The Ex Hex

by Erin Sterling

May I kiss you? and she’d said, Now? and he’d smiled that slow smile and said, Now is preferable, but I’m open to whatever your schedule allows,

It was illegal, was what it was, and she was going to lodge some kind of complaint with the Witches Council as soon as she—

drink. “We’re cursing this dickbag,” Gwyn replied with a grin.

“Some things” apparently meaning, “Tell my dad to call off my actual wedding to a stranger,” and then he’d had the nerve to be shocked that she was shocked, and actually, yes, they should definitely curse this dickbag.

Okay, so yes, Rhys had broken her heart. Yes, he hadn’t told her his father was in the process of finding him a wife. No discussion, no warning, no care for how she might’ve felt about the whole thing. One Hundred Percent Dickbag Moves.

“Goddess, we beseech you that this man shall never again darken Vivi’s door nor her vagina.”

“Goddess, we beseech you to make sure his hair never does that thing again. You know the thing we mean.” “She totally does.”

“Goddess, we beseech you to make him the sort of man who will forever think the clitoris is exactly one-third of an inch away from where it actually is.”

Vivi wasn’t sure she’d ever sobered up so fast in her life.

“Never mix vodka and witchcraft.”

Now, let’s clean up all this salt before Aunt Elaine comes up here and figures out we were drinking and magicking.”

you’re full of shite, mate.”

Rhys was wondering why he hadn’t at least stayed at the pub long enough to have a pint. Possibly three.

Rhys’s father had a tendency to say “England” as though he meant a sordid pit of debauchery,

Rhys was certain the look on his father’s face wasn’t pride because he was equally certain that Simon taking pride in anything Rhys said or did would cause a rip in the fabric of space and time, but at the very least, his father didn’t look actively irritated with him, and that was something.

it had been so easy to put off telling her. Until it wasn’t and she had, quite rightly, called him every name in the book, including some he’d never heard of, and stormed out.

So beautiful. And so bloody sweet. He’d felt like someone had hit him solidly in the chest when he’d seen her there at the Solstice Revel, standing under a violet sky, a flower crown crooked on her head. She’d smiled at him, and it had been . . . Instant. Irrevocable. A fucking disaster.

“I . . . felt . . . ,” he said now, remembering, “as though I might . . . have loving feelings.” St. Bugi’s balls, that had been hard. How did people just go about talking like this all the time?

“No offense, Vivi, but I love your aunt more than I love you.” “None taken,” Vivi said. “She’s magic.”

“Rhiannon’s tits,” Gwyn said, sitting up so fast that her knee nearly clocked her glass. “They are sending him.”

And!” She lifted a finger in the air. “I have had many boyfriends since him!” “To be fair, you’ve had three.” “Which is more than two, which is ‘a couple,’ so therefore is many, Gwyn, whose side are you on?”

He’d gotten a speeding ticket roughly five seconds after he’d passed the sign welcoming him to Graves Glen. Annoying and expensive (and, to his mind, slightly unjust, given that he was only going ten miles over and the town wouldn’t bloody well exist without his family), but not enough to ruin his day.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” a very familiar voice breathed, and ah, yes, yes, of course. The universe still clearly hated him.

Even after nine years. Even in the dark. Fuck’s sake.

“I know, but it’s my favorite story. I want it played at both my wedding and my funeral. I want to do it as a dramatic monologue at an open mic night. I want—

“You almost ran your ex-boyfriend over with a car, and then left him lying in the literal dirt on the side of the road. It is such a big deal, you absolute queen.”

Absolutely Queen frr

He is the worst, he is the worst, he is the actual, literal worst.

And he’s definitely not dead, I did not actually leave him to die or get eaten by wolves, there aren’t any wolves left in Georgia, I’m pretty sure. Although there are bears

That slow smile had once completely undone her, and now made her want to smack it off his face. Or kiss it. One or the other.

“We’re closed.” “You very obviously are not.” “We’re closed to any and all exes of Vivi’s, and you qualify, sooooo . . .”

If only she weren’t so damned pretty. If only he hadn’t been the biggest cock-up this side of the Atlantic nine years ago.

“What do you think?” “I think that if you keep calling him ‘the Dickbag,’ you can’t also act like you’re a matchmaking tween in a Disney movie.” “I contain multitudes.”

“The Full Potter,” he repeated. “Not finding out you’re a witch until you’re older, not growing up with it. ‘Yer a witch, Vivi,’ that sort of thing.”

he wondered why his ancestors couldn’t have laid down ley lines somewhere warmer, somewhere a little less damp. Beaches needed magic, surely. But no, his ancestor had apparently been the sort of grim fucker who preferred caves, so now Rhys was dodging dark puddles of water and slime-covered rocks.

“St. Bugi’s balls,”

“I just . . . need to get my bearings a bit.” “Mmmm,” Vivienne said, crossing her arms. “And do your bearings tell you there’s a hidden opening just past your left shoulder?”

Couldn’t they just look on it as a little formality, one last kiss before they parted forever? That was romantic. Epic, even. Didn’t a man get to be epically romantic in a magic cave?

“Did you seriously bring me,” she asked through clenched teeth, “to a magic sex cave?”

“Ah, yes, the old ‘Father, will this job you’re sending me to do involve a magic sex cave?’ talk. Truly, I was remiss not to have it.”

Rhiannon’s tits. “So, um. Rhys.” He turned and faced her, his eyes still wide, his chest still heaving, and Vivi offered up a shaky smile. “Funny story for you.”

Something thumped against his ankle, and Rhys looked down to see one of the plastic skulls grinning up at him. “Steady on, mate,” he muttered, wondering if he was talking to the skull or to himself.

“Ladies,” he said with a smile when he reached them, “hopefully we’ve all learned a valuable lesson about ordering things off dodgy websites!”

“Nicely done, dickbag,”

Do not notice how nice her legs look as she’s stepping over possessed pieces of plastic, you absolute pervert,

“ ‘Never mix witchcraft with vodka,’ ” he read, then nodded. “Solid advice, that.”

a word,” he reminded her. “You threw my own pants at me. You weren’t brokenhearted, you were angry.” “Right, because no woman has ever been both those things at the same time,”

“Ah, the times I’ve asked myself, ‘What can my father do about something other than be a dick,’ only to find out he can do plenty.”

“It seems pretty bad, Mom,” Gwyn said, frowning. “Speaking as someone nearly eaten by plastic.”

“Good,” Vivi said. “So that’s it. We have a plan. A . . . kind of half-ass one, but a plan nonetheless.” “Quarter-ass, if you ask me,”

What was unusual was that he blinked his yellow-green eyes at her, yawned and then said, “Treats.” Now it was Vivi’s turn to blink. “Dreaming,” she muttered to herself.