A Flicker to a Flame (Mosley Coven)

Eight

EIGHT

CATO

Old brittle bones turned to dust

M osley magic is stronger than wind and rain in the right hands — and mine have been crafted for this purpose. Generations of Mosleys have made my tongue a sharp knife. I feel intention in my chest, words fill my throat, and once they’re ready, I open my mouth to set them free. But it’s not my magic that I bring to life on that dance floor. While Xavier and I hold one another, I find the tiniest spark of like-to-like in his chest and coax it forward. Wet tongues sliding together. Hearts beating in unison. Sealing it with a kiss.

Easy.

But witches can only give birth to magic. Once it’s in the world, our spells take on a life of their own.

You know that feeling when your heart skips a beat for no reason? When a pit opens in your stomach out of nowhere? That’s old, old magic working on you from the inside out, pointing you toward whatever is meant for you. My own magic set me in the direction of this bar and now I know why. I’ve been dreaming about leaving Mossville for years, but the Ancestors made me wait until tonight. Until Xavier. And that’s not just Mosley magic.

I forget that there are other people in the room with us. I forget everything that isn’t the gentle slide of my tongue against Xavier’s or his hand caressing my bare back. I forget that there was ever a moment before this one. I’ve never felt another person’s heart beating in time with mine — not even David’s. Whatever happens, I’ll never forget how safe I feel in this moment where I am only myself.

Not my mother’s son.

Not the eldest Mosley child.

Not the keeper of our family legacy.

Only Cato for the first time ever.

The music changes abruptly and the peaceful solitude I’d carved for us inside my sister’s magic fades. We find ourselves back in Fredi’s raucous devotional. Xavier and I pull away from one another only to be pushed back together again. The music and mood have changed — faster, writhing, humid, alive. We hold onto one another for safety and stability.

But the thing that catches in my mind — the thing I know I’ll remember on my last day — is Xavier’s smile, small and shy, as if it feels foreign on his mouth.

His tongue slides over his lips. His eyes shift from left to right before he speaks. “C-can we go outside?” he asks, his voice a heated whisper.

“Please,” I laugh, just as someone bumps into my back and pushes me into Xavier’s body. He holds me tighter. Closer.

You can always come back home.

I hear mama’s voice and turn my head in that direction, expecting to find her glaring at me from the crowd. But there’s only the sweaty horde, moving together to a beat my sister created.

It’s Xavier who takes the lead this time, pulling me through the crowd.

“Where the fuck did all these people come from?” he yells over his shoulder.

Just as his question reaches me, a bright flash of purple appears in the corner of my eye. I turn to find Fredi atop a table, dancing like she’s succumbed to her own magic. “I have an idea,” I sigh as Xavier cuts a path forward.

It takes long minutes for us to make our way off the dance floor. We stop just in sight of the exit to catch our breaths and wipe the sweat from our brows. A woman pushes into the room through the swinging door under the crude sign, holding bottles of liquor tight in her arms. I watch as the cloudy liquid inside the bottles transforms into liquor so clear and potent, I can see straight through.

Xavier grabs my hand and pulls me forward again. Our fingers twine together as we slip through the door into whatever lies beyond.

I was expecting a storeroom, but Xavier and I rush into a dark hallway lined with bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling at regular intervals, leading the way toward another rough exit sign, this one illuminated by two wrought iron sconces shaped like the Sun and the Moon. Along the hallway are doors on either side, some open, some closed; none of them are any of my business.

“There,” I whisper, nudging Xavier forward.

I hear him gulp, but he moves without a fuss.

The music fades as we move down the hallway in slow, careful steps. Xavier stops before the first open door to peer inside, and I lean forward to look around him. We stare into a storeroom full of boxes on one side. The next open door is full of dusty bottles of rotgut.

We’re halfway down the hall when the lights begin to flicker on and off. Xavier’s steps slow, and I swear I can hear our hearts pounding against our chests.

It’s too dark. Too quiet.

“Who are you?” An unknown man’s voice pierces the quiet out of nowhere. His voice is deep and husky, dripping in confusion and lust.

Xavier jumps back into me, and I hold him around the waist for a second before taking the lead. He tries to object, but I soothe his nerves with a soft touch across his chest. I take cautious steps toward the doorframe to my right. When I’m close, I lean forward, peeking around the frame into what looks, at first, like another dark storeroom. But then the dead lamp blinks on and light glints off my sister’s gold earring.

Billie’s pressed up against the far wall, limbs wrapped around a shirtless man, holding him in a tight embrace. I pull back quickly, hating even to think of my little sister in this way. The man — her man — starts to speak again, but his voice is too low, too gentle for me to hear his declarations of love. I’ve never been more grateful. But then my sister’s familiar laughter caresses the silence.

“Don’t worry about that right now, baby. Not yet,” she croons, and I shake my head, trying to dislodge her words and the gentle purr of her voice.

Xavier’s hand settles on my lower back. “What’s going on?”

I reach for him with my left hand and hold on for dear life as I rush forward. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

I pull Xavier past that doorway with a quick glance inside from the corner of my eye. It takes a fraction of a moment, but I feel Billie’s gaze move in our direction, heavy and pulsating.

“What?” her man says. She shushes him with a gentle nudge. Then Xavier and I jump as the door slams behind us.

“Who was that?” Xavier asks, pressing against my side.

“My sister.”

“Do you need to, like…help her?”

I force myself to laugh, but the magic I felt in that room has made the hair on my arms stand on end. “If there’s a day Billie needs my help, it hasn’t come yet. Let’s go.” I reach for the handle while it’s still out of reach, wrapping my fist around the cool metal and pushing it open.

Xavier and I stumble outside into a surprisingly neat clearing behind the building that butts up against the edge of yet another forest. I have half a second to wonder if these woods are connected before bright lights in the sky yank my attention upward. Xavier walks into the clearing and breathes deep while I marvel at the lightshow above us.

My sisters’ magic is swirled together above the bar, bright purple and warm brown, twisting with a pale gray smoke. But where my sisters’ magic is concentrated above us, the pale gray is…everywhere — flowing through the wooden beams holding the rickety building together, hovering above ground and sinking into the grass. And when I look toward the forest, I can see it flowing through the rustling leaves. This, I realize, is the magic that brought us here.

I don’t know what kind of saloon The Witch’s Snatch is, but it’s not quite as mundane as I believed. No, this place is made of old rootwork, something older even than Fiba’s magic.

“I wish I could stay here,” Xavier whispers, pulling my attention back to him.

And when my eyes settle on his dark figure, I can see my own yellow magic swirling with the gray around him.

“Well, would you look at that,” I breathe in disbelief.

* * *

XAVIER

“I ’ve always lived in a city. Never even thought to hope I’d see something like this.” I tip my head back and stare up at the dark blue sky. I swear I can see every star in the galaxy. “It’s so clear.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cato says. His voice is warm and luscious. I close my eyes, letting it sink into the top layer of my skin.

“What’s it like where you live?” I ask, just desperate to hear him speak.

“It’s hard to describe,” he says carefully. “Quiet. Sheltered.” His words come slow, but each one causes a tiny riot inside my chest. I wait after that last word, unsure if he’s done speaking but in no mood to rush this night along. “Surrounded by family,” he finally adds definitively.

I open my eyes and drop my head. Jealousy spoils the goodness swirling in my gut. “That must be nice,” I ask.

I hate how beautiful his laughter sounds. “It can be,” he admits. “But it can also be…suffocating.” His voice is oozing with love. I turn slowly to watch him as he speaks. We’re separated by a few feet, but I can see his face clearly in a warm yellow light.

I try to smile, but I feel too raw to fake it. Cato’s smile falters and his dark brows knit together.

“What’s it like where you live?” he asks gently.

“Lonely.”

His smile disappears at that word. “No family?” He asks the question as if he can’t even fathom the possibility.

I shake my head. “I’m not—” My voice breaks. “I’m not close to my family. Never had much of one to begin with anyway.”

He starts to walk toward me in slow steps. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

I laugh mirthlessly. “It was, but you have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, really.” If I say those words enough times, I wonder if I’ll start to believe them.

“I can still be sorry you had to live like that, even if no one’s to blame.”

He’s close now. Close enough to grab me and pull me into his body. I go gratefully. Painfully. It’s not enough to fill the chasm inside my chest, but I don’t think there’s enough care in the world for that.

I can’t remember the last time a man held me while clothed. The last time anyone touched me just to soothe me.

Cato holds me for another minute that feels like hours. I sink into his gentle touch, press my ear to his chest, and listen to his heartbeat while my own beats back in reply.

“I think we were supposed to meet tonight,” he whispers after a while.

The sting of tears makes me press my eyes shut. “What bad timing,” I say, trying to bite back the bitterness nibbling away at my mental stability.

I feel him shake his head. “No such thing as bad timing where I’m from,” he says.

I pull away in a sharp break. “There is where I’m from,” I say. “My whole life’s been nothing but one mistake after another.” I lose the reins on my own despair and turn away from Cato, trying to pull myself back together. The last thing I want to do is push him away.

It’s almost heartbreaking that his voice is just as gentle as before. “Is that why you wanted to run away?”

“I’m not…” I have to swallow that lie, unable to even muster the energy to finish that sentence. I wait until I feel sure of myself and turn back to find him watching me, that warm yellow light still illuminating his beautiful face. “Yes,” I confess. “What are you running from?”

Gentle calm turns to an alluring shock. “How did you… How did you know that?”

“I don’t know, actually. I can just see it. I know it.” I shrug.

He tips his head back and stares up at the sky for a few moments. I watch his Adam’s apple bob down the long column of his throat. Despair turns to lust.

He lowers his head, giving me a smile that breaks my heart. “I love my family, but like I said, they can be suffocating. Not anybody alone, but…” He opens his arms wide. “Expectation. I know who my family needs me to be, but I don’t know if I want the same for myself.”

“Who do they want you to be?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s complicated,” he deflects, dropping his head to stare at the ground.

Rejection stings, but I don’t let it deter me. I can’t. “Who do you want to be?” I ask instead.

He lifts his head and smiles. “I’m not sure yet, if I’m honest.”

I laugh drily.

“But I like who I am when I’m with you.”

I’m speechless.

Cato closes the distance between us in two long strides. He places a hand on my chest, just over his heart. “I don’t know what your people believe, but my people always say that the blood carries memories and lost souls call out like-to-like.”

I lick my dry lips. “Like-to-like. What’s that mean?”

He closes his eyes briefly, a gentle smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Exactly how it sounds.” He locks eyes with me. I watch his tongue move over his dark lips as he dips his head forward.

“You want to be free,” I whisper as his lips graze mine.

I feel his smile against my lips. “Like-to-like,” he whispers in return as his tongue moves into my mouth.

I want to escape in the cavern of Cato’s kiss and live here.

I want to lose myself in his hands moving down my chest and under my shirt.

I want to forget the oblivion that awaits me when the sun comes up because I feel whole here. I feel like I could be happy here with Cato in these woods.

He pulls back. “We can,” he whispers.

“Don’t stop kissing me. Please.”

He smiles with a bit of pressure against my lips, and it feels delicious. “Ask me again.”

Normally, I wouldn’t. Normally, I would turn and run from any man who dared ask me to submit in this way. Vulnerability is too dangerous, but so was my caution, so I give in this time. I give in to Cato. “Please. Kiss. Me.”

I groan when his mouth crashes against mine. This kiss is hungry. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this kiss for my entire life. He kisses me with the pressure of his entire body. Our legs tangle together as he moves me back across the clearing. I recognize the moment when our feet move from the dirt path to lush grass. I feel it in my bones when he pushes me against a wide oak tree.

He pulls my shirt up my chest and I shiver as he touches me everywhere, both hands moving over my bare skin as if he’s mapping me. Trying to remember me before I’m even gone. It’s been weeks since I’ve kissed someone. I’ll never know if that was the night or any of the dozens of nights before when I went out searching for care and found indifference and disease. I’ll never know if I had just waited a little longer if I might have met Cato. What I do know is that all the nights I went searching for love, I never found it.

Until now, on the one night love was furthest from my mind.

“It’s okay,” Cato whispers against my lips. “It’ll all be okay.”

It won’t, but I don’t tell Cato that. I don’t want to ruin this moment, so I kiss him harder. I suck his tongue into my mouth while I hold him tight at the waist.

“I don’t have too long,” I finally whisper into Cato’s mouth. I don’t know if I can bear to say those words again.

Cato pulls back from the kiss and looks me deep in my eyes, that warm yellow light brighter somehow. “Life and death are two sides of the same coin,” he whispers. “And neither one is the beginning or end.”

I might have objected, but Cato kisses me again, so I give myself an ounce of mercy and return his affection desperately. There’ll be time for heartbreak later.

* * *

CATO

W e learn young to keep our anger in check. A strong witch with strong emotions can cast a spell with a stray word, a flick of a wrist, a look.

It’s only a spark, but the magic I feel pouring from Xavier’s mouth into mine isn’t bred from anger, just pain and love. In Mossville, this magic could have made a dormant garden bloom in the dead of winter. But in these dark woods, with that old magic surrounding us, I can feel a little flicker of Xavier’s power flowing through his veins. What could have been.

So I kiss him slow and deep, wishing there was time to bring that flicker to a flame.