Free Hexomancy by Michael R. Underwood Page A

like an asshole.
    She’d considered telling all three of the Rhyming Ladies about the turn for the weird her life had taken back during Halloween, but she’d ended up telling only Anya. Then, every adventure, bizarre attack, or weird development in her life became another brick in the wall she’d never meant to build up between her magical life and her real life, with Anya her begrudging partner in the construction job. The time to come clean had passed months ago, so the only thing left was to just put all her cards on the table.
    Which was a fucking fantastic thing to do when she was a half-dozen shots into drunk on an empty stomach and had months of accumulated exhaustion. But you played the hand you were dealt—life wasn’t in the habit of handing out Mulligans.
    The door was open, and so Ree stepped back inside to dance the Exposition Tango.

Chapter Seven
    The Exposition Tango
    Closing the door behind her, Ree walked over to pour herself another glass full of vodka, inadvisable though it may be. She nodded to Anya, and said, “First off, I’m sorry. I should have come clean to you and Sandra a long time ago. I’m an idiot, and I hope you’ll forgive me. But what happened tonight was more than enough of a giant neon sign that I can’t pretend holding back is doing anything but hurting you.”
    “What’s going on?” Priya asked, back on her perch. Anya stood to the side, her own glass half-empty.
    “Back around Halloween, when I got scarce all of a sudden after Jay dumped me, that wasn’t the only thing that was happening. . . .”
    Ree laid out that whole week’s worth of zaniness, including telling Anya, then gave a summary version of what her life had become since that week: patrols, Geekomancy, the Dorkcave, Grognard’s, Midnight Market, and more. She left out the real identity of Eastwood’s lost love, lest the news get back to her dad. Dad was far away from all of this bullshit, and Ree could spare him from the crazy and the heartache. That at least was still true.
    Then she moved on to explain what had really happened that night, relaying Drake’s account, hoping he hadn’t been whitewashing the situation to make himself look better. Not likely, given what she knew about Drake, but it was all Ree had to work with, barring mind-reading magic, and that was a Costco-size can of worms she was hoping to avoid, especially involving Drake. There might be . . . side effects.
    Priya listened attentively, and after one or two bouts of glassy eyes as the Doubt tried to wipe her memory, the reality of the situation stuck with the woman, who grew livid, her cheeks reddening.
    “What the ever-loving fuck, Ree?”
    Setting the glass down between several piles of gears and a glue gun, Ree raised her hands in the universal sign of “Hold on; please don’t punch me.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was a selfish jackass for keeping this to myself, just like Drake was selfish for not telling you. We didn’t want you to get hurt, which is what happens when you’re in this world. It’s just as scary as it is exciting, and neither of us wanted that for you.”
    “I’m a godsdamned adult, Ree. I can make decisions for myself.” Priya turned to Anya. “And you kept this from us the whole time?”
    Anya shrank before Priya’s accusation, looking down. “I’m sorry. But Ree’s right. After Halloween, I’ve been carrying a .358 in my purse everywhere I go, and I’m still terrified any time I’m away from crowds.”
    “But how is that different from real life?” Priya asked. “Monster or meth-head, getting jumped in an alley is getting jumped in an alley.”
    “It is and it isn’t. When monsters and shit know you can see them, they tend to get a hell of a lot more aggressive. But that’s no excuse. Now you know. It doesn’t make what Drake did any better, but now you know the truth, and you can decide what you want to do.”
    Priya took another sip, wobbling ever