Magic and Loss: A Novel of Golgotham (18 page)

Instead of looking surprised or ashamed, Hexe merely shrugged his shoulders, his face as unreadable as a mask, while his silver-gloved fingers drummed against the tabletop, as if waiting for me to say something interesting. I wasn’t really sure what his reaction would be when I confronted him with the truth, but I certainly hadn’t expected it to boil down to
“So?”

“Hexe,
please
—this is serious. We need to talk about what’s going on with you, and I’d rather do it at home.”

“What’s going on with
me
, huh?” he sneered. As he took another hit, the water pipe gurgled as if it was laughing. “I’ll come home when I damn well feel like it, and not because you
nagged
me into doing it.”

There it was. The “why do you have to be such a bitch?” card. The one that every other boyfriend had played—usually just before the end of the relationship. I felt my heart sink as if it had been filled with lead. I didn’t dare say anything for fear I would lose what little control I had and start to cry. That’s all I needed at that moment—to be dismissed as an overemotional pregnant woman. And I definitely didn’t want to freak out in public, only to find it splashed all over YouTube by the time I got home. Fighting back my tears, I yanked back the privacy curtain and angrily strode toward the door, hoping with every step that Hexe would come to his senses.

I was halfway down the block when I realized he wasn’t going to follow.
That’s
when I started to cry.

I’d never felt so overwhelmed in my life. The framework on which I had chosen to build my new life was suddenly crumbling underneath me, in a way that was all too familiar. I had committed myself to Hexe to a degree I had never done before. Until now, the trust I had in him was as pure and strong as that of a child. Even on those occasions where I had been leery of the choices he made, I still knew that his decisions were born from genuine concern for both me and the baby. But now—?

I remembered how Lady Syra and Dr. Moot spoke about Esau—about how he had once been a good friend and loving brother—a healer, just like Hexe. But then he lost his wife, and anger and bitterness dragged him down the Left Hand path until he became a misanthropic, racist, homicidal zealot who wouldn’t think twice about killing his own flesh and blood. Was that what was occurring with Hexe now that he had lost his Right Hand magic—?

Just then the image of Hexe’s silver-clad hand drumming its fingers against the table, as if waiting for something to happen, flooded my mind’s eye. Hexe may have been depressed and frustrated after Boss Marz maimed him, but the cold, distant look in his eyes didn’t appear until Madam Erys tricked him into donning the Gauntlet of Nydd. If the Trojan spell on the gauntlet could somehow turn Right Hand spells into Left Hand magic, maybe it was also capable of doing the same thing to the wearer as well.

Upon reaching the house I was greeted at the door by Beanie, who licked the drying tears from my face as I hugged him. It was way past my normal bedtime, and I had to be at work the next day. I changed out of my clothes and crawled into the big, empty bed, feeling both emotionally and physically exhausted. Over the last few weeks my pregnancy had really started to affect my body—my feet and ankles had started to swell, along with my breasts, and my lower back felt like it had been whacked with the flat of a cricket bat. But my physical discomfort was nothing compared to the gnawing fear that I was losing Hexe—not to another woman, but to something dark within himself.

I fell asleep with the sound of his silver fingers drumming, drumming, drumming in my ears.

•   •   •

Suddenly the lights were on, rendering me as blind as the owls standing guard atop the four-poster. Hexe was standing by the bed, looming over me like a vengeful ghost, his face contorted in munted rage, smelling of tobacco, hashish, and safflower. His gauntleted hand flashed like the scales of a fish as he snatched away the bedclothes, leaving me exposed, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a camisole.

“How
dare
you come hunting me down like a nagging fishwife, embarrassing me in front of my subjects?” he thundered.

I clambered out of bed moments before he grabbed the edge of the mattress and upended it onto the floor. Beanie, who had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, gave a frightened yelp and quickly scurried for cover under the nightstand.

“Why
shouldn’t
I take that money?” he bellowed. “You’re living rent free, aren’t you? I’m just taking what’s owed me!”

“Hexe, please, calm down! Just
listen
to what you’re saying!” I pleaded as I moved away from him, trying my best to stay beyond arm’s reach. “Something’s
wrong
with you!”

“Of
course
something was wrong with me, you stupid nump! But it’s all
better
now, see?” he said with a nasty laugh, holding up his gauntleted right hand and wiggling the fingers in parody of a wave.

“No, Hexe—that’s what’s making you act this way! The gauntlet is cursed! It’s perverted your magic and now it’s trying to do the same thing to you! You’ve
got
to get rid of it, Hexe!”

“
You’re
the one who’s crazy if you think I’m going to surrender my hand!” he snapped. “You’ve got no idea what you’re asking me to do!” Suddenly he lunged forward, his right hand moving with the speed of a striking cobra, grabbing my upper arm. For the first time since we first met, his golden eyes with their cat-slit pupils seemed genuinely inhuman. “You’re always yammering about how much you ‘belong’ in Golgotham—but the truth is you’ll
never
know what it
really
means to be Kymeran. It doesn’t rub off, no matter how hard you try.”

“Hexe, please, let go! You’re
hurting
me!”

“So what are you going to do about it?” He smirked, his gloved fingertips digging deeper into the flesh of my upper arm.

I don’t know who was more surprised when I punched him. My months of working as a blacksmith came in good stead as I landed a hard enough blow to his jaw to stagger him. The moment he let go of my arm I darted past him and ran out of the bedroom and headed down the hall to my studio. I closed the door behind me and I felt it shudder as he threw his weight against it, trying to force it open.

“Let me in, Tate!” he barked, rattling the doorknob like a tambourine.

“Go away!” I sobbed as I hastily secured the locks. “Just leave me alone, Hexe!”

“You can’t tell me to leave! This is
my
house!”

I cried out in alarm as he struck the door with his gauntleted fist, causing one of the upper panels to split. I backed away as the second blow shattered the panel entirely, allowing him to reach the lock and kick open the ruined door. I realize this might sound deluded, considering the situation I found myself in, but although I was surrounded by power tools and other equipment, I did not move to arm myself because I knew the man that I loved was still in there somewhere. If I could just say the right word or do the right thing to trigger his reemergence, to replace this angry stranger with the man I loved and who loved me in return, then everything would go back to the way it should be. . . .

As he moved to cross the threshold, there came a clattering sound from up the hall. Hexe frowned and turned his head to look in the direction of the noise, only to be sent flying beyond my field of vision.

“Leave her alone!”
Octavia bleated.

I stepped out of the studio to see Hexe lying sprawled on the second floor landing. The cruel, distant look had disappeared from his eyes, to be replaced by one of dazed confusion. “What in seven hells is going on—?” he groaned.

As I moved to go to his side, Octavia blocked my way with her arm and shook her head. She then turned back to address Hexe in a stern voice. “Get out of here—go take a walk.”

“Tate—what’s going on—?” Hexe’s eyes widened and his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the livid hand-shaped bruise that now adorned my upper arm.

“I mean it,” Octavia said, stamping one of her cloven hooves in emphasis. “Or do you want me to knock some more sense into you?”

With that the look in Hexe’s eyes abruptly changed again, reverting to the previous cold, hard stare. I automatically took a step backward as he glared at me. “I could
use
some fresh air,” he sneered. “It smells like a barnyard in here.” He turned and headed down the stairs and, a few seconds later, we were rewarded by the sound of the front door slamming.

Octavia heaved a sigh of relief and then turned to look at me. “Good thing I switched shifts with a friend of mine, or I wouldn’t have been home for that. Did he hurt you?”

“Not really,” I replied. “The door got the worst of it. But thank you for stopping it before it could get really ugly.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t had to do for my sisters, time and again.
All
men are alike, at some point. It’s just that satyrs are at their worst
all
the time.”

“The thing is, Hexe
isn’t
like that. No, I mean it—truly he’s
not.
Something’s happening to him—I just don’t know how to explain it, but he’s genuinely not himself anymore.”

“Is it drugs?”

“Not exactly,” I replied.

“Do you have someplace where you can go?” Octavia asked gently. “Somewhere outside of Golgotham?”

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by the question. “Do you think that’s really necessary?”

“Do you trust him not to do it again?” the faun countered.

Up until that moment, the thought of leaving Hexe had not crossed my mind. But now that the subject had been broached, there was no banishing it. I went into my studio and stared out the window that overlooked the street. I could see Hexe trudging away from the house, fists jammed deep into the pockets of his coat. At this time of night there was only one place he could be headed: the Stagger Inn.

A
s I stepped out of the elevator, the only things I noticed about the hallway were that it was very long and that there was no way to tell one doorway from another. The entire apartment building was also very quiet, which was to be expected at a quarter to four in the morning, and the sound of my footsteps and the clickity-click of Beanie’s toenails seemed incredibly loud in comparison. After a few moments’ search, I finally found the apartment I was looking for—marked by an adhesive sticker shaped like the Loch Ness Monster pasted just below the peephole drilled in the door. I set down my suitcase, tightened my hold on Beanie’s leash, and pushed the doorbell. A minute or two later a decidedly disgruntled male voice, still thick from sleep, spoke from the other side.

“Who is it? Don’t you know what goddamned time it is?”

“It’s me, Adrian—Tate,” I said, standing back so that he could see for himself through the peephole.

“Who is it?” asked an equally sleepy female voice.

“It’s Tate.”

There was a sudden rattle of locks and deadbolts being turned, followed by the door opening. Vanessa stood in the tiny foyer of her apartment dressed in a faux leopard-skin bathrobe, with her bright red hair sticking out in every direction. Standing behind her was her husband, Adrian, dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and armed with a T-ball bat.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, already reaching out to pull me inside the apartment. “Has something happened?”

“I left Hexe.”

The control I’d held over my emotions from the moment I packed my bags and allowed Octavia to escort me to the taxi stand opposite the Gate of Skulls finally dissolved into a torrent of tears.

“Oh, sweetie—I’m
so
sorry!” Vanessa said as she slipped her arm about my shaking shoulders and steered me from the front door and into the living room.

As I let go of the leash, Beanie trotted ahead of me and jumped up onto their couch, making himself immediately at home by burrowing under the throw pillows and falling sound asleep. “I’m sorry. I should have called first, but I wasn’t thinking straight,” I managed to apologize between sobs. “Oh, God, Nessie, what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to sit down and tell me all about it,” she said solicitously.

“Oh, Nessie, it was so horrible—Hexe came home munted and we got into this
terrible
fight about money—”

“He was
whated
?” Adrian frowned. He had set aside the T-ball bat and was standing off to the side with the same awkwardly consternated look on his face that all men get when the women around them begin to weep.

“He was messed up on some kind of Kymeran drug,” I explained. “The next thing I know he’s screaming at me about money, and then things got out of hand. . . .”

“Did he hit you?” Vanessa asked, her voice suddenly hard as flint. With her bright red hair and her flashing emerald green eyes, she reminded me of one of Golgotham’s leprechauns rolling up his sleeves in anticipation of a fight.

“It got bad, but not
that
bad,” I replied quickly. I reflexively touched my upper arm as I spoke, but since I had changed into a long-sleeved shirt, neither Vanessa nor Adrian could see the bruises. Although I had made up my mind to walk out on Hexe, part of me was still trying to protect him.

“It would
have
to be drugs, wouldn’t it?” Vanessa replied, with a shake of her head. “I mean, Hexe
worships
the ground you walk on! I can tell it by the way he looks at you, how he talks about you to others when you’re not around.” She leaned forward and took one of my hands and gave it a squeeze. “Look, I know this looks like it’s the end, but it doesn’t
have
to be. Before Adrian and I got married, we had a couple of big fights; I mean,
real
doozies. I almost called the engagement off over one of them. But after we gave each other a little space, and cooled down, we realized even though we drive each other crazy now and again, we couldn’t live without one another. Sometimes you’ve got to get shit out in the open for a relationship to grow, even if it hurts.”

“I know that, Nessie.” I sniffled, wiping my eyes with one of the tissues Adrian handed me in an attempt to be supportive while staying out of the way. “I love Hexe so much it hurts to think about him not being in my life. But this isn’t about just about
me
, and what
I
want, anymore,” I said, placing a protective hand atop my belly. “It’s like I’m watching him fade away while being replaced by someone I don’t know. I can’t stay in that house while he’s like that. And I certainly can’t bring a baby into that kind of craziness.”

Adrian shuffled into the living room, carrying a blanket and a bed pillow in his arms. “I’m going to crash on the sofa, and you can share the bed with Nessie,” he announced, stifling a yawn. “It’s a queen—you should have plenty of room.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” I replied, taking the bedclothes from him. “I’ll sleep on the sofa—you go back to bed with your wife. I’m pregnant, not made out of glass. Besides, I wouldn’t subject Beanie’s snoring and gas to anyone unprepared for it. I think it’s actually against the Geneva Convention.”

Since both Adrian and Vanessa had to get up to go to work in the morning, neither was in the mood to argue the situation, so they retired to their bedroom and left me to make a bed for myself on the sofa. As I went to the bathroom before turning in, I could hear their voices conversing in low tones. Although I could not make out the words, I knew they were talking about what to do about me.

I stretched out as best I could on the couch and Beanie snuggled in close against me, pressing his sleek little body against my swollen belly. Even though it had been weeks since the last time Hexe had slept alongside me, I still missed the heat of his body and the sound of his breathing. The thought of never waking up to find him in bed beside me again made my heart ache as if it were being torn apart with hooks. I remembered the cold, distant look in Hexe’s eyes and the sneering, ugly tone of his voice as he spoke barbed words full of venom, and how he seemed to take a perverse delight in saying things that shredded my self-confidence and self-worth. I tried to think of the last time I was genuinely happy, and my mind went back to the Jubilee, when he won a stuffed monkey wearing a plaid tam-o’-shanter for me at the Hit the Cats booth.

As the sights and sounds of that moment flooded my memory, I experienced what felt like a small, sharp kick in my midriff, followed by a second, slightly less enthusiastic bump. Beanie snorted in disgust and moved toward the foot of the couch, clearly resentful of having his beauty rest interrupted by a rumbaing fetus. I closed my eyes and pretended that Hexe had his arms wrapped about me, and that it was his hands, not mine, clasped across my belly, feeling our wondrous, nameless child-to-be tapping on the walls of his world, as if in search of a secret passage. The tears built until they turned my vision into a watery blur and spilled from the corners of my eyes.

•   •   •

The sound of movement in the room started me awake. I opened my eyes and frowned at the unfamiliar bookcases and coffee table before remembering where I was. I could hear Adrian and Vanessa moving around in their galley-style kitchen as they prepared breakfast before leaving for the day. Adrian taught Art History at NYU, and Vanessa worked for a pet cremation service, both designing and throwing custom pottery urns for dearly departed four-legged friends. Beanie hopped off the sofa and went trotting off to investigate upon hearing the toaster pop. I guess he missed the old breakfast routine as much as I did.

Stifling a yawn, I shuffled into the kitchen, to find Beanie standing on his hind legs in front of Adrian, eyes focused on his strawberry toaster pastry as if it were the Holy Grail. “Good morning, li’l guy!” Adrian laughed. “Do you want a Pop-Tart?”

“Damn it, dog!” I exclaimed, with a clap of my hands. “Get out from underfoot.”

“Sorry,” Vanessa said as she poured a dollop of soymilk into her morning coffee. “We didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“That’s okay,” I replied. “Normally I’m up and out of the house even earlier than this. I guess I was more exhausted than I realized. I almost feel hungover.”

“Once Adrian and I leave for work, you’re welcome to crash in the bedroom,” Vanessa said. “Feel free to make yourself at home while we’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nessie, Adrian—you two are really great for putting me up at such short notice.”

“Are you kidding?” she grinned. “It’s going to be
awesome
! I’ll buy some ice cream and microwave a bag of popcorn, and we’ll stream a cheesy horror movie on Netflix—it’ll be just like college!”

“Sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

“See you after work!” Vanessa promised as she and Adrian hustled out the door and into the world beyond.

The moment the door closed behind them, I sprinted to the bathroom, barely making it in time before vomiting what was left of the previous evening’s meal. I wasn’t sure if my nausea was just another bout of morning sickness or a delayed reaction to everything I’d gone through over the last ten hours. Once I felt better, I walked back into the living room and stared at the rumpled sofa. Vanessa and Adrian lived in a newish tower block, and by New York standards their seven-hundred-square-foot apartment was fairly spacious, but after living in the boardinghouse I couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic.

I unplugged my phone from its charger and called Canterbury to tell him I was taking a couple of sick days.

“Morning sickness, eh?” the centaur chuckled. “Well, that’s to be expected. Just tell that man of yours to look after you. It’s the least he can do for getting you pregnant.”

I laughed and assured him I would do just that. I didn’t like lying to Canterbury, but I wasn’t comfortable airing my dirty laundry just yet. Nessie was one thing—she was the closest thing I had to a sister, and we had seen one another through more than one Bad Breakup in the past—but unburdening myself on my boss and business partner was something else entirely. As it was, the logistics of commuting to work while trying to find a new place to live, on my salary, whether in or out of Golgotham, was enough to make me lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling in surrender.

I started as my phone began to play the opening guitar lick to Heart’s “Magic Man.” That was Hexe’s ringtone. I stared at the caller ID for a long moment before finally hitting the accept button. He sounded hungover. “Tate—? I can’t find Beanie. I’ve called and called, but he won’t answer . . . and I found this weird note from Octavia, saying she’s moving out, like, immediately.”

“Beanie’s with me, Hexe,” I replied, trying to sound calmer than I actually felt.

“What’s he doing at Canterbury’s?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“I’m not at work.”

“Then where are you?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Tate, what’s going? Does this have something to do with the door to your studio?”

Now it was my turn to sound confused. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“You came home munted on Dragon’s Balm last night. You were mad at me because I confronted you at the Highlander about stealing money from the baby stash to get smoked up. Then you went mental when I said you needed to get rid of the gauntlet. If Octavia hadn’t stopped you, I don’t know
what
would have happened after that.”

“Wait—what are you talking about?” he asked in a perplexed voice. “I’ve
never
set foot in the Highlander.”

“Heavens and hells, Hexe!” I shot back angrily, no longer able to hide my frustration. “I was
there
! I
saw
you smoking Dragon Balm! Lying about it is not going to make me change my mind.”

“But I’m
not
lying!” he said with a plaintive wail. “I honestly
don’t
know
what you’re talking about!”

“Oh? And I guess you don’t know anything about Lafo cutting you off at the Calf because you were picking fights with his customers, either?”

“Lafo said
that
?”

“Stop it, Hexe!” I snapped. “Whatever game you think you’re playing—just
stop it
! I’ve
tried
to be understanding about everything. I know you’re going through hell, but I just can’t stay under the same roof with you after last night. If it was just me, maybe things could be different . . . but it’s
not
just me anymore. . . .”

“What are you trying to say—?”

“I’m telling you that
you’re
what happened to the door, Hexe. That’s why I left and took Beanie with me.”

“I . . . I . . . did
that
?” He gasped.

“Hexe, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I
do
know it has something to do with that damned thing Moot put on your hand. You need help, baby—you need to get rid of the gauntlet before the curse on it turns you inside out.”

“Please, Tate—whatever I did, I’m
sorry
. I won’t do it again—I
promise
. Just come back home.
Please
, don’t do this to me. I l
ove
you, Tate.”

At that moment he sounded so much like the Hexe I used to know, the one I fell in love with and came to trust, I was afraid my heart was going to split in two from the pain it was enduring. “And I love
you
, Hexe; more than I’ve loved anyone in my life.” As I spoke those words, my throat grew tight and tears fell with every bat of my eyelashes. “You once made me promise you I wouldn’t run into any more burning buildings while I was pregnant—well, that’s exactly what you’re asking me to do right now. I
want
to come home, but I
can’t
, not as long as you’re still wearing the gauntlet.”

“Please, Tate. Don’t do this to me,” he begged, his voice wavering. “I don’t want to lose you and the baby!”

“I don’t want to lose
you
, either—believe me, walking out of that house was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I
can’t
live with you while you’ve still got that thing fused to your right hand. I just can’t take the risk.”