What the Hex (Hex #2)(8)
Author: Jessica Clare

 

My nerves flare with anticipation when the perimeter spell around the house chimes, and I head for the door. Normally I’d let the housekeeping staff handle things, but since this is supposed to be top secret, I don’t want anyone asking questions. I race for the door like a breathless Schüler and open it wide before she can ring the bell.

 

The woman on the step is . . . not what I expected Ben Magnus to send over.

 

I’ve known Magnus for approximately 250 of my 270 years. The types of apprentices and witches he’s consorted with in the past have all been of a singular sort of personality—strong. Efficient. Understated. I suspect a lot of this is simply because Magnus himself doesn’t like attention, and he certainly doesn’t like explaining himself. I thought anyone he would send in my direction would be the sort of familiar he would take himself.

 

Instead, I find myself staring down at a tiny woman who can’t be more than five feet tall. She’s wearing an excessively pink-and-yellow dress with a round white collar, and her black hair is in an old-fashioned flip. She has a round face with a snub nose, and when she beams a smile in my direction, it’s so wide that her eyes practically disappear under her bangs.

 

“Oh em gee, hi there!”

 

It takes me a moment to realize she’s speaking English.

 

“I’m Penny! You must be Willem!” That face-swallowing smile of hers gets even wider, and she lifts her shoulders, as if she’s about to happily squirm on my porch like a puppy. “Can I come in?”

 

Wordless (and slightly aghast, if I’m honest), I step aside and let her in.

 

As she crosses the threshold into my house, I notice for the first time that not only is she dragging a garishly pink rolling suitcase behind her, but she has a large square birdcage in her other hand. It’s covered with an obnoxiously floral linen, and my nostrils flare in distaste at the realization that she’s brought a creature into my house. “Please tell me that’s not a bird.”

 

The woman laughs like a lunatic. “Of course not, silly. It’s a squirrel.”

 

“I’m sorry, did you say squirrel?”

 

She nods, staring up at the ceiling. “His name is Pipstachio and he’s very well behaved, I promise. Wow, you live in this place?”

 

“No,” I snap sarcastically. “I broke in and decided to answer the door for the owners. Of course I live here. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Penny gives me an odd look. “It was just a question.” Her sunny smile returns a moment later. “Ben told me that you chase everyone off. I thought he was exaggerating, because he’s kind of quiet himself, but I promise not to take anything you say to heart.”

 

“My goodness, thank you,” I say acidly. “God forbid I should harm your tender feelings.” I glance back at the open door, hoping—praying—that this is a mistake and that this candy-colored smiling woman is somehow the wrong person. That I’ve misinterpreted or she has the wrong address.

 

But no, Penny is the only one here . . . and Ben Magnus sent her.

 

That bastard. He knows how much I hate loud, obnoxiously happy people. And now he’s sent me one with a varmint in a cage? If I had the energy to curse someone, I’d curse his ass right now.

 

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter. All I need is the well of her energy. As long as she’s vaguely compatible for the job, I can use her. It doesn’t matter if I like her or not. As her employer, I can set the terms. I can do this. Even if she grates on my last nerve with her presence, I can just cast enough to keep her sleeping all the time. It’s not permanent. It’s a means to an end.

 

Right now it’s the only option I have.

 

“Oh em gee,” she breathes again, staring up at the ceiling molding. “Why is everything here gray?”

 

“Because gray is a soothing color.”

 

She pauses in front of the large Jackson Pollock I have in the entryway to my house. “This doesn’t look very soothing—”

 

“This is my fucking house,” I snap, buttoning my jacket tightly, a nervous habit. “And I like an elegant, neutral color. I like gray. I also like modern art that eschews tradition. I realize these are terms you clearly don’t understand, but you’ll simply have to make do when you visit this place. Follow me to my study and let’s discuss the rules of your employment, shall we?”

 

I don’t wait for an answer. I head down the hall and expect her to follow. After a moment, I hear a muttered comment and then the clack of her patent leather shoes on the floor. I unbutton my jacket again and sit down at my desk, glaring down my nose at her. She really is all wrong for me. I’m going to murder Ben Magnus with my bare hands. Behind my desk, I’m in the position of control, and I give her an imperious glance as she wanders in, staring at my library.

 

“Holy jeez,” she whispers, eyes wide as she gazes upon the neatly organized shelves of encyclopedias. “Have you read all these books?”

 

“I am two hundred and seventy years old,” I point out. My answer sounds petulant, even to my own ears, so I add, “But no. I haven’t read them all. These books are for decor. My real library is . . . elsewhere.”

 

She keeps staring at my bookshelves, fascinated, and slowly wanders over to the seats across from my desk. There, she sets the cage (and it takes everything I have not to snarl when she places it) upon a pale gray cushioned seat and sits down in the chair next to it. Her face squeezes up into that enormous happy smile again. “I think your office is bigger than my parents’ house.”

 

“Are your parents paupers, then?”

 

That smile drops, and I feel as if I kicked a puppy, which just makes my mood worse. “No. They’re both apprenticing with witches. I still live at home, though.”

 

I study her. After living for centuries, it’s difficult for me to tell the ages of people. She doesn’t look like a schoolgirl, but if that’s the case, why is she living at home? “Your age?”

 

Her cheeks flush. “I’m thirty, actually. I thought I’d live at home for a few years after high school while I was waiting to apprentice.” She bites her lip and fiddles with her skirt, smoothing it over and over again. “Just didn’t think it would take this long.”

 

“Mmm.” Well, it sounds like she’s as desperate as I am. Perhaps that’s why Magnus sent her my direction. “Are you still interested in the job? Even knowing that you’ll be working with me? I’m sure Magnus filled your head with how vile I am.”