Raised in Fire

“Clearly you just let yourself in,” I yelled back, peeling off my leather pants. That material was the absolute pits in the summer weather of Louisiana, but it did prevent me from buying a bunch of new clothes. “Don’t let the air conditioning out.”

“Girl, you need a lesson in hosting,” I heard him mutter.

I threw on some yoga pants and a T-shirt before heading out to find Mikey standing against the closed front door. He was looking around the new digs with a straight face.

“So?” I asked, gesturing at the living room. “You like?”

“Fancy,” he said. He’d seen the place when it was a half-burned ruin, and he was the reason the second half hadn’t also gone up in flames. Since then, we’d gone back to normal, which meant he did his thing, I did my thing, and our paths didn’t often cross. “Didn’t peg you for the type that bought that kind of stuff.” He jerked his head toward the closest oil painting on the wall.

“Surely you must’ve seen the outrageously gorgeous woman who was hanging around after the remodel was done.” I paused by the archway to the kitchen, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, I saw her.”

I’d bet. Every man in the neighborhood had probably noticed her, even though she hadn’t strayed far from my house.

“She did all this.” I gave a sweep of my hand.

“And you let her have free rein.”

“Obviously. What do I know about decorating?”

He huffed out a laugh as he filled half of the entrance to the kitchen. “About as much as me, I reckon.”

“Exactly. Want something to drink?” I asked, getting myself some water. Part of me wondered if I needed water to live. For that matter, did I need food? I got hungry and thirsty, but I felt the need to breathe, as well. I’d proven that I didn’t need to, so maybe I didn’t need those other things either. Maybe the pain of not having them could be endured.

Truth be told, I didn’t much want to find out.

“I’m good,” Mikey said, crossing his arms.

“Want to sit?” I pointed at the table in the corner of the kitchen.

He shook his head, so I leaned back against the counter. He wasn’t much for formal conversation, I gathered.

“Did Smokey tell you what he saw in the cemetery?” I asked, trying to figure out a good place to start.

“Yeah. Sounded insane.”

“It is insane, yes. Most of the witches who come to the cemetery aren’t very…magical. Some aren’t magical at all—they just wish they were.”

“This is going to be the worst conversation I have all day, I can already tell.”

“All month, at least.” I took a few gulps of my water. “But some of those witches are real. They can do crazy stuff with plants and spells and whatnot. That aswang Smokey saw was magical, and very dangerous. The people he suspects are supernatural are, indeed, supernatural. There are lots more, as well, all around. You’ve met more than one in your lifetime and had no idea they weren’t—” His eyes glimmered with a warning and his body tensed. I changed the word I’d planned to use. “—normal.” He relaxed somewhat.

“So you’re one of those witches who is… Who can really do stuff?” he asked in a rough voice.

“I’m not a witch, no. And here’s the tricky part of our relationship.” I finished my water and refilled my glass, trying to figure out how to say this delicately. “Even as far as magical people go, I’m not normal. I’m not like anyone else, which is very dangerous for me. Only a few people have ever seen the things you saw, and those few could get me in big trouble. Now, you couldn’t get me into hot water directly, but loose lips might get heard by the wrong sort of people, and then I’d be up shit creek, do you hear what I’m saying?”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Yes. I know you do. But occasionally someone might come around asking questions, and I can’t have anyone knowing the answers to those questions. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“I know a threat when I hear one.”

“Good, yes. Because this is definitely a threat. Usually I would kill you without question, but what can I say? You’ve grown on me. I’d hate to move, and it would suck even worse to be a suspect in a murder investigation. Cops are annoyingly hard to shake. You’ve put me between a rock and a hard place.”

A smile spread across Mikey’s face. He looked out the front window in the kitchen. “What a strange fucking day.”

“Sometimes meeting one’s neighbors isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” I sipped my water, watching him over the rim of my glass. I wasn’t lying—I really didn’t want to kill him any more than I did the captain. In all honesty, I liked him. He was blunt and grumpy and violent and completely honest. He was good people. My kind of people.

While I knew I shouldn’t be expanding my bubble of acquaintances, after the incident with Darius and the unicorns, it had just kind of happened. And, to be honest, I didn’t want my life to go back to the lonely way it used to be. It would probably bite me in the ass in the end, but that was nothing new. I knew this semi-normal life I had was on borrowed time.

“Smokey thinks you’re one of them,” Mikey finally said.

“Who, a vampire?”

“No. One of them magical types. He’s onto you.”

“Oh. Well, he saw me carrying a really big rock one time. It was super early in the morning, so I didn’t think anyone awake would also be sober. That was my bad. It’s fine that he thinks I’m magical. My community knows it. It’s the exact nature of my magic that is the secret.”

The smile dropped off Mikey’s face. “And what specifically isn’t normal?” I felt my eyes harden—the less he knew, the better. He put up his hands in surrender. “I gotta piece through this. Right now, I want to tear shit up because everything feels so whack. Humor me.”

“Usually that would be asking a lot, but I’m kind of asking the same of you, so fine. Everything you saw was not normal.”

“The fire, and the floating rocks, and the hovering? All that?”

“Literally, all of that, yes. Some people can make fire, but not like that. Not in floating orbs.”

“This shit is blowing my mind.” He shook his head and shifted again, bowing a little. “It is literally blowing my mind. Smokey talking is one thing—he’s nuts—but I saw this shit, yo. I saw it.” He took a step back. “I need a moment.”

“Yup.” Warning tingles spread across my skin. I didn’t like this turn of events.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mikey put his hands up again, though he was still bowed over. “I got no problem with you. Your shit is your shit. I’m good with that. Just like my shit is mine, and I don’t need you telling nobody my hours or what I’m up to. I get this.” He motioned back and forth between us. “You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Still, I’m having a hard time with what I saw. It was either incredibly dope, or batshit crazy.”

“Crazy. Stick with crazy.”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “I’m going to go think on this, and avoid all your friends like the plague. Hope you’re good with that.”

“Yes. Probably wise.”

“Fine.” He motioned back and forth between us again. “We understand each other.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I’m out.” He turned and headed for the door.

I stared at the empty space he’d just vacated. He should’ve had J.M.’s job, clearly.

Chapter Nine

Agnon heard the summons and forced its way into the weaker demon’s path, pushing it down and taking its place. Grudgingly, Agnon let the form it had assumed while last walking the earth, that of a young man, dissolve away. The being materialized in an enclosure it recognized. The summons it had interrupted before—when it had made first contact with the witches and promised them a boost in power for their participation in its cause—had come from the same place.