I’m pretty sure my brain breaks at that. Forget the demon showing up in my closet. Or my sister disappearing from this plane. Different dimensions and humans being poked like fruit…or vegetables. I can never remember which a tomato is. Either way, it doesn’t matter. What’s truly stopped me in my tracks is paperwork.
“I…paperwork? There’s paperwork in Hell?”
“Way too much, honestly. I swear that’s half the reason Omen keeps disappearing. He says it’s because Clara keeps summoning him, but he sticks around for way too long. Pretty sure it’s to avoid the paperwork Ludo keeps giving him.”
“You have a lot of paperwork waiting for you then?”
“I’ve been helping at the gauntlet. Until I got cursed, that is. So, yeah, I’ve got a bit waiting for me.”
I could point out he missed my point, but it’s not worth it. Explaining a joke instantly makes it not funny. I don’t even know if it was a joke in the first place. Maybe I just wanted him to tell me he stayed because of me instead of avoiding something else. Which is ridiculous. Logically, I know that. Doesn’t make the rejection hurt less.
I press my lips together and glance away. “I’m going to make coffee. I have some books around here. I’ll see what I can find.”
He opens his mouth like he’ll protest. Turning and walking away is easier. Cowardly, yet easier. Telling him whether to stay or go isn’t my call. He doesn’t have to stick around for me to research. It’s not until I’m in the kitchen I realize he never answered my question about Percy. Maybe he thinks she’s human.
“Doesn’t make sense why she’d have spellbooks,” I mutter as I go through the motions of making coffee. “Fuck, I could use a donut.”
After a good night’s sleep, my headache is completely gone. Now I’m in that post-migraine stage where my thoughts don’tquite sit right in my brain. Like the pain from before drowns them, and now they’re a bit waterlogged until they dry out. It’s a strange feeling where time doesn’t line up with reality.
“This isn’t going to work,” he mutters from behind me, and I tense.
“Well, you’re free to leave, then.” I plan on saying more, except my throat closes and my eyes burn.
Ridiculous, Mari. Get your shit together. He doesn’t have to be here. You don’t want him here. It’s been a fucking week, not years. You’re not even dating.
My little pep talk does nothing. It’s as if logic has no place in my life anymore. Actually, it probably fled when my sister disappeared, I moved into her house and assumed her life. I swear I hear her whispers in the dead of night, urging me onward.
I shake my head and inhale deeply. He hasn’t left. His presence fills the room without even trying. Maybe it’s a demon thing. Lark seemed to exude the type of energy he does. Could be she was part demon which is a ridiculous notion. My heart clenches, adding to the moroseness I’ve fallen into. With her gone, I’m left adrift. My one goal is to find her. If she left on purpose and hates that I found her…well, I’ll deal with that when I find her.
“Mari…” he sighs.
“It’s fine. If you can stay in Hell, you’ll probably get better. And I’m sure I can find a book to help me find what I’m looking for.”
His silence says it all—he agrees. I don’t know a lot about curses, but I do know recharging your magic helps. Demons probably aren’t much different from witches in that regard.
“What is it you’re looking for, spitfire?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear.
A shudder runs through me. His fingertips brush my leg, right beneath the hem of my shirt. Fire ripples from the spot, heating me from the inside out. One touch shouldn’t do such things. My body sways, whether toward him or away, I’m not sure.
And then he’s gone. His touch. His breath. His presence.
I glance over my shoulder to confirm what I already know. I’m greeted with an empty kitchen. Bitterness tinged with disappointment washes over me. The coffee machine beeps. I don’t have the stomach for it anymore, yet I pour some into a mug. Reluctantly, I slide the second cup back into the cupboard. If this was my house, I’d get rid of them all. I’d have one of everything, maybe two so I wouldn’t have to do dishes every night. If only there were a spell to do all the chores. Maybe there is and I just haven’t found it yet.
Sighing, I leave my steaming cup on the counter and go to search the closet. I haven’t felt well enough to dig through it all. There has to be something that’ll point me in the right direction. If Lark left anything, she’d hide it away. Somewhere only I could find. I have no idea where, though.
We used to do all the normal sisterly things when we shared a room. Hidden messages on the mirrors that only showed when they fogged up. Coded notes stuffed in random places like the inside of the toilet roll. Crystals arranged in a specific order only we understood. We even learned Morse code one summer so Aunt Star couldn’t eavesdrop as she was wont to do. We were closer than typical siblings—united under the banner of trauma.
I doubt I’ll find a set of instructions laid out perfectly for me taped behind the faux-fur coats. Still, I end up tossing them behind me. Before I know it, the living room looks like a tiny tornado took up residence. Only the pertinent items lie on the table I use to read cards for unsuspecting patrons. It takes me another ten minutes to clear everything off.
“Won’t be needing this anytime soon,” I mutter as I move the fake crystal ball.
Spreading out the contents, I stare at the mishmash of witchy paraphernalia. At first glance, I doubt any of this was used recently. Lark always did have a problem with throwing anything away. Nice box? Have to keep it, just in case she moved. Journal with three pages of notes? Better save it for when the mood strikes again. Faux-fur coats a friend off-loaded? Might move to a colder climate someday and will definitely need them.
Despite the ridiculousness of it all, I’m not about to get rid of anything. Not only are these Lark’s possessions, but she might come back for them someday. If I clean out her house, she’ll throw a godsdamn fit. We’ll fight, she’ll give me the silent treatment, and we’ll start this whole fucking thing over again.
Except it’s never been like this before. She’s never disappeared without a trace.
“Shut up,” I growl at the voice in my head that still sounds suspiciously like my sister’s.
