Page 117 of Wicked Magik

I guess Veylor can be sweet when he wants to be too, asking for advice and all.

My ears twirled at the confession she dared not tell him.

Chapter 38

Vesper

The teacup clinked against the metal sink as I set it down, still warm and smelling faintly of whatever liquor Benedict had been sneaking into our evening tea lately.

I was softening toward Veylor.

Veylor left a bouquet of flowers outside our door one morning. The next day, it was pastries… still warm from the oven. I began taking walks with him around the grounds, letting Oryx trail behind us. It was a silent signal that I was beginning to trust the lich.

And the sexual tension…it was infuriating.

I was drawn to him, and I couldn’t understand why. It was always there, even in the beginning when he was an ass.

He always insisted on holding my arm as we strolled through corridors and along outdoor paths. He gently tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear when they fell into my face. The way he gazed at me from a distance was filled with longing, and it was tearing me apart.

Oryx was trying his hardest to make me see the good in Veylor, but he didn’t need to anymore. I was seeing it and hearing it in my own way. I just had to open my heart, just a little.

Even now, as I stood in the kitchen, Oryx and Veylor were in the laboratory arranging limbs and organs across the metal tables. Soon, Veylor would perform the ritual that would call souls back to these constructed vessels…giving new life to those who had perished because of his mistakes.

If I were on Earth, I would consider it unethical to revive a soul, believing that fate had decided their life was complete. However, here, my perspective shifted. I was more open to the idea, particularly because Oryx was the result of such a revival.

My sweet, innocent, and dirty talking monster that was infatuated with me.

Pieces of Veylor's past have been falling into place…fragments about the massacre he blames himself for. Oryx lets details slip during our conversations. Something about a ritual gone wrong, an unexpected fae appearing at a court gathering, chaos erupting before anyone could stop it.

Getting rid of the evil, bringing a new beginning.

The so-called "court system" remained a mystery to me, though Benedict had mentioned it wasn't worth my time to learn. According to him, the courts were merely a fancy name for territories that ruled over fae that had money and power. Now they weren’t ruled by anyone in particular; now there were elected officials.

The names of the territories have just remained the same out of tradition.

I wasn’t one for politics. I wouldn’t worry about it since it is now taken care of. But I did want to know what caused this big… massacre and what Veylor is fixing exactly.

I looked through the big window facing the rear of the property. From the corner of my eye, I noticed something near a large tree that resembled an oak, though this one had large blooms of black and gray flowers. A bright orange creature emerged from behind the tree’s dark bark, and my attention was instantly drawn to the striking contrast in colors.

I watched as an orange tabby cat stumbled into view.

While the cat came toward the window, its mouth opening and closing, like it was meowing, calling to me, the large primordial pouch swaying, reminding me of…

George.

The orange cat from the funeral home.

I squinted my eyes, watching the feline come closer and closer until it went out of view. Suddenly, the cat clawed its way up the stone and I saw two paws appear on the stone window’s ledge.

Big eyes stared at me and meowed helplessly.

This. Cat.

I wrestled with the rusty latch until the window finally gave way with a groan. The morning air rushed in, carrying George's desperate meows as he wriggled his plump body halfway onto the ledge, front paws scrambling for purchase while his eyes pleaded with me to complete his rescue.

“George is that you?”

It meowed again, looking completely defeated as I held him at arms length.