Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(18)
Vi shot Rose a pleading look. “Do you hear this? Previous step. This step. And now a next step. Rose, I’m officially at my limit. If this keeps up, that supernova incident will be nothing compared to what’s about to go down.”
Vi’s purple-and-gold Magic swirled through the room, lifting everyone’s hair and making Olive lose her place in her book.
The youngest triplet let out an annoyed sigh until magically charged crackles popped in the air. She jumped up from the chair, which moved from the wind force now that she wasn’t sitting in it. “Son of a witch’s tit…”
Vi was about to go supernova.
Rose sent an apologetic look to Mr. Librarian. “Sorry, Mr.…”
“Rogers.” He pulled his tweed jacket closer as it flapped in the magical windstorm.
“Mr. Rogers, I think that’ll be all for today.”
“But the Prima—”
“Doesn’t want her home blown to magical smithereens, which is what will happen once Vi reaches her breaking point. Trust me. You don’t want to be in the vicinity when things combust.”
He scowled before packing up a laptop and what looked to be a million thick manila files. “Fine. But I’ll be sending a notice to Prima Maxwell. She hired me to do a job, and I won’t be blamed for not doing it. It’s my reputation as a Magical Fixer on the line.”
“Or a masochist,” Vi muttered.
Rose shot her sister a stern glare before glancing back to the skittish man. “Thank you for understanding. I’ll make sure the Prima understands as well.”
He hustled away, only looking back to throw a seething glare at Vi. Her sister looked as though it took all her willpower not to stick her tongue out at him.
Once they were alone, the magical windstorm slowly died, but not without making them all look as though they had stood in the middle of a tornado.
Rose smoothed her hair back to rights. “Seriously, Vi?”
Violet grabbed a stack of what looked like baseball trading cards, except instead of uniformed major leaguers, immaculately dressed people smiled from the pictures … some alone, others grouped by couples. “Do you see this? Flash cards, Rose! He brought his very own, so excited you’d think this was a mint-condition Yogi Berra or Babe Ruth. This”—she shook the cards—“is what my life has come to … and then he has the audacity to tell me I’m not trying!”
“Well, are you?” Rose popped up a single eyebrow.
Vi tossed her hands in the air. “Of course I’m not! After all, I oh so enjoy feeling like an epic failure. This is impossible. Magic fucked up. I’m no more a Prima Apparent than that male writer guy who writes sad stories is a romance author.”
“Magic doesn’t misdiagnose, Vi. You’re not paying attention.” Rose held up the top flash card of vampire Count Dimitri and his consort, Lady Nishat. “Dapper Dimitri and Nice Nishat. Dimitri has his hands in the New York fashion scene, and Nishat is the host of the morning show Wake Up with Fangs. Dapper Dimitri. Nice Nishat. Repeat it after me.”
Vi muttered the alliteration trick and dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. “Why can’t I spell myself a memory charm to help me with this crap? It seems like an easy fix … instantly match faces to names. No need for studying. No worry of embarrassment.”
“Until you throw a spell and a vampire thinks you’re slinging hexes around and gets all fangy. And then at the first sign of fangs, shifters go on the offensive and sprout fur … or scales. And immediately after that, witches and warlocks will hurl Magic into the mix and all the Norms will trample each other to death to get away from the scary and out-of-control Supernaturals. Would you like me to continue?”
“When you say it that way it sounds bad,” Vi muttered before snapping her fingers excitedly. “I know! We can wear those nifty little ear mic things and you can feed me the names!”
“And when I’m not around? You need to learn the names eventually, which is obviously why Gran hired Mr. Librarian … er, Mr. Rogers.”
“But I wouldn’t need Mr. Librarian if you take me up on my wing-witch offer. You’d forever be standing at my side.”
A small part of Rose wanted to say yes, be done with it, and move on. It was the easy answer to the question What Will She Do with Her Life? To have a place and a purpose. To have a job where she made a difference. To have—and feel—meaning.
But what Violet suggested didn’t feel like her meaning.
“Rose…” Vi’s sympathetic eyes narrowed as she reached for Rose’s hands. “I want you to be happy. Olive and I both do.”
“And once I find my thing, I will be. Trust me, I’m not squandering this second chance. And please know I’m not saying this to be mean, but this…?” She held up the flash cards. “This isn’t my life anymore. This is all yours, sis.”
“Bwitch.” Vi heaved a couch pillow at her with a laugh.
Rose caught it and dropped next to her. “You’re welcome.”
They all chuckled.
“Where were you when I sent off the SOS?” Vi asked. “I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?”
“I got myself in trouble.” Rose’s cell dinged and she read the message from her Ryde supervisor, James. “Strike that … I got myself fired.”