Page 199 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

It’s almost unnerving how relaxed he seems about all this.

No strange powers have surfaced. Yet. But I can sense it. A quiet hum of innate energy just beneath the usual glow of his aura. A sort of golden halo, ever-present around him since he came back to life. I was honestly a little wary of him, the first few days, but for all intents and purposes he’s still my Damien. The Stag God kept his word.

“Why are you so nervous about this flight, anyway?” Damien asks me, bringing me back to the here and now. “Isn’t this way below your paygrade?”

“Damien, do you know how much an internationally prepped airplane weighs?”

“Nope!” he says, grinning. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Hundreds of thousands of pounds.”

“Wow. Cool.”

“It shouldn’t be able to fly.”

“No?” he teases, leaning toward me. “Weird. I thought a witch wouldn’t be so overly concerned with the science of aerodynamics or the engineering of air-worthy vessels.”

“Hundreds. Of thousands. Of pounds,” I reiterate.

“Yep. Heard you.”

“Hurdling through the sky.”

“Uh huh.”

“At five hundred miles per hour.”

“And over thousands of miles of ocean!”

“Oh fuck me,” I whimper.

“I’m kidding,” he says with a laugh. “Babe, come on. Seriously. You’re safer on an airplane than you are in a fucking rideshare, alright? And do you really think my sidekick is just going to sit back and watch if the plane goes for a nosedive into the sea?”

I nibble on my lower lip and sigh. “I guess not,” I say hesitantly.

“Right. We’re safe as fuck,” he says. “Plus, I got business class, so you can sleep through most of the flight. AND there’s Wi-Fi on the plane, so you can make sure Oren isn’t burning down your shop while we’re gone. And I mean. We’re going to fucking Tokyo. Cheer up!”

He pulls me into his lap and buries his nose into the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply. I kiss his forehead and lean mine against it. I’ve been trying to soak up every moment of physical affection that I can with him. Trying to commit it all to memory.

He leans back to look at me, curling a lock of my hair around his index finger. “I really do love your natural hair color,” he says blissfully. “I’m glad you’re still wearing it.”

I smile, stealing a quick kiss. “Enjoy it while you can. I’m already getting bored of it.”

“I’m sure whatever you pick next will be even better.”

“Simp,” I tease.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says with a sharp grin.

A calm voice comes over the speakers, informing everyone at the gate that business and first class are welcome to begin the boarding process. I look at Damien, not sure if that means us. He beams at me. “Let’s grab our seats,” he says.

I stand from his lap, and he grabs both of our carry-ons, my blanket and my oversized bat plush with ease.

“Do you want me to carry something?” I ask.

“Pft. No,” he says. “You’re the guardian of the tickets, remember?”

“Right,” I say, reaching into my hoodie (his hoodie) pocket and producing the two perforated pieces of card stock. We make our way to the gate and I hand off the tickets to a pretty Japanese woman who gestures us through the doorway with a graceful hand, wishing us safe travels. We make the slow journey to our seats and Damien stows our bags beneath our chair... er... bed things before handing me my bat plush and my blanket.