Page 68 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

She runs her hands through her hair, and I watch, mesmerized all over again, as the pale white of her hair shimmers with pastel pinks and violets and yellows in the same paths her fingers catch. She gathers her hair up into a ponytail, showing me both sides. She’s let the most vibrant shade of lilac settle for a moment. Then she shakes her hair, mussing it slightly, and all the color is gone. Back to stark white.

I shake my head with wonder. “Holy shit, I don’t think that will ever get old,” I say.

“It will, once we go to The Buried City,” she says, coming to curl up next to me again.

“When are we doing that?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Whenever you’re free, I guess,” she says.

“Tomorrow?”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?”

“It can be overwhelming,” she says. “I mean, it can be a pretty intense place to visit for a mortal the first time.”

I snort. “I’m sorry—a mortal? What is this, Charmed? Buffy?”

She has the grace to look embarrassed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s great vernacular, but it is the vernacular we use. It’s not my fault! This is, like, very old-timey bullshit.”

“And how is the landscape for witch-mortal relationships? Are we marginalized?” I ask.

“It’s a little uncommon, but no. We shouldn’t face any scorn for our mixed lineages,” she says with a sage nod. Then she blinks before pursing her lips and tilting her head to the side, like she’s thinking.

“What?” I ask.

“I actually should do a small working before we go,” she says. “Witches aren’t the only thing that live in The Buried City. Mortals are rare, and there are some entities that are too weak to leave The Buried City to hunt, or are exiled there—”

“What... kind of working?”

“A simple binding ritual.”

“Sounds kinky,” I say, grinning.

She turns scarlet. “N-no. More like... uhm... well—” She trails off before finally squeaking out. “It’s like a... sort of, uh. Well, it’s something that vampires used to use on their thralls.”

“Wait a fucking second. Vampires?” Something occurs to me. “Wait. That thing you said about the largest population outside of Transylvania...”

“Yes,” she says, eyeing me like I might get up and run.

“You were serious,” I say.

“Yes?” she repeats, cringing this time.

“And their thralls are... ”

“Like—uh...” she flushes impossibly deeper and before she can clarify it dawns on me.

“Oh my god,” I say feeling my own grin stretch. “You totally have to mark me as your territory, don’t you?”

“Oh gods,” she groans. “I promise it’s not, like, a weird sex slave thing.”

“Blood kinks, sex slaves. What’s next? Ritual fornication?”

She looks at me with such a guilty expression that my mouth drops open.

“No. Fucking. Way.”