Ranth was sitting on the bed, reading.
“I thought I told you to stay in the hall?”
“You moved too far away.” He waved a hand at me but didn’t raise his eyes from the book.
My Book of Shadows.
This touching my stuff had to stop. “That’s private!” I lunged forward.
He stood up, holding the book above my head with one hand. I caged his wrist to pull it down, but it was like he was stone. The touch ignited, and a golden cloud sparkled behind my eyes.
He leaned forward, and swept an errant hair from my cheek, then tucked it behind my ear.
“Sorrel,” he said but his voice seemed far away.
“Sorrel!” he said again. This time it broke whatever spell I was under, and I let go of his wrist.
He handed the book to me, his chin raising. “I would appreciate it if you would stop talking to me like I’m a two-year-old.”
“Then stop acting like one.” But I was shaking. I carefully reset my bookmarks, then replaced my Book of Shadows on the table while focusing on my breathing. I had to hold it together. No one had ever affected me the way he did—a blend of magical energy and sexual desire. It was… unsettling.
My bed creaked as he settled on it again. “I was merely trying to figure out what you are.”
“And did you figure it out?” I tugged out my falling braid and rewove it.
“No, and that is perplexing. You’re some sort of wizard, but with no training.”
“I am not a wizard, and I do have training.” I bristled.
“Not proper training. These pages are an example of experimentation without focus or method. Initiated scribblings. Nothing that would help us with our immediate issues.”
“Thanks for the compliments,” I snapped. “Your suggestion that methodology teaching is better than free-learning is something that’s heavily debated. I believe free-learning is highly superior. But it sounds like you don’t have any experience with it. If you were more worldly educated, you’d know a Bookof Shadows is all about experimentation. It’s not supposed to be focused. That sort of formality is for a grimoire.”
He rubbed his chin. “And do you have one of those?”
“Of course.”
He smiled and stood up. “May I see it?”
“Maybe I can show you later.” That was if, and it was a bigif, I decided I could trust him. My grimoire was safe in the planar crevice that Mom and I had created in our oven.
“Do you not realize we are being hunted? There is no later for us.” He crossed his arms, baring his stomach.
“Since my client almost died and my garden is completely ruined by those pink demons, yeah, I think I get we’re being hunted.”
“And they will take you or end you.”
I picked up my messenger. “They can try. I’m pretty good at sending demons packing. Just not pesky wizards, apparently.”
“Are you always this prickly?” He adjusted the waistband of the camo pants, and his belly button became my world for far too many seconds.
I pursed my lips. “Says the vexing wizard with hands that he can’t keep in his pockets?”
Ranth shoved his hands into the pockets of the camo track pants, pulling them taut. My memory wasn’t faulty.
I gulped and sorted through my pouches, trying to think about anything other than that. If only he was a demon or spirit I could easily dispel.
We had mugwort, holy water tampons, jaggery, and maca root, in case I needed to engage. I reordered the pouches, but we were set for any wandering demons. We had everything.
