hell was that all about?” Max asked, after they rounded a bend and the blonde was hidden from sight. He glanced up at the sky, but it was hidden by the gnarled fingers of grasping trees.

“I can’t say,” Tamsin replied, her voice prim.

His eyes narrowed. “Cannae or willnae?”

“Both. Take it as professional courtesy.”

He grunted. “Funny how yer ‘professional courtesy’ dinnae extend to me.”

She gave him a mock pout and patted him on the shoulder. “Does that trouble your wee self?”

Oh, so now she knows Scots’ slang.

He stopped walking, with her following suit, and he leaned down to whisper near her ear, “There is nothing wee about me, Tam. I could give ye a demonstration if ye’d like.”

“That’s fine.” She waved a hand airily at him, but her cheeks darkened to a becoming rose. “I’ve already seen all you have to offer.”

He straightened. “Nae quite. But the evening’s still young.”

He hadn’t won that battle, but he didn’t mind. Why waste time on skirmishes when there was a war to be had?