Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(90)

So I went on. “I’m nuts. I’m kookier than kooky. I’m materialistic. I’m a klutz. I make stupid decisions. I have a big ass. I’m a designer-label whore.” I paused. “By the way, that shirt looks good on you.”

He kept staring at me.

I carried on. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing half the time. I know that high heels are going to ruin my back and my knees one day but I keep wearing them. I don’t limit my carbs. I don’t count calories. I don’t go past six weeks before getting my hair retouched. Ever. Some people take vows of chastity or poverty, I take vows of highlights. I once sold my plasma so I could afford to highlight my hair.”

Perhaps I was going too far with these revelations?

He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest.

Stupidly, I kept speaking. “I never leave the house without at least lip gloss. I think Madonna is a genius. I’d rather study a face painted by Kevyn Aucoin than stare at the Mona Lisa. Why? Why on earth do you like me? It doesn’t fit.”

If he gave me The Chosen One crap or something like, “you make me laugh” I was going to pack it all in and move back to America, I swore to the goddess.

But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything.

“Ash, I really need to know.”

And to my surprise, he answered.

“Because your hair is soft and you smell like oranges and jasmine.”

Er… what?

“Oranges?” I asked.

“Yes, oranges. And because you’re always doing something, trying something or learning something. You never complain of being bored and are always using your mind and your body, even if the results aren’t exactly perfect.”

That’s, um… nice.

I think.

He kept going. “And you have tremendous courage and such a strong personality and sense of compassion that people connect with you instantly.”

Oh.

Wow.

He stepped toward me. “And you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and I like that, even with everything going on, I see that smile often.”

“Mathilda!”

Oh shit!

My mother was shouting at me from the somewhere close, too close.

I can’t believe it.

Why?

Why did the gods conspire against me?

“Ash… I can’t…”

The fingers of one of his hands slid into my hair while his other hand grabbed my waist and gently brought me forward. “You’re extraordinary and I want to… ” And then his mouth came to my ear and finished saying what he wanted to do, exactly what he wanted to do and he went into some detail.

My belly melted.

“Now, that would be a nice birthday gift,” I breathed.

“I’ll consider it for your next birthday,” he said.

Oh my.

“Mathilda!” Mom again.

“So, you like the shirt?” I asked, my fingers toying with a button.

He touched his lips to mine before he said, “No, Mathilda, I love the shirt.”

I took in a breath.

“I don’t want you to die for me,” I blurted.

His thumb traced my ear.

“I don’t intend to die for you.”

I nodded. “Good.”

Finally, we were on the same page!

“But I will if I have to.”

Ack!

And he walked away, back down the steps.

And I watched him.

“Mathilda!” Mom screeched.

“Coming!” I screeched back.

Boy was I in trouble.

16 August

Fay was the one who brought me the information. Her faerie had heard it from a vampire who got it from a warlock. Not exactly primo info but we’d had nothing to go on for ages.

Locked tight – the world of the paranormal. No one talking and everyone waiting for war to break out before they picked sides.

(Still not heard from BecBec or why I couldn’t understand a word she said and everyone apparently talked loads to their faeries.)

I didn’t know what to do with the info because I didn’t believe it.

Not.

One.

Word.

Fay didn’t want to tell me but she also didn’t want me not to know. But we all knew we had to follow every lead, no matter how crazy it sounded.

And this one was Crazy with a capital “C”.

Althea and I were coming back from our shifts at The Dozen when she helped me make up my mind that I should pursue it.

(Just to prove it wrong.)

Althea was pulling herself out of the Mini when she said, “Tonight’s the night, lass.”

I was surprised.

“Did Fay tell you?” I asked.

“Nope, had a vision.”

“I thought…”

“No, no… years ago, before they took it away. I remember most of my visions and the dates. Yes, even as old as I am,” she said waving away the disbelieving look I gave her. “I saw you watching them, both of them… all of them.” She paused and looked at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I shook my head. “I never know what I’m doing.”

We were making our slow way into The Gables. We’d decided to limit Althea’s shifts to two hours. She was drinking far less these days and had less of an attitude but she was still older than the hills and beginning to act it.