He stalks from the room, his shadows trailing him. As soon as I finish this, I'm going to ask him to take me back. Rip off the Band-Aid and all that. No use hanging around when he's so conflicted over my presence. I should tell him I want to stay, though.
I scrunch my nose over and over as the itch intensifies. With my fingers full of dough, I resort to using my sleeve, but it doesn't help. I end up shaking my hands and my head, desperately trying to get it to stop.
Omen’s cat curls his way around my legs, and I glance down. “You got claws, Handsome? Because I could definitely use them right now.”
I glance up and to the right. I think I heard it's supposed to stop the itching. Or maybe that's sneezing. Doesn't matter, since it doesn't work.
The cat hisses, then flounces away. “Omen would have helped me, ungrateful little brat.”
I tip my head back and close my eyes. I probably look ridiculous, wiggling my entire face.
“What's wrong?” Omen says from directly behind me.
“My nose itches,” I whine.
He chuckles and presses his chest into my back. Sweet relief hits me as he scratches my nose. It's not until I open my eyes, I realize he's using his shadows. A shiver runs through my body, though whether it's from his closeness or the reprieve, I don’t know. He drops his hand to my hip and slips the other around my waist. I rest my head on his chest, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
“What are we going to do?” I whisper.
He sighs and holds me closer. “I can't guarantee time will be on our side. If I keep going back and forth, it might be longer. We could go years without seeing each other. You don't deserve to have your existence put on hold waiting around for me.”
“Except my only other option is Brandon.”
He tenses, a rumble rattling in his chest. “Don't say his name.”
“What happens to witches who stay in Hell? Do they die? Am I technically dead right now?”
“Clara, you're not a ghost or dead. It's just another dimension. Yes, some souls come down here when they die, but witches go to another dimension usually. You're just…here.”
We need to keep having this conversation, but I don't want to do it with my hands full of dough. “I need you to move.”
He drops his hold on me and steps away. I glance over my shoulder at him, then scan the area.
“Uh, where's the sink? I need to wash my hands. And I'll need cling wrap or a towel for this.”
He snaps his fingers and a sink appears. Another snap and a towel flutters in front of me and settles on the bowl. There are so many things I don't understand when it comes to Omen and Hell. I just went along with whatever was happening. I trusted karma or fate or the forces of the dimensions to guide me. Now, it feels like I'm making a series of missteps. Too scared to tell him what I want. Too annoyed to call him on his bullshit. Too tired to question anything.
As the warm water rushes over my hands, I attempt to imagine my life with him—and without him. Do I take the leap and hope he wants to stay with me? Do I cut my losses and live a life of solitude? Or do I spend the rest of my time waiting for him to show up?
My spine snaps straight and I spin around. “I don't think we should keep going like we are.”
He nods, avoiding my gaze. I open my mouth to explain when he finally lifts his head. Sorrow rests in the blackness, and a familiar ache takes up residence in my heart.
“It's been a pleasure, little witch.”
He snaps his fingers and the world goes dark.
Raw anguish rips through me, rendering me useless. My shadows abandon me and leave another hole in my soul next to the gaping one Clara left behind. I gasp for air, yet my lungs refuse to work.
It's an apt punishment for what I've done. Karma was kind enough to remind me when they dropped by. Dimitri wasn't much better. He raged at me for sending her back without a proper conversation. He wasn't there, though.
He didn't see the fear and regret swimming in her eyes. She didn't want to stay in Hell. She didn't want to stay with me. Offering her the option at that point would only make things awkward.
If she wanted to still see me, she would have summoned me. Yet the familiar tug has been absent these last six weeks. I don't blame her. We've had a tumultuous relationship. I wasn't very welcoming at first. She was kind, and I repaid that kindness withsarcasm and insults. Once I let her in, things may have gotten better. It wasn't enough.
Once I catch my breath, I stare at the dark ceiling. Ever-present dark clouds swirl above me. My entire place has been overrun with shadows and darkness. I'm sure it's merely picking up on my own emotions. Doesn't mean it isn't annoying. They aren't very good company. Not like my own shadows, which have abandoned me since Clara left. Since I sent her home.
“Get up,” Dimitri barks from the doorway and I roll my head around. “Ludovic wants to see you.”
