Chapter 12

Twelve

A week or so later…

Esau arrived at his new offices inside the North End Boston PD Building for his first day back after the New Year. He slid off his jacket and approached the receptionist to offer a good morning and was cut off before he could get out the first word.

"They're all gone. You just missed them."

"Who'sgone?"

"Eric and the team. They've got a body. They headed out about five-ten minutes ago."

"No one called me," Esau said, jaw clenched. He got the impression Eric, the outgoing CSI Senior Investigator, didn't want to give up his team and was doing his damnedest to fuck with Esau at every turn. The man was leaving the city, having taken a job with the FBI, so why he had to be an asshole on his way out was beyond Esau. He'd be gone soon, and Esau couldn't wait for the day.

"Eric said you can take the other SUV." She lifted a set of keys off the desk. "And call him for the location."

Esau grabbed the keys and growled internally. "Thanks."

After a quick call to Eric to get the directions, he slipped his coat on and headed to the parking garage. He used the fob to determine which vehicle—a late model Blazer that looked as if it had seen better days—and slipped behind the wheel. It stunk to high heaven, and the inside was a wreck.

Fucking Eric.

He plugged the address into Siri to help him get around the confusing city. Nothing made sense in Boston, and Siri had even struggled a few times before. Eric had given him some landmarks to look out for, but he didn't know how much to trust them. He pulled out and headed toward the crime scene.

And soon got lost.

It was early rush hour, and the streets were clogged, making his journey even harder. When he finally arrived, he had to park almost three blocks away, thanks to a cluster of cop cars, an ambulance, the ME's vehicle, the other CSI vehicles, and the spectators vying for a view.

He jogged down the sidewalk toward the cluster of cops and yellow caution tape ahead. He slowed as he neared the alley between two businesses, shaking his head. He lifted his badge to the uniformed cop keeping onlookers at bay and passed under the tape.

"Get lost?" Eric asked, grinning.

"Funny," Esau spat. "You told me to turn at the Dunkin Donuts. Those places are on every damned corner in this city."

Eric laughed. "I said the one on Freedom Trail."

"There was another one a couple of blocks ahead of it on Freedom Trail," Esau replied.

Eric smiled. "Hey, we like ‘em. And I forgot about that other one, sorry. It's new."

"Sure." Esau tucked away his irritation. Eric wanted him riled, clearly, so instead of giving the man what he wanted, he'd ignore it. Soon enough, Eric would be gone.

He glanced over at the team at work, noting some of them chuckling as they collected evidence. Soon, they would be his team. He wasn't thrilled they might've been in on the gag, knew he'd gotten lost, and that they were laughing at him. A leader needed to be strong. In control. And know how to lead the way. He'd need to study maps of the city and get better acquainted with it. He'd hardly had any time to explore since arriving. "What do we have here?"

"The neighboring business owner came out to discard some empty boxes from an early morning delivery and found our victim here lying in a pool of blood. Two shots to the head. She called it in moments later."

Esau turned to scan the crowd of onlookers. Suspects often lingered about, watching the police collect evidence of the crime, enjoying their handiwork. No one stuck out to him. He turned back to Eric and then the business.

Esau glanced to the side, noticing a Wiccan shop. He pointed. "This place?"

"Yep," Eric said. "Weird lady. Wackadoo."

"She's likely in shock."

Eric shook his head. "She's as cool as a cucumber. Keeps talking to imaginary people in the midst of relaying her story. Wouldn't be surprised if she was in on it. Who the hell comes in at five in the morning for a delivery at a shop like that? The hours on the front door say it opens at ten."

If there were actual witches in Boston, there's a chance they could help Joaquin and him hide from the Assassins. He needed inside that shop to see if she was real or not. "Mind if I go ask a few questions?"

"Sure," Eric said. "Good luck, though. You're not going to get much out of her."

He crossed the scene and entered the door. The strong scent of sandalwood assaulted his nose, along with another mixing in he couldn't name. Crystals and witchy paraphernalia were scattered on every shelf, cramped in tight in the small space. And it was hot, like sauna hot. He slid out of his jacket as he struggled to wend his way through the displays on his way to the back, where he noticed a detective speaking with who he presumed was the owner. A beat cop hung near the back, keeping watch.

"I'll be back in a minute," the detective said, closing his notepad and shoving it in his pocket. "See if you can get your story straight before I get back."

A woman with frizzy white hair, bushy eyebrows, and a bright blue and purple caftan smiled at him. "Nothing about me is straight, Detective. I'm all chaos, curves, and swiggles."

The detective sighed, shaking his head. He turned and nearly ran into Esau. The man looked Esau up and down. "What're you doing in here?"

"I'm the new CSI Investigator," Esau murmured. He immediately didn't like the man. He had an air of superiority too many cops had—the very reason he'd left the force himself.

"Shouldn't you be out at the scene?"

"We talk to witnesses, too. Helps ensure we're collecting every shred of evidence we can."

The detective snorted. "Good luck with this one." He glanced over his shoulder. "Officer Mariano is staying to make sure our little witch doesn't disappear on us." He brushed past Esau in the narrow pathway and headed for the door.

Esau eyed the woman as she slowly lifted a thin cigar to her even thinner lips. Her hand moved with grace and not an ounce of trembling. He neared slowly, smiling. "Morning, ma'am."

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" She lifted her hand again to take another puff, but stopped and cocked her head to the side. "You're not like the other ones." She slid off the stool she'd been perched on and ambled closer. "No… you're not like the rest."

"I'm not a detective. Well, not exactly. I'm with the crime scene investigators."

She moved a bit closer, sliding a hand up his chest.

"Ma'am,"he cautioned, taking a half-step back.

Her hand whipped up to the collar of his work polo and shoved the neck aside, bearing his mate's mark.

She smiled. "A human mate."

"It's a tattoo," Esau fibbed, eyeing the uniformed cop in the corner before glaring at her, silently begging her to stop. "Nothing more."

She winked at him. "Yeah. Sure."

"I was hoping you might provide me with some details about what you witnessed this morning."

"For you? Anything, sweetheart." She slid back onto her stool. "But I'm afraid I don't have much to tell you."

Esau pulled out his notepad. "You might be more helpful than you know. Can you tell me about your morning? From the time you arrived to the time the first police officer arrived."

"I came in early for a delivery at five."

"What was being delivered?"

"Crystals," she answered. "A whole collection of them." She pointed to the large, shining set behind her. "An old, ancient set, filled with ancestral magic. I've been trying to get my hands on them for years."

"Seems awfully early to come in for a delivery. Why so early?"

"This time of year, they're playing catch up after Christmas. Drivers are working all kinds of crazy hours. I had to be here, or the box might've disappeared."

Possible, but Esau sensed it wasn't the truth.

The witch grabbed his wrist in a lock, Esau couldn't pull away. Esau glanced to the side and noticed the officer stood still, one hand lifting a cup of coffee to his lips frozen in time. The sounds of traffic outside were gone. The cops and onlookers outside the window were frozen, as well.

"Salem. Go to Salem, mijo."

He recognized the voice immediately, even as it came from the other woman's mouth. "Abuelita?"

"Si, mi amor.Go to Salem. That's where you'll find safety. Among the witches there. Now ask this woman your questions. Be quick about it. I can't keep time stopped long."

"Wait! Where in Salem?"

His grandmother didn't answer. The witch shook her head and blinked a few times, appearing confused. After a few seconds, she smiled. "Your grandmother. A bruja." She smiled wider and moved in a little closer. "She loves you very much. Whatever message she just delivered, you'd best take it to heart."

"You are a witch."

"Just a medium. My power lies in communication with the dead. This was my grandmother's shop. She was the true witch. Just like yours."

Esau glanced at the frozen cop. "We don't have much time. Can you tell me what really happened this morning?"

The woman sighed. "I meet with clients before the store opens, channeling loved ones and the like. It's labeled as fortune telling by the city, and I don't have a license for that. The police are none too kind to fortunetellers in Boston. They're considered frauds. Charlatans. I get enough harassment from the city. I don't need more by announcing what talents I have to the government, so no license."

"You had clients this morning?"

"I did. Three of them. All of them in their seventies and all disabled in some way. None of them committed that crime. Neither did I."

"Who did? You connect to the dead. Can you speak to the victim?"

"He's lingering about, confused. Inside here and back out to the alley and in again. Unable to see the light, though I suspect he might be headed down south, not north. I've asked him several times to tell me his story, but he's unwilling. I'll keep trying, but I can't make any promises he'll share anything."

The sounds of traffic and voices outside the window filtered in. He glanced to the side, and the cop was sipping his coffee. His grandmother's spell had lifted.

A piece of paper from the top of a pile on the counter suddenly floated into the air, as if cast on the wind, and landed on top of Esau's notepad.

Beyond Gender – Salem

Support group for local preternatural trans adults. Meets every first Thursday of the month at 7 p.m. at the Tabernacle Congregational Church, Washington Street, Salem. Come for the fellowship and discussion. Hope to see you there!

"Salem"whispered through his mind in his grandmother's voice.

Esau folded the flyer and tucked it into his pants pocket. He grabbed another flyer and scribbled his name and number on the back before handing it over. "I'm new to the job, so I don't have business cards yet. If you remember anything else, give me a call."

She took the sheet from his outstretched hands and smiled. She crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. He leaned in.

"Only supernatural beings and their mates can read those flyers. You'll be safe there," she whispered.

Esau nodded. "Thanks for the information."

She patted his cheek. "Your mate's a lucky man. So's your witch."

My witch?Esau frowned, backing away. "My witch?"

She shrugged. "Meh. What do I know?"

His frown deepened before he shook it off and returned outside. Esau ambled toward Eric, who stood at the edges watchful over the team.

"Get anything?"

Esau shook his head. "A bunch of gobbledygook," he lied.

"I warned you." Eric lifted an evidence bag. "We've found the two shells lodged into the brick and the casings as well. All have been photographed and tagged. Ariella found a partial footprint over by the…"

Esau did the best he could to focus on what Eric relayed, but his grandmother's words kept whispering through his head. He slid a hand into his pocket and fondled the folded paper there, his mind already headed to Salem. A short train ride and they'd be there.

Suddenly he noticed Joaquin in the crowd of bystanders. Panic filled him, but he calmed as he sensed his mate was simply watching. Watching for what? The second the team wrapped up, he turned, cocked his head, urging Joaquin to follow him to his new work vehicle.

A block and a half away, his mate fell into lockstep beside him.

"What're you doing here?"

"Protecting you."

"From?" He need not ask. The Assassins. "I don't need a babysitter."

"We have demons on our tail. My job is to protect you."

"I've done a fine job of protecting myself all these years. I'll be fine. Go back to the hotel."

"I won't be able to focus on work with you out here, knowing the Assassins could be around any corner."

"I may have found help with that."

"Oh?" Joaquin asked. "I'm all ears."

"The woman who called in that body was a medium. She channeled my grandmother—or rather, I think my grandmother took over for a few minutes. She told us we need to go to Salem."

"First it was Boston. Now it's Salem. Where will she send us next?"

Esau stopped beside the crappy little SUV and turned to face Joaquin. "She helped get us out of San Diego and was right about this job." He winced, the job not exactly feeling like a good fit. Hopefully once Eric was gone, things would improve. "Let's give her a little credit."

"Fine."

Esau dug out the flyer and handed it over.

Joaquin opened it up and scanned it, handing it back. "I don't need a support group."

"It can't hurt to connect with folks experiencing what you are."

"Baby, you know jaguars are solitary creatures. I don't need anyone but you. And honestly, we have more pressing concerns."

"Salem's supposedly filled with folks like you."

"The Witch City. Isn't that what they call it?" Joaquin said. "It says nothing about shifters."

"I've heard it's all kinds. Witches, shifters, and more. Maybe we can find someone there to help us, too. Get a spell to help hide us from the Assassins."

"I doubt the place is filled with people like me, just humans masquerading as witches. It's a tourist trap, profiting off their ancestors' misdeeds."

"This flyer blew off the counter and landed on my notebook. I think my grandmother sent it. I think she wants you to go." Esau pointed at it. "And tonight is the first Thursday of the month."

Joaquin was silent.

"Go to the meeting. If there really are shifters and such there, ask about the local covens—who's got real power and can be trusted—and then you never have to go back if it's not your thing, okay?"

Joaquin eyed him a moment before glancing down the street and sighed. He turned back and forced a smile. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to check the place out. Maybe have dinner while we're there? Call it a date night."

"Dinner sounds good." Esau folded the flyer and lifted it in one hand. "After the meeting."

Joaquin shook his head.

Esau lifted a brow. He wasn't going to allow Joaquin's dislike of socializing to keep them from listening to a message from beyond. His grandmother had kept them safe thus far, so they needed to follow along.

"Fine."

Esau fought a victorious smile by biting the inside of his lip. He shoved the flyer back into his pocket, witnessing the telltale signs that Joaquin wasn't pleased. If he thinks he's irritated now? Just wait. "Didn't you just accept another freelance job? Go home and get to work."

Joaquin's head flipped up, fire in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I'll tell one of those officers down the street that you need to be taken in for questioning. Maybe you saw who did it."

Joaquin growled, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not letting you win this time. I gave in at Christmas, but no more," Esau said, standing firm. In most cases, he let Joaquin lead, but he wasn't having it.

"This time? When do I ever win when it comes to you?"

Esau scoffed. "I'll see you tonight. Be ready to catch the train to Salem."

"Yes, sir," Joaquin said, saluting. His expression hardened as he turned and ambled down the street.

Esau stared at his mate's back, a hint of a smile on his lips. Joaquin cast a look over one shoulder and caught him, which only made him smile more. His mate glared, shaking his head, and rounded the corner.

He searched the street before sliding behind the wheel of the crappy SUV and headed back to the office to begin the arduous task of sorting all the evidence they'd collected.

After a brief,quiet train ride to Salem with Esau, Joaquin followed the signs toward a meeting room at the back of the church, body tense. He wasn't in the mood to discuss his transness with a room full of strangers and was sure they weren't what they claimed to be. He'd heard a lot of talk about Salem, wannabe witches and the like congregated there. There was no way that real witches would stick around a place that advertised they were there.

Yet he'd sensed magic the minute they'd walked off the train. With each step down Washington Street, that power had grown. Something had been beckoning him farther, past the church and shops, toward a pulsing power emanating a few blocks away. He'd not given into the desire, unsure what it was.

And sure his mate would kill him if he didn't attend the meeting.

He'd left Esau in the coffee shop next door to the church, much to his displeasure. While he knew his mate could hold his own when it came to demons, Esau had never fought them without Joaquin. Leaving him alone with a threat looming went against everything in him—it's not like they could salt the doors and windows of a public establishment. Yet Esau was adamant he could fend for himself.

Joaquin would stay for a few minutes for Esau's sake, long enough to say he tried, and then go find somewhere good to eat. After his belly was full, he'd take his mate home and fuck them both into oblivion in the relative safety of their hotel room. That sounded a hell of a lot better than a roomful of paranormal wannabes.

A large circle of chairs was already filled when he entered the space. He gave the colorful group of mostly rainbow-haired folks one look and wanted to leave then and there. No seats left? No problem. He turned to get the hell out of there.

"We've got plenty of chairs!" a voice rang out. "Don't go."

Joaquin rested his hand on the door release and took a deep breath. When he turned back, a handsome orange-haired transman patted a newly available seat beside him, beckoning him closer. Joaquin trudged closer, still wanting to leave.

And then he got a scent of a shifter.

And another.

As well as a few witches. None with any real power, but enough to classify them as hedge witches, he supposed.

His shoulders eased some. These were his people. In more ways than one. So why did he still want to run?

After removing his jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair, he sat down, all eyes on him. Most of them smiled broadly, while others looked at him with curiosity. He glanced at the orange-haired shifter he was seated beside and sensed house cat. A familiar, potentially?

"I'm glad you stayed. We haven't had anyone new in a long, long time," the woman who'd called him back said. "And having another shifter helps balance the group. We're outnumbered by the witches in here."

"Because we're more awesome than you," a petite male hedge said.

A growl came in response from the transman beside him. Joaquin scented the air again, confused. If the guy was a house cat, he acted more like a wild, feral one than some fat, pampered pet.

"Calm down, Qhuinn. No fighting tonight," the woman said. She turned her attention to Joaquin. "I'm Annie, and it's lovely to meet you. Would you like to introduce yourself to the group?"

"Joaquin," he murmured.

"He doesn't want to be here," a witch said. "He's only here because his mate asked him to come."

"You can stay out of my head," Joaquin snapped.

"Then stop projecting it so loud that I can't help but hear it," the witch shot back, lifting a brow.

"Now, now," Annie said, her voice calming. "Let's not run the jaguar out the door before he's had a chance to see we're harmless." She again turned to Joaquin. "Tonight, we'd planned to discuss body dysmorphia and how we can work toward coming to terms with our bodies and learning to accept and love them."

Joaquin scoffed. One of Annie's brows rose, but she didn't respond.

"I'll start," Annie said. "Unless someone else would like to go first?"

No one stepped up.

"Okay, then I guess it's me," Annie said. "As some of you know, my journey to loving the body I have has been a long and bumpy one, but I have never openly shared my struggle to get where I am today. I think I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable talking about it and hope it might help someone here tonight."

Joaquin sat up straighter, seeing the inner struggle within flashing in the emotions crossing her face.

"When I first realized who I really was, I could barely stand to look in the mirror. The person I saw there wasn't the me I saw in my head. Estrogen helped. Makeup, dressing in feminine clothes and changing my pronouns was hard at first, especially when my family and some friends refused to accept the new me, but in time, it helped my dysphoria, as well. So did the facial surgeries and the boob job. But no matter how much I did to change my outside appearance, it never felt like enough. I wasn't enough." She paused, her eyes shining brightly. "I had episodes of self-harm. I attempted to unalive myself and nearly succeeded."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away. Joaquin hardened himself against her emotions, so similar to his own. "I was fortunate. My mother finally realized that she was going to lose her child if she didn't face the fact that I am who I am. She stood up to my asshole father—and let me tell you, that was earthshaking in and of itself. It gave me something I didn't realize how desperately I needed. My mother's acceptance." She wiped another tear, smiling. "She ultimately left him because he refused to accept me. She became my advocate. Found me mental health services. And then I found this group and Lenny."

Joaquin sensed a wave of sadness wash over the entire group.

Annie glanced his way. "Lenny was our leader for a long, long time. We lost him last year to cancer." Another tear escaped, which she wiped away. "We miss him and his leadership very much. He was a big cat shifter, too, so having you here makes me smile. Thank you for that."

Joaquin nodded respectfully.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes… finding this group. While my mother, my therapist, and the antidepressants helped a lot, I think Lenny and you all here saved my life. Being able to sit in a room without judgment, with folks experiencing some of the same things I had, it was a blessing. And it helped me realize that I am enough. My body parts do not define who I really and truly am."

"Do you plan to continue your transition?" Qhuinn asked.

"If you mean bottom surgery, no." She glanced around the group. "Will some slightly frank talk upset anyone? I don't want to cross any lines."

Joaquin tensed. While a part of him wanted her to continue, he wasn't sure he could hear it.

"I'm fine with it," another member of the group said as others nodded.

Annie met his stare. "And you, Joaquin? This is your first meeting. I don't want to scare you away on the first night."

Joaquin uncrossed his arms and nodded. "It's fine."

Annie smiled. "Okay, then." She glanced around the room. "I had to face the mirror and learn to accept what I saw. The parts I was born with bring me pleasure. They're not boy parts, they're girl parts because they're my parts and I'm a girl. Denying myself pleasure was not living fully, in my opinion. I'm not saying we all have to accept the body we were given, but for me, I've learned to accept and love it as it is. There's absolutely nothing wrong with transitioning fully, but I made the decision not to go that route because it's painful, costly, and sexual function after isn't a guarantee." She paused as several members murmured their agreement. "It wasn't right for me, but if it's right for you, then do it. We will be here to support you one-hundred-and-fifty percent. If you need me, I will be there in your hospital room after you're rolled out after your surgery, holding your hand, and making sure you're not alone."

Joaquin stared down at his hands. Bottom surgery had always been something he wanted, but like Annie said, the cost, the pain, and the function after had weighed heavily on his mind. They did okay money-wise, but the surgery was hundreds of thousands of dollars, and he wouldn't put them into crippling financial debt because he couldn't come to terms with his body.

"There is the magical path," Qhuinn said. "If you can find a witch willing and powerful enough. Not that we have one here."

Several of the hedges scowled at Qhuinn who only sat back and chuckled.

"Magic comes at a price," Annie replied. "I'm not sure I'm willing to pay that price."

Joaquin sat up straighter. "What was the price?"

"I didn't bother asking," Annie replied. "Especially after that's what caused Lenny's cancer."

"Supposedly,"Qhuinn quipped.

"Qhuinn,"Annie murmured.

"Fine, fine… but I have my doubts there. Lenny was a good guy. Magic wouldn't have done that to him," Qhuinn replied.

"If surgery—or magic—isn't for you," Annie murmured softly. "There is a path toward body acceptance if you open your mind to it. If any of you want to talk more about it, privately or here, I'm always willing to listen or offer suggestions." Annie breathed deep and let out a long, slow sigh. "Well, that was mildly terrifying, but I feel a lot better after sharing."

The group clapped, cheering Annie on. She smiled, her cheeks growing rosy. "If anyone else wants to discuss their own issues with dysmorphia, please do."

"I think my biggest issue was the fact I couldn't handle T very well," Qhuinn said. "My doctor put me on the cream instead, which was better health wise, but it took so much longer to see the changes in the mirror. I struggled for a long time because of that. My partner started taking a picture of me every single morning. They pushed and prodded, and I didn't think there was any reason. I saw no change. But when they had about five or so months of pictures, they put them together into a time-lapse video and I finally saw that there had been changes. They'd been so minor, so slow, that I couldn't see it. Thanks to them, they showed me how wrong I was, and it made a huge difference in my life." He smiled. "I was deep in a hole and that video helped lift me out of it. Over time, the dysmorphia has improved. I'm not going to say it's gone. I still have moments where I don't feel man enough, but they're fewer and fewer as time goes on."

Joaquin listened to a few more tales, so many of them mirroring his own transition. It gave him hope he might one day overcome his own dysmorphia.

"What about you, Joaquin? Do you want to share anything?"

Joaquin eyed the circle of eager faces, but he wasn't ready to share his story with a bunch of strangers. "I had some struggles, but yeah, I'm good."

"Of course he is," Qhuinn said. "You pass. Like completely pass. If I saw you walking down the street, I'd assume you were a cis male."

"That doesn't mean anything," Joaquin snapped. "Passing doesn't equal acceptance."

"It would for me," another transman grumbled.

"And that's your journey," Annie said. "Joaquin is on his own path. We don't judge here. We experience enough of that outside those doors." She turned to grin at Joaquin, pausing, as if to give him space—space he wasn't ready to fill. She nodded, realizing he was done. "I think that's about enough for tonight. Enjoy some of the refreshments on the back table and feel free to stick around and socialize for a bit before you leave."

Joaquin was on his feet in an instant, snatching his jacket before stalking toward the door.

"Joaquin?" Annie called out, stopping him a second time.

He turned to face her. She stalked closer, and he finally got close enough to scent her. A lion shifter. Truly one of his own.

"I can see you're struggling. If you ever need to talk, know that I'm always here." She offered him a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

He eyed the paper a moment, hesitant, but finally reached out and took it, sliding it into his back pocket. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Annie murmured. "I hope we see you around again. We'd love to have you here."

"Maybe."

Annie smiled and turned away. Before he could leave, Qhuinn sidled up.

"Nice to meet another trans cat man." He offered a hand. "Qhuinn."

"Joaquin," he repeated, as if they hadn't known one another's names.

"You're new around here? I haven't seen you before."

"Just moved to Boston. It's my first time in Salem tonight."

"Cool, cool," Qhuinn said. "I could always show you around?"

"Maybe another time. My mate's waiting for me next door, and we're going to grab some grub before we head home."

"Ahh," Qhuinn murmured. "Mated. I see. Well, if you ever need help learning the lay of the land, I've lived in Salem my whole life. I know all the secrets."

"Good to know."

Qhuinn handed his phone over. "Digits?"

Joaquin sighed inwardly. He was an introvert and didn't like people… yet, there was something honest and forthright about Qhuinn. He snagged the phone and entered his number before passing it back.

Qhuinn grinned and hit a few buttons. Joaquin's phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Now you've got mine, too." Qhuinn smiled. "I won't hold you from dinner with your mate."

"Thanks," Joaquin replied, turning toward the door before anyone else could stop him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Qhuinn?"

Qhuinn turned.

"Are there any Mexican restaurants around Salem? I'm missing a taste of home."

He chuckled. "Corner of Washington and Essex Street, a few blocks down. Huge building. There's a restaurant on the end. You'll get whatever you're craving there."

"Awesome. Thanks."

Qhuinn nodded. "No problem."

Joaquin raced to find Esau, needing the calm his human provided. Donning his jacket, he stepped out into the night, searching around for any dangers. When he didn't catch any threatening vibes, he shoved his hands into his jacket and stalked down the street. A few steps down, he came to standstill. A crosswalk. Painted in the trans colors. They'd already encountered a Pride crosswalk, with its bright rainbow hues farther up the street. "I think I'm liking this city more and more," he murmured to himself.

As soon as he entered the coffee shop, Esau rose from the table. Joaquin prowled closer and dragged his mate into his arms, hugging him tight.

"Good meeting?" Esau asked.

Joaquin wasn't completely sure it was good. He felt off-balance, but holding Esau helped right his world a bit. He pulled back. "There's a Mexican place down the street someone recommended."

"That's all you have to say about the meeting?"

Joaquin shrugged. "I can tell you more outside on the way."

Esau nodded. He grabbed his to-go cup and nodded toward the door. "Let's go then."

Once outside, Joaquin slipped his hand into Esau's free one. He glanced around to ensure there was no one close enough to overhear what he was about to say. "The whole place was full of shifters and witches. I think there were a couple of human mates, too, but the scents were all mixed and hard to pinpoint unless I was closer."

"That's great," Esau said excitedly. "Did you talk to any of the witches? Ask if there's anyone who might be able to help with the demons on our doorstep?"

"No," Joaquin muttered, realizing he should've stuck around for that. It had been his true purpose there. But after the discussion, he'd felt raw and needed out. "It wasn't easy sitting in there. I had to go. There's always next month."

"You'll go back?" Esau asked, grinning.

"To find a witch to help us, sure." Joaquin remembered the phone number in his back pocket. "Though the leader of the group shared her number with me and said I could call if I ever wanted to talk. I could call and see if she can direct me to a respectable coven."

Esau stiffened. "She gave you her number?"

"It wasn't like that."

"I didn't say it was," Esau said, but Joaquin could see his mate was struggling a bit.

"Actually, I got two. Both were just being friendly and helpful."

"Of course they were friendly," Esau muttered. "Look at you."

"Are you jealous?" he asked with a grin.

"No. Of course not."

Joaquin chuckled.

"I'm not!"

"Okay."

Esau sighed. "Honestly, I'm not. If anything, I just hate that I can't be that person for you."

Joaquin stopped and dragged Esau to a stop. He spun his mate to stare at him. "You are my everything."

Esau smiled.

"This one little piece… you haven't experienced. But I could say the same for you. I didn't grow up around a witch grandmother, for instance. I don't have a lot of knowledge of magic and you do."

"Knowing magic is a whole lot different than being trans."

"Sure, but my point is, that if you met a witch, you'd have more in common with them than I would. Same with a trans person and me." He leaned in closer and captured Esau's lips in a quick kiss. He opened his mouth to continue, but paused, a scent hitting his nose. Mexican food. Like real, authentic Mexican food. "Fuck that smells good. Do you smell that?"

He also felt the pulsing power he'd sensed earlier than night. The two appeared close to one another. He was being drawn into it… but the hell if he could ignore the scent of good food, especially as much as he was missing home.

"Smells like your birria," Esau murmured.

They whipped around the corner, and Joaquin noticed a large sign that read Bewitched Bites. He glanced around, noticing the whole block pulsed with power—not just the restaurant. There were several businesses. A bookshop. A florist. A tattoo place. There were some more businesses on the other side. He looked at Bewitched Bites again, confused. Outside, it looked like a French bistro, which couldn't be where the scent was coming from, could it?

"This can't be it," Joaquin said, searching around. Across the street, a statue of a woman sitting on a moon was erected. Behind the statue were other restaurants farther down. None appeared to be Mexican, though.

A patron walked out of Bewitched Bites and Joaquin heard salsa music pouring out from the opening, and the scents of home wafted his way, stronger than before. He turned to eye the fa?ade, confused. "I guess it is it."

"Certainly smelled like it," Esau said.

Joaquin placed his hand on Esau's lower back and led his mate inside. Once they entered, Joaquin saw the outside didn't match the inside. Within, it looked like the typical Mexican joints he'd eaten at his entire life.

"Come in, come in," an older white man called as he neared the front. "Table for two?"

A white dude? No way.But he couldn't ignore the scent.

"If your food tastes as good as it smells, you'd better give us a big table," Joaquin murmured.

"Oh, I promise you it'll taste better than it smells."

Joaquin scoffed, doubtful especially considering he didn't see a single brown face in the joint. There wasn't a single patron inside at all, except for them, which didn't bode well, either. But Qhuinn had suggested it, and the smell was divine, so he'd give it one shot. And one shot only. "Lead the way, Se?or."

The man smiled, grabbed two menus, and led them through the many empty tables, seating them in a booth near the front windows. He and Esau slid in across from one another and took the offered menus.

"Are you guys new here?"

"Been here for decades," the man answered.

Joaquin glanced about, unsure how the place could've stayed in business for decades with no customers. "Maybe you should change the exterior to match what's inside. I didn't know it was a Mexican place until someone walked out, and I was close enough to hear the music."

"Well, we're not a Mexican restaurant."

Joaquin frowned.

"As the name implies, we're bewitched. The restaurant changes to accommodate whoever's entering. You wanted Mexican, so it's Mexican. If you'd wanted pizza, you would've walked into a pizzeria." He grinned. "And we're jammed full in here at the moment. You just happen to be the only ones who want Mexican food right now. We're well known for our deli sandwiches and our bakery-cafe, so most are in those two right now."

"How'sthat possible?" Esau asked, eyes wide.

"Magic," Joaquin replied.

"Exactly," the man said. "I'll let you guys look over the menu and be right back with your two Modelos."

Modelo was Joaquin's favorite brand, especially when eating good Mexican food. "We didn't order drinks."

"No, but it's what you want, right?"

Joaquin nodded. As soon as she was out of earshot, he turned to Esau. "This place is weird as fuck."

"Is that good-weird or bad-weird? Should we leave?"

Joaquin shook his head. "I don't sense danger. No hackles up." In fact he got a sense of rightness in the place, like they were supposed to be there that very moment. Perhaps it was the magic. He wasn't sure. "We can chill, but don't let your guard down completely."

"Okay," Esau murmured. "Maybe we can make some quiet inquiries to find a witch to help us?"

"Maybe."

Esau glanced down at the menu. "Fuck, Keeno. They have birria tamales." He read some more. "And Hot Cheeto birria tamales? Hell, there's about ten different kinds of those alone. I might never want to leave here."

Joaquin snickered, reading a list of his favorites, but saw no tamales. "I don't see any. Where did you find them?"

Esau leaned over the table to look at his menu. "Yours is different than mine." He handed Joaquin the menu. "Here, trade with me."

Joaquin took the menu and looked again, but he saw the same exact items.

"The tamales are right here, Keeno."

"This menu doesn't have tamales," Joaquin said.

"How—" Esau shut his mouth. "Magic."

"Tamales aren't my thing," Joaquin said. "I mean, I like ‘em." He glanced at the menu again. "But this is a list of my absolute favorites here. Not just Americanized Mexican, but the real fucking deal."

"Tamales are not Americanized Mexican, and I resent you calling them that," Esau said with a grin.

"I wasn't talking about them, but other foods you sometimes find on the menu. This is wild, man." Joaquin lifted his head as the proprietor returned with their Modelos. "I never expected some of these things I'm reading."

"All of your favorites in one convenient spot," the man said, lowering the bottles and two frosted glasses to the table. "Ready to order?"

"One of everything?" Esau asked.

"Be careful what you wish for," the man said. "Because we can make that happen." He eyed Esau. "How about a plate with the top three tamales on that list, along with some beans and rice?"

"Sold," Esau said, handing the menu back.

Joaquin handed his menu back, too. "Since you seem to know what we want better than we do, how about you bring me what I'd like best?"

"Challenge accepted," the man said. He stepped back a second, scanning Joaquin. He paused, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head to the side, giving a weird look. Joaquin sensed the witch was peeking at more than just what he wanted for dinner. He smiled. "Yeah, I know what you need. Your order's coming up."

Joaquin watched the man retreat, that odd look stuck in his craw. He wasn't sure what it had signified and sent him to high alert. Witches could be crafty, and he'd best remember that, good food or no.

"I'm salivating for those tamales," Esau said, lifting the Modelo to his lips. "I just hope we're not getting our hopes up."

"Mmhmm,"Joaquin murmured, his gaze still on the witch.

"What is it?" Esau said. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know," Joaquin said, dragging his gaze away to look at his mate. "When he stared me down, I sensed something. Like he was digging."

"Should we go?"

"Not yet," Joaquin said. "It might've been nothing. But if there's another weird sign, I think we need to go."

When Joaquin lifted his gaze, the witch was already returning, arms laden with dishes. Another employee walked behind with another tray holding several small bowls and a larger steaming one.

"Thatwas fast," Esau said.

"Magic," the man replied, beaming. He set a large plate of tamales in front of Esau, as well as another loaded with rice and beans before placing Joaquin's down. "I brought you a sampler plate so you can taste several things. Carnitas, enchiladas, a tamale, Zarandeado…" He paused, waving the employee over. He grabbed the bowl and lowered it. "A bowl of pozole, just like your mama made."

Joaquin's eyes widened at the spread, his mouth watering.

The witch added a few small bowls to the table. "Fresh guacamole, a bit of mole, and some salsa tomatillo." The man stood back and smiled. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Esau said.

"Yes, thank you." Joaquin barely looked at the witch, his stomach ready for rapture. He wasn't sure where to start. He grabbed a spoon and tasted the pozole first. The second it hit his tongue, he closed his eyes, memories assailing him. "My gods, this is like my mami used to make."

A wave of remembrance hit him, as if she was standing right there. For a second, he could scent her—the sweet-smelling soap she'd always used. Tears burned the backs of his eyes. Once again, he was six years old, sitting at his family's dinner table, surrounded by family.

The sensation faded, and he was once more back with Esau in the restaurant. He smiled down at his plate, thankful for the gift he'd just been given.

Esau took a bite from the first tamale and leaned back, moaning. "I… am… in heaven."

A blank look crossed Esau's face… a faraway glimmer in his eyes. He shook his head, eyes filling with tears before he chuckled to himself. "That's… wild." He wiped at his eyes and grinned. "Dinner with a show."

Joaquin grinned before they both dug in again, eating like ravenous wolves.