A Requiem at the Witching Hour (The Girl Who Sang #2)

Chapter 1

The bright blue sky above, the crisp autumn air all around, and the pleasant company of her wife at her side helped her smile despite her rough morning. Amity could make even the worst afternoon tolerable. No, not— that sounds bad, Luz winced, She makes it all worthwhile. They strolled down the sidewalk toward her mothers' house while King trotted ahead of them sniffing and exploring the bushes along the sidewalk. She looked to her left and watched Amity sway slightly with each step as she walked, her hands clasped behind her back as she stared up at the trees across the street. Their leaves were a patchwork quilt of bright reds, brilliant oranges, and lingering summertime greens. The pale girl felt the weight of her gaze and turned to face her, smiling as she brushed a hand back through her wind-tousled auburn hair. Luz glanced down at her left hand, tucked as it was into her coat pocket to keep her arm still and steady, and frowned. She'd much rather be walking with Amity's fingers tangled up in her own; instead, she woke up this morning feeling like her limbs were filled with broken glass, and she needed her good hand for her cane.

Amity saw her expression fall and reached out to rub a hand down her back, then placed a gentle kiss on the edge of her shoulder. "There's next time, my love," she said gently, and Luz gave a sour nod in agreement. The brown-haired girl felt like she made them put things off far too often, even though her bad days were rare. The golden-eyed girl raised her hand to shade her eyes as she stared down the street, then she looked up at Luz, "When we get there, I want you to sit down for a bit, okay?"

Luz nodded and gave a soft sigh, "Not gonna get a fight from me, mi amor."

"What?" Amity gasped and caught her eye, her golden eyes sparkling, "Who are you?!" She threw the back of her hand against her forehead, pretending to despair, "What have you done with my Luz?"

The taller girl grinned, shaking her head with a snort, then dropped her voice into a low, gravelly drawl, "I dunno who yer talkin' about."

Amity laid both hands across her heart, playfully over-acting, "You horrible brute!" She smiled wide as Luz laughed, scowling as she repeated, brute? and Amity clasped her hands together at her chest, dancing sideways, facing the taller girl, "You must have taken her!"

"And yer next, sweetheart," Luz growled leaning toward Amity. The pale girl whispered, oh no, and grinned, leaning up for a quick kiss.

~

Luz put her hand on the railing and sighed as she looked up the staircase. Eda had jokingly asked if she should install an elevator, and Luz had scoffed at the thought of actually using it. Present Luz just shook an imaginary fist at Past Luz and her ego. Amity ran her fingers down the taller girl's sleeve and mounted the first step to turn and look her wife in the eye. "Would you like me to keep you company?" the pale girl asked as King pushed by to run up the staircase. She stepped to the side briefly as the border collie barreled past, his nails scrabbling at the wooden stairs, then looked back to Luz.

"Nah, it's okay," the brown-eyed girl said, waving her hand, "You go on up and say hi, I'll be there soon." She blinked as Amity reached out to run her thumb over her tanned cheek, and Luz leaned into the slender palm. "It's alright, mi amor."

Amity nodded, then smirked, pulling a voice, "As you wish." Luz laughed and waved as Amity turned and walked up the stairs. She stood there watching, watching, watching until the auburn-haired girl reached the balcony and waved back, then pushed the door open for herself and the dog.

Luz sighed and began making her way up the stairs, leading with her good leg, one step at a time. The delicious smells of sizzling meat and simmering spices reached her nose before she had made it halfway up the stairs, and the scents bloomed full and bright when she finally walked through the front door. She could see Amity standing at the counter beside her mamí, both women in aprons as her wife chopped vegetables and her mother seasoned cuts of meat before tossing them into a wide, deep iron pot on a low flame. She angled for the settee pushed against the wall to the right of the kitchen doorway and groaned as she eased herself down longways, pressing her aching limbs into the backrest as she leaned back on the cushioned arm of the couch. She dropped her cane on the floor, the unwanted implement still within reach. King trotted back into the living room and hopped up beside her, laying his head across her chest with a huff and a yawn. She patted his ears and whispered, "Hey, buddy."