“Ooh, you. Just when I was fine. Just when I didn't wake up in the middle of the night. Just when I stopped hearing that damn feline.” She huffs, then kicks a stick at me. At least, I think she's trying to. The small branch doesn't even make it six inches. “No note. No cosmic sign. Just a whole helluva lot of silence.” She jabs her finger at me. “Who in the hell gave you the right?”
I sober when I spot the sheen in her eyes. A single tear tips from her lid and trickles down her cheek. My fingers tingle and I resist the urge to grab her. Whether to shake the answers out of her or comfort her, I don't know.
“How long?” I rasp out.
“What?” she snaps as another tear falls.
“How long was I gone?”
Her lips purse and she pulls in a deep breath as if bracing herself for my naivety. “Six months.”
“All this for a week?” I growl, prowling toward her.
“A week? No, asshole. Six. Months. As in twenty-six weeks. As in, one hundred and eighty-two days.”
“Months.”
My vision blurs and my stomach flips. I don't know how long I was between dimensions. Or how long it took me to get back to myself when I transported Dimitri and myself to his room. Magic gets wonky in Hell, twisting and warping at a whim. It has something to do with the balance, but I never bothered to find out. I wasn't assigned to the magical department for a reason.
“What happened?” she asks flatly.
I squeeze my eyes shut and flex my hands over and over in an attempt to center myself. “I followed Dimitri back to Hell. We had…words. Then I came back here.”
“How long was it there?”
I shrug, not knowing how to explain time in a space that has none. I shouldn't have come here. Six months for humans is a long time. For demons, it's nothing. Even for a witch, six months is long enough for her to forget. She's moved on with her life and then I blast back in without a care in the world. All the reasons I was going to cut things off come rushing back to me.
I clear my throat as I stare at nothing. “I'm sorry.”
There's nothing really more to say. I could give her excuses or convince her of…what? That we're connected in some magical way? No, she deserves more than whatever half-life I can offer. She'd be waiting around more than six months while I lost track of time in Hell. There's no path forward that allows her to be herown person. Besides, I don't need a witch in my life. The thought rings hollow and a hole opens in my chest.
I step to the side, intending to walk to the edge of her property before vanishing. She doesn't stop me. She's not even looking at me. I wonder if she even notices or if she's simply ignoring me. I don't blame her. I slide around her and make my way to the road.
Glancing over my shoulder, I clear my throat. “Might want to clean up the circle.”
She lets out a frustrated groan, and I face forward. Should have kept my damn mouth shut. I wrap my shadows around me, trying to find comfort in them, when she shoves me from the back. I stumble, almost sprawling onto the dirt. She didn't hit me that hard, but I didn't expect her to smack me again.
“You don't get to walk away. You don't get to decide how this goes. I want to know why you left in the first place. I want to know why you freaked out when Dimitri showed up. I want to know why you stayed that night, then fucked off the next morning. You owe me that much.”
I spin slowly. “Owe you?” I stalk closer and her spine snaps straight. “Careful, little witch.”
“Or what?” she snarls, though there's a hesitancy to her words.
“I think you forgetyousummonedme. You drew the chalk and wrote my sigil. You asked for my help. And even when you didn't, I still saved you.”
She sputters, desperately trying to keep hold of her anger. “Saved me? Opening a jar of spaghetti sauce can hardly be constituted assavingsomeone. And sure, the washer might have been trying to eat me, but I would have figured it out. I always do.”
“Like you did with the desk? Or the vines? Or when you were dying?” For every step forward, she takes an equal one back until she ends up against the wall.
She huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I wasn't dying. I was on my period. And I was perfectly fine the next day.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“Well, it certainly wasn't the melted ice cream I had to clean up from my floor. Or the dishes I had to do after making you fries. Or the?—”
I hold up my hand, then rest my palms on either side of her head, boxing her in. “Are you done?”
Her chin tips up and she stares at me. “And if I'm not?”
