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 onpurpose. 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, suchactions 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.
