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She put both hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Ten out of ten, by the way. Those jeans look painted on.” He made an approving gesture and waggled his brows. “Oh, and I got you this.”
He reached behind him and lifted a large paper bag from the island. The scent of spicy food hit her nose and made her mouth water instantly.
“From your favorite Indian place,” he said, handing her the bag. “Thought we could have lunch together.”
She took the bag and peeked inside, only to see he’d gotten her regular order of vegetable biryani, along with a tandoori dish for him, and a couple of pakoras as starters.
Looking up at him again, she bit her lip. “You’re a sweetheart.”
Something flashed over his face, a flicker of vulnerability, gone again the next second. Shrugging, he turned away to get some plates and cutlery.
They sat down at the table in the breakfast nook and dug in, eating in companionable silence at first.
“So,” Tallak said after a few minutes, “did Merle find anything in the sigil book?”
Hazel swallowed her bite and sighed. “Yes and no. She did find the sigil that was at the murder site, but we still need more information. That symbol is never used alone, but always in combination with other sigils to form a sort of code or sub-spell that will either enhance or specify a superior spell.”
At Tallak’s frown, she elaborated. “Think of it like sentence structure. You’ve got a main clause that tells you the gist of what is happening, but then you also have a subordinate clause that gives you more information that either explains the main clause or even changes its meaning.”
Tallak chewed on a pakora. “Right. Like all the ways you can use the word fuck and have it mean different things by adding stuff to it. Fuck you, fuck off, fuck me, fuck it, fuck yes, fuck no, fucking A, fucking hell…” He waved his hand and grinned. “Gotta love language. So versatile.”
Hazel shook her head, a smile on her lips. “While crude, that’s a good example. Magic is a lot like language. Not just in the way you can combine spells like you’d combine words and sentences to create new meaning, but also in the way our intention works just like intonation for speech. You have to put meaning behind it and direct your focus while you cast a spell, or else it might go awry.”
Tallak nodded sagely. “Just like you can express all sorts of emotions by saying fuck in different tones of voice. The word’s the same, but the meaning changes depending on how you say it.”
Hazel laughed softly, then sobered again. “Anyway, so Merle found the one sigil, but without knowing the others it will be paired with, I can’t even guess at the meaning of the subordinate spell in this case. This particular sigil can be combined with up to four others to make dozens of different sub-spells. The combinations and their explanations are all listed in the book, so if I knew the other sigils this one goes with…” She made a sound of frustration. “It galls me to think that I can’t figure this out before the witch kills again and lays another sigil—not to mention that I have no idea how I would even find that other sigil!”
“What makes you think there aren’t already other sigils?”
She paused, blinked, and lowered her fork. “You’re right. This might not even be the first. Oh, gods. What if that witch has already killed a few times?” The horror of it flooded her brain for a moment.
Tallak licked his fingers, then cleaned his hands with a napkin. “So the sigils in a combination…are they connected to each other somehow?”
“Well, yes, they would have a kind of bond, like a common thread tying them together, since they are part of one spell.”
“Means they’re a family of sorts.”
She squinted. “In a way…yes. Why?”
He leaned back in his chair, a shrewd glint in his amber eyes. “Isn’t there a special locator spell to find missing family members?”
Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. Heart racing, she pushed back her chair and shot up. “Yes. There is. It might just—” She paused in turning away, looking back at Tallak. “How do you know this?”
His shrug made his muscles ripple underneath his T-shirt, this one featuring the words I don’t have a bucket list, but I’ve got a fuck-it list. “I’m a walking encyclopedia of memories stolen from my kills, remember? Some of that knowledge never fades.”
She considered him for a moment. “That must be tough,” she said softly. “Does it ever bother you?”
He held her gaze for a long breath, his expression as unguarded as she’d ever seen it. “Yes,” he eventually said, his voice quiet. “A lot.”
Something inside her broke at his tone, at the look on his face. “Tallak,” she whispered, her heart clenching.
Without thinking, she went over to him, tunneling her fingers through his hair and pressing his head to her chest, half hugging him while he still sat down. He tensed at first, but then his muscles relaxed, and he surrendered to her hug with a sigh. His hands wound around her waist, pulling her closer.
For the span of several heartbeats, they remained like this, something weaving between them, something that made her pulse race and her stomach bottom out. On an instinct that was as subtle as it was strong, born of a past that had bloodied her soul, she slowly pulled back, clearing her throat.
“I’m going to try to do the locator spell on the one sigil we found. I need to do it over at the murder site so I can tap into the sigil’s energy.” She went to leave, not meeting his gaze. Her insides felt too raw, too open. She had to put some space between them, to figure out why she felt so unmoored, like some powerful current was sweeping her away.
