Page 19 of Nix and Tell (The Arun Nixes #1)

19

Chlo

M y parents are fine with me dating Violet. They’re a bit weirded out by the whole mortal and a nix thing, I can tell, but they love me too much to protest. I’ve been lucky with Asher and Summer; they coped with my aversion to the river far better than most in our community would have, and when I went down the tailor route, they supported me unquestioningly.

Not all nix families are like that.

I pass Kit’s father and brother in the village, and Archie—her brother—gives me a look of disgust. Theo doesn’t even acknowledge me. He walks straight past me as if I don’t exist.

I’m not scared of them, but their reaction—or lack thereof—does make me uneasy. I haven’t seen them anywhere near Spellbound though, so I think Violet’s probably okay. They’re bigoted, not murderous.

The rest of the nix community seem to be torn. Some are happy to be led by Trisantona’s example, and accept Violet quite happily; others are cautious around her. Either way, there’s a lot of curiosity, and people visit her shop regularly.

It also means that I’ve taken on the security for our Spring Equinox celebrations. Finn looked completely nonplussed when I suggested it, but Hazel backed me up, and my Violet just looked slightly sad. We all know that we have to be careful, that a day out by the river endangers mortals if the nix community decide to be difficult.

I’m finishing up some alterations on a waistcoat when the door to Suited is kicked open. Literally. The nixes who enter I know by face, not by name.

“ Chloooooo …” My name is singsong in their mouths and I fight the rising anger inside me.

Taking a moment, I carefully finish off the stitching that I’m doing, before placing the waistcoat on my workbench and turning to face them. “How can I help?”

“You’re fucking a mortal,” one of them spits.

“Yes. And?”

There’s a pause. I don’t think that they realised that I wouldn’t deny it. I’ve let the wind out of their balloon—how are they going to beat the truth out of me if I’m upfront with them about it?

Not that anyone’s going to be beating me up. My fingers twitch and I can feel every bolt of fabric in the shop as if they’re a very extension of myself.

“People like you make me sick.” Their leader is a white woman, her scales a dark red against her neck. “You don’t know what’s best for you, what’s best for our society.”

Actually, I’m pretty certain that the last thing any society needs is a group of vigilante bigots running around. I pick the waistcoat back up and resume my work. There’s a scuffle amongst them, and I’m alert, waiting to see what their next move will be, all whilst serenely stitching.

Footsteps approach. I click my fingers. Footsteps stop.

There’s muffled yelling, and when I look up, I’m pleased to see that what I’d planned has worked perfectly. Scales flare as the five nixes try to shout, the sounds strangled by the material in their mouths; their forward trajectory halted by the rope wound round and round their legs.

“Now it’s my turn.” For once in my life, I let myself feel the anger that’s always below the surface bubble up and paint my voice with disdain. “I’m done pretending that I give a crap what any of you think. Stay away from me, stay away from Violet, and—fuck it—let’s throw my family in there for good luck. Leave us be.”

I let the material fall from their leader’s mouth. “Or what?” she spits.

I don’t answer. I just look at her.

As a rule, I’m pretty chilled out, but whatever she saw in my eyes frightened her. They left Suited without any of the bluster they’d had when they’d walked in.

I continued working on the waistcoat.

“Chlo?” Finn must have come in as they left, and she looked concerned. “What’s going on?”

I consider lying to her, but instead choose a half-truth. “Some people are being weird about me and Violet dating.”

“Seriously? I thought Wyrten was more progressive than that.” She thinks I’m talking about homophobia. I let her; it’s not like I can tell her about the secret community of river demons that she lives amongst. “It’s not exactly like either of you present particularly straight. Well, maybe Vi, but you’re a queer tailor. There’s a progress flag in the window and everything!”

She looks worried, and I realise that Finn might be my friend. It’s a surprising revelation, and the more I think on it, the more I realise that I actually have a whole host of friends now: Vi, Hazel, Finn, Marla, Kit—when she’s not pissed at me—it’s more friends than I ever truly expected to have.

“I don’t think that it’s something that we need to actively worry about; there are arseholes everywhere.” I’m attempting reassurance, but Finn is as visibly queer as Kit, and there’s concern in her eyes that goes beyond being a good friend. “No one’s coming after us; the village wouldn’t have any of it Finn, I promise.”

Finn nods, running her hand through the lilac of her hair, fingers brushing against her fade. “Okay; you had me worried for a minute there.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I could kick myself. I wish I had said anything now; the last thing I want is to make someone else feel uncomfortable. It’s bad enough that Vi’s on edge at the moment.

The rest of the day passes in relative quiet. I book in a couple of appointments for the following week—a trans lad wanting to get a suit tailored for his mum’s wedding, and a butch lesbian wanting to design a bespoke suit for her—and I try not to let my prickle of unease settle in under my skin. This is my home, my shop, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone throw me off-kilter.