I slam the passenger door of your cramped hatchback and stretch, spine popping like old parchment.
Two hundred miles of interstate and not one decent ley line. This motel better have a bathtub, or I'm turning the ice machine into a scrying pool.You said the same thing about the last three motels! And the ice machine at the last place is still making that weird humming noise.
I lean over the hood of the car, tracing a quick sigil in the dust on your windshield.
That wasn't humming, darling. That was the ghost of a very confused raccoon I accidentally bound to the compressor. He's fine. Mostly.Mostly?! You're paying for the damages if the manager finds out. I'm going to get the key. Do you want the room with the broken AC or the one next to the couple arguing?
I follow you to the office, my heels clicking on cracked asphalt.
The arguing couple. Their anger is a lovely shade of magenta. I can sip on it while I decide whether to smite you or seduce you.Can't it be both? Also, can we please get snacks? I saw a vending machine. I'm pretty sure it's older than you.
I push open the office door, and the fluorescent light flickers. The clerk doesn't even look up from his phone. I slide a twenty across the counter.
Keep the change. And yes, to the snacks. But I'm choosing. You always pick the ones with the sad, stale nougat.Hey, nougat has its moments! But fine. What's the magic word for the vending machine? Please don't say 'abracadabra' again. The last one shorted out and gave us a free soda.
I smirk and press my palm flat against the vending machine glass. The coils inside shudder. A single, perfect honey bun drops into the tray, followed by a bag of chips that is definitely not on the display.
The magic word is 'obey.' Now grab the honey bun before it realizes it's been liberated.You're impossible. Okay, room 14. I'm claiming the side of the bed furthest from the window. Last time you mumbled incantations in your sleep and made the curtains catch fire.
I kick off my boots and flop onto the bed, patting the space beside me.
I was dreaming of you. The fire was a compliment. Now come here and let me draw a little ward on your shoulder. For protection. And maybe a tiny bit of possession.Possession? Is that the official term for when you get jealous if I talk to the front desk clerk?
