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Especially since she’s got the energy of a dozen strongmen on steroids. And I’m only kinda sorta overreacting. I just wish she had more opportunities to learn like other witches her age do.
Sure, we have a few books she’s studying from. But the tutor only comes once a week for forty-five minutes. And that’s when Mrs. Cincinnati shows up on time. She’s a retired magic teacher and mother of five warlocks. Mages are her territory, so even though most of her spells are housework-related, it’s a start. And it’s not forever either.
Hopefully one day, I’ll find a place I can afford for us both, plus a better teacher. Then maybe I could make good on my wish to adopt her. I have to admit, though, I’m nervous at the thought of raising a supernatural alone, seeing as I won’t be any help when it comes to magic.
“He’s here!” Bo says, breathless and red-faced.
“Which set of stairs did you run up, young man?” Just yesterday, our good staircase lost a board halfway up. The kids now refer to it as BS2, not to be confused with BS1, the original broken staircase.
“BS1,” he replies. “Which I’ve never once gotten a sliver riding down or going up!” He shows me his hands and then his bottom. It answers my question before I have to ask it.
“What did I tell you about the banister?” My hands are on my hips, but now isn’t the time to point out how I’m becoming my mother. Universe rest her soul.
“No butt racing on the BS1 banister.” If Bo’s tone had an emoji, it’d be a sad face. A round, bespectacled sad face.
“That’s got a really nice ring to it,” I reply, then gesture for him to turn around and lead the way.
“But what if you’re really good?” he asks once we reach the hall, stomping his foot right through the first step of BS2.
Motherfucker, this place is old!I think, then breathe it away. Today is about showing off the place, not hating it. Argoss needs a reason to want to improve the orphanage. It’s how donations work. Which is what I’m hoping to achieve today, of course. Embarrassing as it is, a few flaws – okay, or maybe a few thousand – around the place are actually useful for once.
“See!” Bo says while pulling out his foot unscathed.
I fix the buttons of his checkered blue and white shirt, one of the two dressier pieces in his limited wardrobe that he hasn’t grown out of, hiding my frustration with a smile. This kid deserves more than two good shirts. And stairs that actually work.
“You’re a daredevil and a gifted one,” I begin, placing my hand on his shoulder. “It’s just, not everyone around here is. And since the kids look up to you, everyone’s going to be trying to pull a Bo.”
“Pull a Bo?” he asks, and I know I have his attention.
“But can just anyone pull a Bo?”
“No,” he says, his voice diplomatic rather than boastful. “No, they cannot.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I give him a wink and let him lead the way downstairs.
I notice Argoss immediately.Tall, dark, and handsome? I think, returning the smile he’s shooting my way as I reach out to shake his hand.More like tall, dark, and…
I can’t focus on finishing my funny and remain standing at the same time. His touch is that good. That warm and inviting. Well, his projection is, I guess, which is mere feet away from me and looking even better than last night.
“Felicity.” The timbre of his voice sends shivers down my back. “You look even better than you did at the fundraiser.”
“Yeah…” Graham’s squeaky voice observes. “You are wearing a lot of makeup now that I’m looking at you.”
Graham rubs his chin as the rest of my co-tour guides assemble at the base of broken staircase number two. Lucy, Bo, and Roland squint in my direction. I laugh it off while the faintest curl forms at the corner of Argoss’s mouth.
A smirk? Asmirk? What does a smirk mean?
I know now’s not the time to get all hot and bothered, but try telling your body that when it’s being sized up by a winged Adonis. He’s got the look of a young Rock Hudson after eating all the free weights at the gym. The image of me licking sweat off his chiseled biceps will linger in the back of my mind all day if I let it.
“Let’s just get this out of the way,” Lucy begins, and the rest of the kids encourage her. “What kind of hallucinations you got in there? Like can you just do anything? Make us think we’re seeing anything?”
She points to Argoss’s head, and the demon laughs. I can’t help but do the same.
“Like, if you were haunting this place or whatever,” Bo begins, gesturing to our crumbling farmhouse kitchen. “And we showed up, would we all see the same stuff if you demoned us?”
“Demoned?” Argoss’s laugh is genuine.
I don’t know if the proper terminology for a demon living somewhere is called a haunting, but the vibes I get from the unfriendliest of Argoss’s peers is that they love their space.
