Chapter 6
Islam the door shut, then wrap my arm around Clara's waist. She doesn't fight me for once, just melts into my chest. I carry her back to her bedroom before I set her on her feet. Her shoulders slump when I step away. I can't trust myself to keep hold of her. And not for the usual reasons.
I don't know how her date went, but I can guess.
I also don't know why I passed out on her bed instead of going back to Hell.
Either way, I'm glad I'm still here. Clara would have ended up confronting him and who knows what that asshat would have done.
Why she doesn't have protection spells on her house is beyond me.
As far as I know, it's pretty common for witches.
“Stay here,” I growl, then stomp from the room. Of course she doesn't listen.
My shadows snap out and shove her back on the bed.
A string of curses falls from her lips and I smirk.
They won't keep her there, but I have little control over them right now what with the rage rolling through me.
My body still hasn't adjusted to time in this dimension.
If I don't settle in one place for a while, I'll end up stuck.
I don't know what would be worse, here or Hell.
At least in Hell, I wouldn't be tempted to bed anyone.
I know the exact moment my shadows snap back into my body. Seconds later, Clara's footsteps scamper after me. My wings unfurl, hoping to keep her at bay. I'd rather not have her interfere while I deal with Brandon. She'll try to step in and just get in the way.
I rip open the door to find Brandon collapsed on her front stoop. I glance over my shoulder. “Why don't you have a porch? Isn't that a witch thing?”
Her face does a weird thing. “A porch is not a witch thing. It's just…a thing people have?”
“All the witches I knew had porches,” I mutter, turning back to Brandon.
“Is that so? And how many other witches have you had the pleasure of meeting?”
The corner of my mouth tips up as I slowly face her. “Jealous, little witch? Don't worry, it's a good look on you.” My gaze drags down her body, then back to her eyes. “As is that dress.”
“Are you flirting with me, sir, or dealing with the poor excuse for a date on my front stoop?”
I cross my arms and tilt my head. “Who says I can't do both?”
She sputters again, a lovely pink blush splashing across her cheeks.
She presses her lips together and glares at me, then shoos me around.
My nostrils flare as I pick up her scent.
It's tinged with something I've never smelled before, though I can't place it.
Shaking my head, I force myself to turn away from her and address the real problem.
After I've dealt with the asshat, I'll go back to Hell and pretend I never started flirting with her.
“Well, Brandon, why are you still here?” I snap.
He pushes to his feet and throws his shoulders back. “Who are you? And why did you call her a witch?”
I step closer and he leans back, fear flashing in his watery eyes. “You come near her again and I'll drag you to Hell myself. Got it?”
I let the illusion I've masked my features with drop just enough for him to see my true form.
He stumbles away and trips over his feet.
I let out a chuckle as he spins, then sprints down the tree-lined lane.
I turn and kick the door shut. Good fucking riddance.
What the fuck was she thinking going on a date with a man like that?
I'm pretty sure he pissed himself before he ran.
“What'd you say to him? What'd you do?” She tugs one of the straps on her dress up, and I narrow my gaze.
“What's wrong with your dress?”
She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. I couldn't get the zipper down. Now answer the question.”
“I just told him to leave.”
She gives me a look. “He looked like he was about to shit his pants, which granted, he deserved, but still. What'd you do?”
I rub my jaw, wondering how much I should reveal.
I don't want her thinking she should summon me every time she has a shitty date.
At least, that's what I'm telling myself.
The alternative is she means more to me than she should.
I just need to get out of here. The sooner I get back to Hell, the better I'll feel.
My nap, if you could call it that, wasn't nearly long enough.
“I showed him what you see. To a human, I'm sure it's a bit disconcerting. Why don't you have protection spells?”
“I do. Which is why I was surprised when he could knock on my door. If he had ill intent, he wouldn't be able to get within five feet. I don't know what happened.”
“Perhaps he didn't have ill intent,” I murmur.
“I mean, he probably didn't think he was being an asshole.” She sighs and her eyes meet mine. “Will you help me get out of this dress?”
I grit my teeth and nod, not trusting my voice. She makes her way toward the bedroom and I follow, trying to keep my eyes off the small strip of skin she's managed to expose.
“What happened on your date?” I growl.
She waves her hand, dismissing my question. “Our…principles didn't align.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Well, I wanted to get to know him and he wanted someone to do his laundry.”
“Why would you want—never mind.” I shouldn't delve into her dating life or care whether she's seeing someone.
She gathers up her hair and lifts it off her neck as she presents her back to me.
I yank the zipper down, but the fabric bunches.
She shivers when my fingers touch her skin to hold the top, then tug on the zipper again.
I drop my hands as soon as she's free. I should leave now.
Except with the way her shoulders slump, I can't bring myself to.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask gruffly.
“No, I'm fine.” She shuffles into the bathroom and pushes the door shut.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. If she doesn't want to talk and I don't have anything else for me, then I should leave.
My heart kicks up, pounding in my chest. I brace my hands on my knees and my shadows billow around me.
I can't bring myself to go, especially without telling her first. The dark cloud dissipates and my pulse returns to normal.
Clara's cat streaks past me, his stubby legs working overtime.
He blasts through the bathroom door and Clara flings herself around.
If she wasn't half-naked, I'd laugh at the look on her surprised face.
Instead, I slap my hand over my eyes. Swallowing hard, I try to erase the image of her without a shirt on. It doesn't work.
“Kitty, you can't do that,” she scolds.
“Put on a shirt, little witch, or we're going to have more problems than the cat.”
“Sorry to distract you, demon. Didn't think a human body would be such a big deal,” she snaps.
“Only yours,” I mutter as she slams the door, then raise my voice and call, “Why did Brandon follow you home?”
“Well, I was about to ask him that, but you threatened him before I could,” she yells through the wood.
When she glides into the bedroom, my mouth waters.
Gone is the tight black dress, replaced with a green t-shirt.
I assume she has shorts on underneath, but all I can see are her shapely legs disappearing underneath the soft fabric.
Her soft hair frames her face, no longer confined to a clip and pins.
She's scrubbed the heavy makeup away, leaving pink spots on her cheeks.
She was gorgeous before, yet I prefer her like this. She's beautiful in an ethereal way. I swear she's glowing from within and I can't pull my eyes away from her. She smiles tentatively and glances down.
“Is there a stain on my shirt or something?”
I shake my head. “No. You look…fine.”
Disappointment flashes in her eyes and I kick myself. None of this makes sense. Not her emotions or my reactions. I'm too tired to fight what I'm feeling. At least not tonight.
“Are you okay?” Clara asks tilting her head.
“Why wouldn't I be?”
She shrugs, glancing away. “Because I thought you'd be gone by the time I got home. Did you…did you stay to make sure I got home safe?”
“No. I've been bouncing between dimensions so often I'm off kilter. I wasn't able to get back to Hell.”
I'm not about to admit I passed the fuck out on her bed. Then again, maybe I should. Otherwise, she'll think I did it on purpose. I open my mouth to confess when Handsome or Pretty Boy or whatever-the-hell his name is jumps at her. She snatches him up without hesitation.
“Look at you jumping so high,” she coos, then glances at me. “I'm sorry about…well you know. I didn't realize…it won't happen again.”
I have no idea what the fuck she's blathering on about.
She could be talking about the cat tripping me or her disastrous date.
Or summoning me in the first place. It may have only been a few days since she first called for me, but to her it's been weeks.
Weeks of me popping in when she needs me.
Weeks of her wondering if she should invite me into her space once more.
Weeks of her living her life as if I don't exist.
“Omen, how do you know?” she asks softly, and my head snaps up.
“Know what?” The question comes out sharper than I intend, and she flinches the slightest bit. Regret douses the rest of my shadows, and they wink out of existence.
“I just meant, like time. How do you know how much time has passed if you're in Hell or here?
Sorry, that didn't make sense. I mean, when you're here, how do you know how much time has passed in Hell?
Does that make sense? You know what, never mind.
It's not important. I'm just babbling now for no reason.”
“Because you're worried about being alone?”
She winces and shakes her head. “I'm not. I doubt Brandon will come back. You took care of that. Thank you, by the way.”
My spine straightens and I dig my nails into my palms. Clara thanks me too often.
And apologizes too much. Witches don't thank demons.
It's more than an expression of gratitude to them.
It's a form of blessing and sacred. We demons aren't afforded those types of benedictions.
If I remember right, such actions were punishable by…
not death. That can't be right. It's been so long, I doubt Clara has even heard about it.
“Do you think you'll be able to get back home?” she asks, her voice wavering. She clears her throat and raises an eyebrow. I don't know what transformation she's gone through in those few seconds, but she's closed off her emotions completely.
“Won't know until I try.”
I bow and my shadows whisk me away. I stumble as my feet slam into the marble floor of my bedroom.
“Why the fuck did I bow?” I mutter.
My vision wavers and I slam my eyes closed. I definitely shouldn't have traveled so soon. I wonder how much energy I expended by masking my true form in front of Brandon. Too much, clearly.
I collapse onto my bed, sending my clothes to another dimension. As exhausted as I am, I can't stop the images of Clara from marching their way through my head. One after another flashes in my mind, faster and faster until my eyes fly open and I struggle to breathe.
If I don't stop this soon, I'll be consumed from the inside out.
She'll destroy everything within me without ever realizing what she's done.
Because of course she wouldn't. She isn't lying in bed pining after what could be.
She's not going over every comment she's ever made to me.
She isn't watching a slideshow of memories of my time there.
I'm alone in this torture, and the only way to stop it is to cut ties.
I may not be able to stop her from summoning me, but I don't have to linger.
No more conversations or touching her unnecessarily.
I'll close myself off in every way I can.
Eventually, she'll fade from my mind and I'll forget all about my little witch.