Left Hand Magic (Golgotham, #2)

Chapter 18

 

I love taking showers with the man in my life. Always have, alwaysed upund will. It fosters an intimacy even greater than lovemaking, as it combines the sensuality and vulnerability of naked flesh with the bonding of mutual grooming. It's been my experience that people are at their most honest and real when they're covered in soap.

 

"You know, my heart nearly stopped when I realized it was you Esau was dangling from the rafters," Hexe said as he shampooed the temporary dye from my hair. "I'm still a little ticked off that you lied to me."

 

I wiped the soap out of my eyes and glanced over my shoulder. "But you did the exact same thing."

 

"That's different," he protested.

 

"Why? Because you're a man?"

 

"No. Don't be silly," he replied. He motioned to the amulet I still wore about my neck. "I lied to protect you. I have magic. I can defend myself. Your lie put you in real danger. That gladeye I gave you is only good against curses. It can't protect you against levitation spells or a fistful of hellfire."

 

"I realize that now. But I didn't lie to you for the thrill of it. I realize there is a certain amount of risk that comes with living in Golgotham. I knew that infiltrating Esau's rally was dangerous, but I did it anyway because I believed it was important for me to see with my own two eyes what I was up against. You have to stop treating me like I'm a tourist, Hexe. Believe it or not, I know what the score is."

 

"But you don't have magic. . . ."

 

"Neither does Kidron or Giles Gruff, and they seem to get along just fine," I countered. "In fact, I've lived my entire life up to now without magic. Not being able to sling spells and cook up potions shouldn't change how I think or live my life, any more than your inability to sculpt or use a blowtorch should impact yours. I could just as easily get hit by a car while I'm crossing Broadway as be cursed, you know. I just have to keep my eyes open and be aware of my surroundings to make sure neither of those things happens. Granted, tonight wasn't the greatest idea I've ever acted on-but now that I know what I'm up against, I won't be making the mistake of letting anyone with a KUP membership pin anywhere near me again."

 

"I know you must have been terrified."

 

"It went beyond being scared, Hexe." I shuddered, despite the warmth of the water cascading over my body. "It was degrading. When Esau levitated me, I was not only utterly helpless-I was completely at the mercy of someone else. Someone who I knew saw me as a thing, not a person. But what made it worse was the fact the audience laughed like I was an animal being baited for their amusement. Now I know how Jared felt when he was turned into a pig."

 

"It is very easy for Kymerans to view those without magic as lesser beings," Hexe explained sadly. "It is not a trait of our people I am proud of."

 

I turned to look at him again. "Is that how you see me?"

 

"Of course not," he replied, carefully wiping away the shampoo trickling down my face before it reached my eyes. "You're right, I can't do what you do with metal, and I am in awe of it. There's a special fire inside of you that manifests itself in your artwork. To me, that is a kind of magic in itself. But, more important, you are the only woman-human or Kymeran-to accept my dedication to the Right Hand Path. And that includes my mother."

 

"Your mom might not completely understand you, Hexe, bu yohing,t that doesn't mean she doesn't accept you for who you are. Believe me, I know the difference." I sighed as I rinsed the last of the dye from my hair. "This is kind of changing the subject, but why didn't you say something to Captain Horn about Esau's familiar attacking your mother's carriage? I mean, I can understand why you didn't want to act as a spy against your uncle, but why withhold that kind of information?"

 

"The royal family handles its own," Hexe replied matter-of-factly. "It's been that way since Lord Bexe battled his brother, General Vlad." He leaned into me and wrapped his arms about my waist so that the water from the shower was now pouring over both of us. "I'm sorry you had to experience my people at their worst. It would never have happened if I'd simply told you I was going to the rally. I promise you'll never be treated like that again."

 

I loved him so much at that exact moment, my heart and eyes filled themselves, and all I could do was smile up at him, because I knew that if I tried to say anything, I would burst into tears. So I reached up and pulled his head down and gave him a long, slow, deep, sensuous kiss that was a mere hint of the far more delicious merger to follow.

 

Like I said, the shower is a good place for bonding. It's also a great place to get dirty.

 

A half hour later we were lying in bed together, Beanie tucked between us, stretched out like a pork loin, snoring like the world's cutest buzz saw.

 

"I must admit, when I bought him, I didn't fully understand the attraction of a pet," Hexe said as he watched Beanie's paws twitch. "But now I can't imagine my life without this little guy."

 

"Yeah, they'll do that to you." I chuckled as I scratched the dozing puppy behind the ears. Beanie responded by snoring louder and stretching out his little legs even farther in order to take up as much of the bed as doggishly possible.

 

Hexe raised himself onto his elbow. "What do you think he's chasing in his dream?"

 

"He's probably pursuing something unobtainable, just like us, but in his case it's a chicken bone or a chocolate chip cookie, instead of world peace."

 

"If I want to know what Scratch is thinking, I just ask him. It seems strange, not being able to do that with Beanie. I mean, how do I know when he's hungry, or needs to go outside?"

 

"Don't worry-he'll let you know." I smiled. "All you have to do is pay attention to him and be a good daddy."

 

"Like I know anything about that," he scoffed.

 

I'd been waiting for Hexe to get around to telling me about his father of his own free will, but I now realized that simply wasn't going to happen. It was up to me to broach the subject.

 

"Can I ask you something about your dad?"

 

Hexe glanced at me, his golden eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the bedroom. "What about him?"

 

"Is he dead? I mean, you never talk about him. . . ."

 

"He might be," he replied with a shrug. "To tell you the truth, I don't know who he is. My mother never told me his name, and the rest of her family refused to speak of him."

 

"Why?" I frowned. "Was the divorce that ugly?"

 

"My parents were never married. But math="1emthe reason my grandparents and uncle never talked about him around me was because he wasn't a member of the aristocracy."

 

"How do you know that?"

 

"Because my hair isn't blue," he said wryly. "There's a reason Kymeran hair is the color it is. Back in ye oldie days-before Kymera sank-there were three distinct castes: the Aristocrats, the Crafters, and the Servitors. The Aristocrats had blue hair and were the ones with the strongest magic. The Crafters had yellow hair and were talented in the creation of talismans, scrying stones, tarot cards, and the like. The Servitors were-well, they were redheaded and served the Aristocrats. And so it went for millennia.

 

"Then, fifteen thousand years ago, Kymera was drowned by a massive tsunami. Only a hundred Kymerans managed to escape the Deluge on their dragons. My ancestor, Lord Arum, led them to New Kymera, in what would become Eastern Europe. Because there were so few left, the castes were forced to mingle, and that's when green, orange, and purple hair began to appear among my people. Yet the royal family has always remained some shade of blue, at least until I came along

 

"As far as Esau's concerned, my mother disgraced the family beyond all forgiveness, and it galls him that when she dies, a half-caste will inherit the title of Witch King. Of course, if I'd been born with my mother's blue hair, instead of her golden eyes, he would have automatically become the next in line and reclaimed the title."

 

"What does the color of your eyes have to do with it?"

 

"Only the descendants of Arum have golden eyes," he explained. "And only they may claim the throne."

 

I thought about it for a second, and realized that of all the Kymerans I'd met since moving to Golgotham, only Hexe and his immediate family shared the same distinctive golden eyes.

 

"I can understand why your uncle and grandparents wouldn't talk about your father. But what about your mother? Haven't you asked Lady Syra about him?"

 

"Once or twice, when I was a boy," he replied wistfully. "All she would say was that they had loved each other. It upset her so much, I dropped the subject. I do know that it was my grandfather who ordered her to end the relationship. It broke her heart, but she did what was expected of her. Of course, she didn't realize she was pregnant at the time she sent him away. Even if she had, it still would not have changed anything.

 

"My mother having a child out of wedlock was not a scandal. But when my hair started to grow in, the aristocracy was outraged. The fact she'd had an affair with a Servitor was nowhere near as appalling as her decision to give birth to his child. My people are not famous for their fertility. There are barely a million of us worldwide. The fact that my mother chose to carry me to full term-knowing I was a half-caste-was a slap in the face to the blue hairs.

 

"My grandfather always felt guilty for what he did to my mother, and he worked hard to replace my father in my life. I love and treasure his memory. But I do not delude myself. If I had been born with my father's eyes, Lord Eben would have placed me with a foster-family of trolls, hidden away where my mother could never have found me. He told me as much, when I was five."

 

"What a terrible thing to say to a child!" I gasped. Up to this point, I had assumed that Hexe's family, with the exception of dear old Uncle Esau, were far more functional than my own. But now I was starting to see that they had much more in commonmortion with the Borgias than the Waltons. "I can't believe he would've done something like that to his own daughter and grandson."

 

"We witches and warlocks have earned our reputations," Hexe replied with a sad smile, "even among ourselves."