Which means I need to return it. To Hell. If I run into Dimitri…I’ll deal with that when—if—the time comes.
I stand abruptly and Percy jolts away. “I’m going to take it back. Now.”
“Like, right now? Dude, you just got up. Maybe eat first?”
I shake my head and head for the bedroom. Real clothes will be needed. Especially if I plan on seeing people. As I tug on a pair of jeans, I spot the black spellbook. It’s filled with all sorts of charms, enchantments, and hexes, not to mention pathways into Hell. I won’t be needing those. In fact, I doubt I’ll need anything from this ancient tome anymore.
Glancing toward my door, I contemplate whether or not to tell Percy I’m going. Instead, I scribble a note and leave it at that. I end up sneaking down the hallway, then through the kitchen, and finally to Lark’s spell room. Percy’s nowhere to be found, thankfully. This time there aren’t any funny noises or strange lights. The candles wait for a spark, and the circle sits open, waiting for another victim.
A chill rolls down my spine as I hug the book to my chest. I don’t know what awaits me in Hell. Probably nothing. I’ll most likely be right back here in no time. Back to wallowing and wondering where the fuck Lark went off to. And where I went wrong with Dimitri.
“Get up.”
Omen’s voice rings through the dark room. I grunt in response only because the bastard won’t leave me alone if I don’t answer him.
He looms over my bed, the flame in his hand illuminating his face. “Enough moping. Time to go get your witch. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Different scenario. Different results.”
He shakes his head, then glances over his shoulder. Probably at Clara. I wouldn’t put it past him to invite her in to convince me to go after Mari. Not that either of them understands. I’ve barely told them anything about her. Karma probably ratted me out. Or Providence. They both seem to have their own issues to deal with, though.
“She your soulbound?” he snaps.
“Doesn’t matter.”
He huffs and I swear he rolls his eyes. “Of course it does.”
“No, it doesn’t. She asked to go home. I took her home. End of story.”
“Sounds exactly like what I went through.” He drops into a chair that wasn’t there a second before.
“It’s not. Go away.”
His nose wrinkles, and I flip on my side, facing away from him. I clutch a pillow to my chest, wishing it still held Mari’s scent. It faded long ago. Or maybe yesterday. I’ve lost track of time, to be honest.
“When was the last time you ate? Or bathed?” He mutters something about dirty-ass motherfuckers, but I stopped listening. At least I’m trying to. “Did you clarify whathomemeant?”
“She spent one night down here. Can’t claim it as home.” Apparently I’m not done listening to him. Maybe I want him to swoop in and tell me what a shithead I’ve been. Maybe I want him to tell me to go get her. Maybe I want him to say she’ll welcome me with open arms—that she loves me. Except that’s not reality and I won’t fall for fantasies.
“How do you know if you didn’t ask?”
“Because I know her.”
“All the more reason to?—”
I explode out of bed, pillows and blankets flying everywhere. The ceiling cracks open and rain pours down on us, soaking me to the bone. I don’t fucking care. If he does, he can get the fuck out.
“She’s not here, Omen. She’ll never be here. She doesn’t belong in Hell. So, stop meddling in my business.”
I gasp for breath, my shoulders heaving and my hands trembling. Movement behind him has me glancing up, and my heart stops. Clara purses her lips as Mari pushes past her, her purple hair streaming behind her in her haste to get away.
“Fuck,” I snarl, then launch over the bed. Omen tips backward in his chair and crashes to the ground. Clara steps to the side as I fling myself out of my bedroom and down the hall. Her laughter at Omen’s antics fades as I search for Mari. She couldn’t have gone far. Unless she’s mastered portals or whatever shit witches use to walk through worlds.
A glowing sigil on the inside of the front door catches my eye, and I race toward it. Slowly it fades from gold to silver, and I fling myself at the hard wood. My body disappears and I groan as I’m sucked through a keyhole. At least, that’s what it feels like. I’m compressed and rearranged, then put back together as I tumble into her world.
I’m met with a bucketful of hot water, and I sputter as my knees hit the hardwood floor. I swipe a hand down my face, wishing I had a shirt to wipe away the wetness. Being only in boxers was great while I was wallowing, but not so much for dramatic apologies.
“Well, at least you’ll be clean now,” she snarls. “Would you like some soap before you fuck off back to Hell?”
