Witch (Supernatural #2)

21: Let's Talk About It

Girl talk, noun.

1. Deep conversation between members of the female sex. Contrary to popular belief, it is not always about boys.

***

I drove around St. Faith for a while, taking random turns at lights until I found myself sitting at another red light, undecided as to where I was heading. I could drive around for another while, though I would have to avoid downtown where the clubs were. Clubbers were crossing streets left and right, not looking to see if there wasn't a confused witch who might run them over.

What I would do next was obvious. I didn't have much choice. If I wanted to talk to a girl, and about supernatural things, my options were pretty limited. In fact, I only knew one person who fit into both categories. And I had no idea where to find her.

Obviously, I needed to socialize more.

After a moment of consideration, I decided that Tate was my best option. I knew where he lived; he would be able to give me her number, and maybe directions to her house. I could only hope she wasn't out with friends or having a date night with Tate. That would be awkward, and it wouldn't help me in my personal situation.

Ten minutes later, I knocked on the door of the hellhounds' apartment, hoping someone was home and that someone could help me out. It was a Saturday night though; they could be out clubbing, or to the movies, or witch hunters hunting. Who knew what hellhounds did in their spare time. Then the door opened and Tate grinned at me like he had known I was on the other side. Heightened smell? Probably.

"Isla, what a surprise. I figured you'd be celebrating right about now." He invited me in, closing the door behind me. "So, what can I do for you? I'm guessing you aren't here to catch up?"

"Well, I actually need to talk to Sawyer, but I don't have her number and I figured you'd have it," I mumbled.

He arched an eyebrow. "You drove all the way here just for that. Maybe I should give you my number to, that way, next time you don't have to leave the house."

I shook my head. "I was already out."

"Celebrating?" As he asked me that, he smirked.

Denying it, and thus answering truthfully, would mean he'd want to know why I'd been driving around then, which I didn't want to tell him. Could I tell him to mind his own business? I mean, as hellhound, yes, he was technically my superior. But as teenager, couldn't I just not tell him? Complicated. Agreeing with what he said would mean he clearly got the wrong impression.

Sawyer chose that exact wonderful moment to walk into the room, saving me from answering. "Isla? What are you doing here?" She came over curiously. As she did, I realized I was indeed interrupting their night together. She was wearing leggings, fluffy socks and what looked to be a shirt of Tate's. The kind of outfit you wear when staying in for the night.

"She's here for you."

The siren arched an eyebrow the way her boyfriend had a minute ago. "Really? How did you know how to find me here? I thought you weren't allowed to use magic at the moment."

"She didn't," Tate said before I could. "She was hoping to get your number from me. It just happened that you are already here."

"And why are you here?" Again, Tate was about to open his mouth but Sawyer shot him a look. "Will you let her talk? Why don't you go and sit on the couch?" While the redhead didn't seem thrilled, he did as told, like a well-trained dog he was supposedly able to turn into. When he was seated, Sawyer looked at me expectantly.