Me? "The shunning?" I said, flustered. "Okay. It's been nice not having to go to the ever-after every week. Kind of weird. The demons think I'm dead, and I want to keep it that way." I shook my arm to show off my charmed silver, adding, "I don't even mind that I can't do ley-line magic." But I did, if I was honest.
Marshal's eyes were outraged as he straightened from over the amulets. "The coven of moral and ethical standards is making you wear that?"
"This? No. I put this on myself. You think I liked going to the ever-after every weekend?" Al would friggin' kill me if he knew I was alive. If the demon hated one thing, it was being broke.
Marshal's eyes became worried, and he looked back at the amulets. He invoked two more, and I started putting them in my shoulder bag, one by one.
"Thanks again," I said, not liking the silence. If Marshal was silent, Marshal was thinking, and that made me uneasy. "I can still do earth magic. The higher spells can tell the difference in my blood and don't invoke, is all."
He looked up as he finished the last, his expression brightening with understanding. "Oh! That's why the ones you made last year . . ."
I nodded. "Yes. I thought I'd done them wrong . . . but it's my blood."
Marshal knew I wasn't a witch - he was there the week I figured it out for myself - but I could tell by his suddenly sick expression that he hadn't really believed it. He thought that I'd taken a label to get the coven to back off. "Then you really are . . ."
His words faltered, and I slumped, tired beyond belief. "I'm a demon," I said, looking away. A demon with no demon magic. "Well, thanks," I said as understanding, and even worse, pity, cascaded over him. "I don't know any other witches I could have asked to do this. Isn't that stupid?" I tried to laugh, but it came out wrong, and the silence afterward was worse.
The amulets were invoked, and still he stood there, four feet and an entire chasm of unspoken thought between us. "No," he said softly, and I looked up, seeing his pity, his fear, and his reluctance all wrapped up in one terrible expression. "Rachel, I'm sorry this happened. And I'm glad you got your shunning removed. I didn't like the way things ended."
"Me neither," I said, backing slowly away. My stomach hurt. This was such a bad idea. I couldn't go back - this proved it - but what hurt wasn't Marshal as much as it was me grieving, letting go of the hope that I could be the person I'd always thought I was. It was going to be harder now that I couldn't pretend.
"That's why I came over today," he said, but I didn't know if I believed him. "Not because I wanted to start dating again or anything. I just wanted to see that you were really okay and not just surviving."
I leaned against the sink, wishing he would go away. I hadn't invited him over here to see if he was available, but now I felt even more alone. "I'm doing okay," I said, wishing I could say it louder.
"You're doing great!" he said, but it sounded flat. I jumped when he touched my elbow, and his hand fell away. "You're doing great," he said again, softer this time. "I'm glad that no one is telling me I can't talk to you anymore, because you are a very special woman."
My gut hurt, and I made a fist, jamming it into my side. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself." I was not going to cry, damn it.
"You deserve good things," Marshal said, but he was still wearing that damn pitying smile. "There's someone out there for you. I really believe that."
"Me, too," I lied, then swallowed the pain down where it could fester. "I'm glad you're doing okay, too. And thanks again. For the amulets." I was never going to call him again.
Marshal reached out and I shook my head, unable to look at him. The soft slap of his hand meeting his leg was loud. "Bye, Rachel," he said, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't cry when he leaned in and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek.
"Bye, Marshal," I said, my voice surprisingly firm, though my chest felt like it was caving in. It wasn't Marshal, it was everything else.
"I'll let myself out."
"Thank you," I said softly, and I looked up as he walked away. I took a deep breath, gazing at the ceiling as I shook my hair out. It was almost dry. I wasn't looking for someone to complete me, but having someone to do stuff with would be nice. And I didn't think I could even have that anymore.
"I have to get out of here," I said softly, feeling the walls close in on me. If I didn't do something, I'd explode in a puff of self-absorbed pity. But not with Wayde watching me. Yes, he was right that I was vulnerable without my ley-line magic. Yes, Trent was right that I was putting those I cared about at risk by not accepting my full abilities. But I was not helpless. I had survived an I.S. death threat, banshees, Weres with guns, and political witches - all without demon magic. It would've been an entirely different story last night if I had been prepared and had had my splat gun. Perhaps Wayde needed to know that.
I heard the front door shut, then stuffed the last of the amulets into my bag, sliding them next to my restocked splat gun. I was so out of here. Wayde still had my keys after driving me home last night, but I could take the bus to the FIB. He kept telling me he could keep me safe, but he wasn't taking this seriously if someone he'd never met had come into the church and left without Wayde checking him out. The Were needed a wake-up call, and I was frustrated enough to give it to him.
"Ivy?" I called out, knowing she had probably been listening to the entire conversation. "I'm going to take the bus to the FIB. I've got my splat gun and phone."
There was a hesitation, then through the walls came, "What about Wayde?"
"I think he's still sleeping," I said loudly, knowing he couldn't hear us, and not caring if he did. I'd been afraid to hurt him last night. The stakes hadn't been high enough, and I'd been showing restraint, not cowardice. Today it would be a different story.
Again the hesitation, followed by "Call me when you get there!"
I felt a surge of gratitude. Ivy knew I wasn't helpless. Feeling better, I grabbed my jacket, shuffling into it while slinging my bag over my shoulder. Phone in my pocket, I strode through the back living room to the porch door. I'd spent almost an entire year taking public transportation, and I knew the schedule. If I hurried, I could catch the next bus into Cincy - easy.
Catch me if you can, big boy, I thought as I scuffed my garden shoes on and opened the back door. I owed him a little grief for last night if nothing else.