Page 29 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Ugh. I regret my cockiness in assuring Kerboros I’d never need gear, as I can always find a friendly face, someone who’s willing to shelter me. I guess I’ll curl up with a coil of rope. While that could be fun under the right circumstances, I don’t have the energy to get creative. Nor do we have the time, even if I had the verve.

“I’m missing something, but I’m no longer at my sharpest,” he admits with a trace of reluctance. He sweeps off his cloak and spreads it out. Then he produces a blanket from his pack. “We can share,” he adds.

I don’t question his generosity. Before he can rescind the quiet offer, I settle on the edge of the makeshift bedroll, bemused to find that the fabric retains his heat. The feeling is curiously intimate but not unwelcome. Not anymore.

“I’m surprised you’re open to this,” I whisper.

“Why?”

“Because I was so sure the wildlands would provide, and you said you wouldn’t help.”

“That was before. I don’t know that coming in after me was wise, but your kindness means a lot to me.” There can be no mistaking his sincerity.

It feels like the antisocial layers are sloughing away, revealing a Kerboros known only to me. “I appreciate it, as our predicament has me eating my own words.”

“And nothing else,” he notes.

Despite the dire situation, I laugh, settling in further. “I deserve that. I should’ve asked Uncle Tim for a snack. He has pockets full of treats that could sustain us for a week.”

There is something I can do to help us rest, however. I sit up and delve into the bag hidden beneath my shirt and quickly perform a spell that should preserve our peace, at least according to my dad. The smoke is soft, just as he promised, a faintest trickle that reminds me of expensive incense I’ve smelled burning in the Winter market.

“What’s that?” Kerboros asks.

I’m not sure if he means the spellbook or the ritual. Quickly, I explain, “Gifts from Da. To help me cope with my magical…differences.”

“That was kind of him. I see where you get it.”

“He’s the best.” I try (and fail) to ignore the fear tapping at the back of my brain. While I am exhausted, I don’t know if the anxiety will let me sleep.

“You’ve got a remarkably bright soul,” Kerboros says.

With the consequences for failure looping in my brain, it takes forever to drift off, and I awake with a yell at finding a stranger’s face right next to mine.

14

Hidden Fire

This is the tiniest piece in the collection, measuring smaller than the artist’s hand. It is a stylized flame, concealed on the wall behind the bed. Five arcs rise from the center, giving the impression of heat in the shape and movement of the carving. Details become finer and more minuscule toward the heart of the fire, indicating color shifts. This carving has been painstakingly finished despite the fact that it’s hidden from view to the casual observer, and a deeper stain has been applied to the piece, a shock of color in contrast to the lighter tone of the rest of the wall. This piece represents the vibrant inner life that cannot be shared but could be discovered by a devotee of the artist’s work.

Kerboros

A shout startles me, and I roll to my feet, laying hands on my blade before my eyes are fully open.

Thea sits nose to nose with… Who is that? I would have sworn that we were alone in this accursed trap—oh, perhaps this fae just stumbled in and was startled to find us sleeping. It’s the most logical explanation, though it doesn’t mean I can relax my guard.

“Get away from her!” I order. “It is the height of discourtesy for an unknown person to violate her boundaries in such a way.”

The fae rises in a smooth motion. “Friends call me Zeph, though I can’t say you look particularly amiable.”

Thea waves a hand, rubbing at her eyes with the other one. “Stand down. If…” She casts an inquiring look at the newcomer, though I’ve no idea what she’s asking.

“They,” Zeph supplies.

Oh, I see. Zeph does present an androgynous aspect, and it’s polite to establish preferences before settling into a longer conversation. Thea is better at these details because she’s had more experience talking to people. I snarl at them when necessary and glare in silence when possible. My attitude usually results in people leaving me alone.

“If they intended to harm us, they could’ve done it while we slept.”

Reluctantly, I lower my weapon. She might know this person. I refuse to embarrass myself again like I did with the gruagach. Uncle Tim, indeed.