Page 5 of Nix and Tell (The Arun Nixes #1)

5

Chlo

I don’t know what it is was that Violet was sensing, but I clearly needed the onyx beads encircling my wrist, because instead of turning right, I turn left and head onto the bridge. And when Trisantona steps out of the shadow of the church, I find myself more than grateful for them.

“There you are, my child.”

Ah.

Usually, I’m able to avoid the Goddess–she doesn’t usually come out during the day, and I’m not usually on the bridge late at night–but just my luck that she’s bored this evening.

At least, that’s what I assume. Who the fuck knows why Trisantona does anything.

I might not be a practicing follower, but like all the nixes connected to the River Arun, disobeying her feels… uncomfortable . She hasn’t given me an order yet, couched in a request, but I know one is coming.

“Won’t you come into my temple?”

There it is. A question that isn’t really a question. I incline my head and follow her back into the abandoned church that she’s taken for her own.

I don’t know if I remember it ever being used for its original purpose–the people of Wyrten Bridge aren’t exactly the good Christian types–but we were all content with it being the kind of building that made tourists go “ahhhh” and snap photos. None of us expected it to be turned into a temple.

A flick of her wrist and I hear the locks turn by themselves, before the doors creak open. Inside is nothing like any church I’ve ever visited.

The walls are completely overgrown with starwort, doing surprisingly well for a plant that usually only flourishes when partly submerged, and it makes me wonder about how much of the church is usually filled with the heartbeat of the river when us nixes aren’t inside.

The columns are covered in murals; languid brush strokes that dance up and up, and I realise that Hazel has been working here at lot more than usual. One of the Goddess’ acolytes, worshipping Trisantona through her art, in return for protection.

Protection.

My hand slides down to the bracelet Violet gave me and I’m taken aback when Trisantona whirls around, her eyes going straight to it.

“A present? From your beau?”

“From my… no, no. This is just from V–” I cut off, unsure whether I really want to tell the Goddess Violet’s name.

“From whom?” Her interest feels like pressure, and I find myself complete frozen, caught between fight and flight. “Clodagh, answer me .”

“Violet.” The use of my full name compels the sounds from my lips, and I glare at her. “Stop it. I don’t like that.”

Her laugh is full of gaiety, and when she steps forward, the light from the moon illuminates her.

Our river Goddess is full figured, as if the water was poured into a silhouette, and then just kept going. Rounded breasts and stomach and thighs that don’t fill me with desire in any way. She is abundance itself, just as a water gives life, so she does, and there’s a part of me that wants to fling myself into the river below us and drag as many souls to the deep as I can in her honour.

Trisantona has never asked that of us, but she doesn’t need to. It’s in our nature. And she’s never asked nixes not to murder innocent mortals.

“You’re afraid of me.”

I can’t lie, so I don’t speak. I just watch her warily.

“And you don’t like my river.” There’s a deep sorrow in her words, and I can’t tell if I actually want to soothe her concerns, or whether that’s just her magic.

“I don’t dislike your river; I just like plants better.”

She’s suddenly surprisingly close, her eyes peering at mine. I try not to think anything and stay perfectly still.

“You should court this Violet. Maybe she’d bring you back to me.”

Well, that’s not happening.

I don’t speak, but the refusal in my eyes must shine, because she laughs again and pats my cheek with something akin to affection.

“Oh look at you. You’re so independent .” She says the word as if it’s alien to her, and it does sound wrong on her tongue. “And you come from such a good family, as well.” My parents are exactly the kind of followers that all nixes should be. They work in the ecology centre, a good, water-focused job. They bring weekly offerings for the Goddess; though my family aren’t part of the drowning contingent, I’m glad to say. And they do as she bids without even the slightest murmur.

I murmur.

I murmur a whole damn lot.

“How about this?” She jumps up onto the stone altar, and as her arse touches the stone, water flows from her, like a babbling brook at its source. “You start following those urges of yours, or I’ll start intervening.”

“Urges, what–” I feel a cool hand pressed against my forehead, and I’m back in Spellbound earlier that evening, looking down at where Violet is on her knees at my feet. My body responds instinctively, my nipples tightening and I can feel my cunt clench. Her grey eyes meet mine and…

“ Those urges.” Trisantona’s voice is harsh, and in it I hear the violence of rapids. “You may refuse to bring me tribute, Clodagh, but I feel your eyes on my temple each night as the sun sets. I want your offering, and if you won’t bring me yourself, then I want the energy that longs to be set free.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I know what she’s asking for.

Sex.

More specifically, sex magic.

There’s energy in sex, more than just the kind that reportedly burns calories. There’s power in desire, and offering that up to a deity is supposed to be quite the tribute.

Only I don’t want to do that with Violet.

Not the sex bit–I’d love to feel her tight about my fingers–but taking her energy without her consent? It’s shitty. It’s unethical.

“You think your little witch has no power of her own?” Trisantona’s voice is echoing in the church, and the water at her feet ripples as if a giant is walking close by. “She has magic enough for a mortal. Speak to her if you must. Share of your nature. But bring me my offering .”

As she speaks those final words, I feel a compulsion settle over me, and with my next inbreath it is fixed.