Cracked and broken, like its face
Beware the raven’s false pretense
It’s your doom the heart portends
A spark to cast the flame of life
A blade to cut through mist and strife
A cup to know your heart’s desire
A coin to pay to build the pyre
What rises shall fall
What lives shall burn
When magick is free
The darkness returns
“I’ve been staring atthatuplifting passage for two straight hours.” I close the notebook and put my head back on the table. “I know this is important, but seriously, Kirin. My eyes are starting to bleed, and if I don’t take a break soon, I swear I’ll be speaking in rhyme.”
“In that case.” Kirin stands up, his grin mischievous. “Why don’t we get out of here for the rest of the day? Get some fresh air, go out and play?”
“No.” I cover my head and groan. “No, please tell me you didn’t just—”
“Your eyes are tired, your brain is mush. What better time to get off your tush?”
“Stop! Now my ears are bleeding too!”
“Air magick awaits, and practice you must. ‘Cause what if this prophecy thing is a bust?”
“Kill me. Kill me now.”
“Spend too much time with your nose in the books, and everyone will… give you… dirty looks?” His grin falls away. “Okay, no idea what happened there. I swear I had it.”
“Oh, Kirin. Let’s hope your air magick game is stronger than your rhymes.”
“I’ve got some pretty dope-ass rhymes in my collection. I’m just not ready to share them yet.”
“Thank the Goddesses for that.” Laughing, I stare at the stack of notebooks teetering between us. “This feels… impossible. I mean, I know it isn’t. I know we have to keep working on it. But it’s…”
“I mean it, Stevie.” He comes around to my side and holds out a hand. “All of this will be here tomorrow. Let’s get out of here. Just for today.”
“You know what this is, right?” I glance up at him and smile. “This is your Dirty Dancing moment.”
“What’s a Dirty Dancing moment?”
I press a hand to my chest, aghast. “Kirin Weber! Tell me you’ve seen Dirty Dancing?”
“I’ve… heard of it? I think? It’s the movie about the baby in the corner, right?”
“Did you grow up in seclusion?” I give him a brief rundown of the plot. “Then there’s all this frustration and sexual tension and Baby can’t learn the dance moves, and she’s having a meltdown about how they’ve been cooped up inside, then Johnny’s all, hey, let’s get out of here. So he takes her to this watering hole to practice, and they end up getting all sexy and wet and the whole thing is just epic.”
“Clearly my film education leaves much to be desired. But if you say so, then yes, this is my Dirty Dancing moment.” He’s still holding out his hand in invitation. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Just so you know,” I warn, taking his hand, “we’renotgetting wet. Not unless you buy me lunch first.”
