Barely Bewitched by Kimberly Frost Page A

Jordan, which kind of surprised me.
    At the table, there was a three-quarters-full bottle of tequila and three glasses. Two had golden liquor left in the bottom. One sat empty.
    Incendio blew a perfect smoke ring as I sat down. “Red,” he said with a nod of greeting.
    “It’s Tammy Jo, Mr. Maldaron.”
    “Where’s my cat?”
    “Since you’re acquainted, you know Merc’s his own kitty. He doesn’t feel the need to consult me on his comings and goings.”
    Incendio shoved the three shot glasses together and tipped the open bottle over them. Tequila splashed down into all three and over their sides onto the table. He set the bottle down and reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a little bottle of Tabasco sauce.
    I said, “I don’t drink.” With wizards. Especially if they have tattoos of fire-breathing skeletons.
    Incendio shook the Tabasco and eyed me through the smoke haze.
    Trying to play peacekeeper, Jordan said, “Surely, you can manage one drink. Perhaps we’ll have a toast.”
    Incendio tapped two drops of the hot sauce into each shot glass, and it shimmied into the gold liquid. He slid a glass in front of me.
    “ A la verdad . You give the toast, English.”
    Jordan leaned back, pursing his lips. “I think a simple toast is always best. As you said, to the truth.”
    Incendio shook his head. “You can do better, amigo. Give us some of that Anglo poetry.” Incendio pulled a match free from a matchbook on the table. He whispered a couple words. There was a hiss, and flames danced on the tops of our tequila shots. He dropped the match in the ashtray, and I was startled to see that it hadn’t been struck. The red flint was still perfect.
    I guessed he’d pulled it out so that anyone nearby would assume he’d used a match, rather than a spell, to light those drinks. Momma and Aunt Mel had been good at that kind of thing, too. They said that people’s minds would fill in what they expected to see, and all that a witch had to do to conceal her minor public spell-casting was to learn a little sleight of hand.
    The flames on the liquor flickered and disappeared. Jordan licked his fingertip and touched the drops of tequila that had spilled on the table. He drew a small symbol in front of each of us. It was like a Y with an extra prong between the upper branches. Mine’s tail was extra long and curly.
    Jordan and Incendio lifted their glasses and waited. I fidgeted, knowing, sure as I’m twenty-three, that they were up to something.
    “What’s the point of having red hair, if you’re as yellow as a stick of butter on the inside?” Incendio sneered.
    “Pardon me?”
    “You’re from Texas, and you’re too chicken to drink one tequila shot?” he challenged. “Maybe we need to get you a kiddie drink with a little pink umbrella.”
    I stuck my chin out. I knew he was goading me, and my pride made me want to pick up my drink, but I knew better. I forced a smile. “I’d like two pink umbrellas in my kiddie drink, thanks.”
    Incendio picked up the glass and set it down hard in front of me. “You’ll drink with us or you’re on your own with that challenge in a couple days.”
    I looked at Jordan.
    “There’s no harm in it, love. Have a drink with us.”
    I gritted my teeth, but picked up the glass.
    Jordan smiled. “There’s a good love.” His voice was low and melodic as he said:
By the fire and the flame
All truth speaks first
From thy lips in thy shame
All lies are cursed.
    Sure it was a spell. Sure I only had about eight days of experience with whatever little spark of power I have, compared to these guys who were trained up and dangerous. Sure I was in a dark bar full of men, at night, drinking with strangers. So, if I got into trouble, a lot of people might say I got what I had coming since I should have known better. But the truth spell was going to affect all of us, and I wanted answers.
    I poured that tequila down my throat as fast as Incendio downed his. My