Hexed

nice. Maybe you can pop in a Clint Eastwood movie for me. ‹
    » Sure. Besides, you don’t like witches, right? «
    › Well, no. But neither do you. Except now you’re ready to trot over to Malina’s gingerbread house because she said so—and right after someone tried to off you, I might add. Have you thought that maybe you’re making her day here? Do you feel lucky? ‹
    » I guess I know which kind of Eastwood movie you’d like to watch. « I got Oberon set up in the living room with a Dirty Harry flick and then took off on my bike, sword strapped to my back in plain sight, heading for Malina’s condo near Town Lake.
    Ever since I’d started to carry Fragarach around regularly—just in the last few weeks—I had noticed an interesting phenomenon: Hardly anyone thought it was real. Most people took a look at the guy on a bike with a sword and assumed I was still living with my mom and harboring an unhealthy obsession for anime. Or they supposed the sword was a prop for a role-playing game or some other fantasy, because the idea of carrying a sword for personal defense in an age of firearms caused them too much cognitive dissonance. While I paused at the stoplight on Mill and University, one citizen even inquired if I was on my way to the comics shop.
    Malina lived in the Bridgeview condos, a twelve-story tower of glass and steel built just after the turn of the century in Tempe’s rush to develop the Town Lake district. She and the rest of her coven owned the entire ninth floor—though now there were six vacancies. Granuaile, my apprentice, lived on the eighth floor, directly underneath the condo of Radomila, the coven’s erstwhile leader. I thought it would be wise to check on her before knocking on Malina’s door, so I rang her bell.
    » Who is it? « her voice called through the door. » Oh, it’s just you. «
    She answered the door in something scanty, and I experienced a moment of panic as prurient thoughts pushed aside the innocent inquiry I’d been planning to make about her safety. Granuaile was not plain; she was a tall, lithe redhead with green eyes, a mouth that looked delicious, and an extremely sharp mind. The latter was most important, for otherwise she would not be my apprentice. It was difficult to dwell on her mind, however, when so much of her athletic build was on display—more than I had seen to date, in fact. She usually dressed very modestly and I appreciated it, because it kept my thoughts of her (mostly) innocent. But now that she was dressed in a low-cut pale-green nightie, all slinky and clinging to her shape—
    Baseball! Must think of baseball. Not the curve of her … curveball! Randy Johnson has a wicked slider too. Oh, how I would love to slide—
    » Atticus? What’s wrong? «
    » Huh? Oh. Um. Hi. « I’d been reduced to monosyllables by a nightie.
    » Why are you looking up? Is there something above my door? « She took a step closer to me and leaned over to see what I was looking at and, oh, my—
    » There’s some tit, uh, titillating wallpaper up there! Yes! Fantastic interior decorating here, I just noticed. «
    » You’ve seen it before. What’s going on? «
    Just the facts, Atticus. » Someone attacked me tonight and I wanted to make sure you were okay, « I said, trying to remember who held the record for stealing second base.
    » Oh, well, yes, I’m fine. Who attacked you? «
    » Still trying to find out. It was a magical attack, not a physical one. Actually, there was a physical one too, but that was a demon, and an elemental killed it for me so that’s all right, the ghouls are on their way, but I’m not sure my neighbor’s ever going to be the same, though you don’t have to worry about Oberon, he’s fine. « Sweet honey of Dagda, now I was babbling.
    » What? « Granuaile said.
    » Look, there’s no time to discuss it; just lock yourself inside and close all your windows. I’m going to put a ward on your door to keep you safe tonight while I go deal with this. «
    » You think someone’s going to attack me? «
    » No, no, it’s a precaution only. Now get inside and close the door—shoo. But open up the shop for me tomorrow; I won’t be in ’til after lunch. «
    » All right, « she said uncertainly. She turned, and I looked at the ceiling so that my peripheral vision would not drag my focus downward. » I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. «
    » Sleep well, « I said as the door closed, shutting that body away from my eyes, and I