White Witch, Black Curse

Panic iced through me, and I tightened my grip on my towel. "Get him out of here, Jenks!" I just about hissed. "I've been shunned!"

The pixy glanced over his shoulder, then revolved in the air to face me. "I think he knows already. He wants to talk to you. Rache, I'm sorry. He looks mad."

Shit, I'd been shunned. Marshal hadn't come over to hold my hand and tell me he could make it all better. I'd told him I was a white witch, and I was, but now…"

"Tell him to go away," I said, chickening out. "Tell him to leave before someone knows he's here and they shun him, too." But the pixy only shook his head.

"No. He has a right to tell you to your face."

I took a breath. My head started to hurt. This is going to be way fun. Turning to the mirror, I started brushing my hair. Arms crossed, Jenks waited for the right answer. The brush got tangled in my hair, and frustrated, I smacked it on the tiny counter. "I'll be out in three minutes," I said to get him to leave.

Nodding, he dropped to the floor. A faint glimmer of light, and he was gone.

I had underwear in the dryer and a camisole hanging over the industrial-size tub. My bathroom was really a glorified laundry room, but it was easier than sharing the more traditional bathroom across the hall with Ivy. Besides, I had jeans fresh from the dryer most days. No socks, though, I thought as I gave my hair a last brush and let it hang damp.

Worried, I quietly opened the door and looked hesitantly down the hall. It was cool out here compared to the moist warmth of the bathroom, and I could smell fresh coffee. Padding down the hall on silent bare feet, I peeked into the kitchen to find Marshal sitting with his back to me. I was out of his peripheral eyesight, and I hesitated.

He looked empty, or maybe just deep in thought as he stared at the grimy floor where the fridge had been, probably wondering what happened. His long legs were bent comfortably under the table, and the reflected sun glinted on his short curly hair. This was going to be hard. I didn't blame him for being mad at me. I'd told him I was a white witch and he had trusted me. Society said different.

Resolute, I pushed myself off the archway and into the kitchen. "Hi."

Marshal pulled his feet under him and spun. "Hey, you gave me a start," he said, his eyes wide and color flashing into his face. "I didn't expect you out for another ten minutes."

Giving him a tiny smile, I looked for something to hide behind, but all that was between us was space. Lots of new space. "You want some coffee?"

The cups scraped as I got two new ones out, and he said nothing as I filled them. He remained silent as I slid one in front of him. "I'm sorry," I said as I retreated, putting the island counter between us. Scared, almost, I took a sip. Hot bitterness slipped down. Gathering my courage, I set the mug by the sink. "Marshal—"

His eyes met mine, cutting me off. They weren't angry, they weren't sad, they were…empty. "Let me say something, and then I'll go," he said. "I think I'm allowed that much."

Depressed, I crossed my arms over my middle. My stomach hurt. "I'll get the shunning removed," I said. "You know this is a mistake. I'm not a black witch."

"When I went to the registrar's office about your classes this morning, my supervisor came in. He told me not to see you anymore," he said abruptly. "I think that's funny."

Funny. That's what he'd said, but his face was grim. "Marshal…"

"I don't like people telling me what I can't do," he added, sounding angry this time.

"Marshal, please."

His broad chest expanded and contracted, and he looked past me, toward the snowy garden. "Don't worry about it." Bringing his focus back into the kitchen, he shifted forward to reach into a back pocket of his jeans. "Here's your check. It will be a rainy day in the ever-after before they will cash it."

Swallowing, I stared at the envelope, feeling unreal as I took it. It was heavier than it should be, and I looked inside. My eyes widened. "Two tickets to the party at the top of the Carew Tower?" I said, shocked he even had them, much less was giving them to me. "Why?"

Marshal grimaced, eyes on the floor. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me to a New Year's Eve party tonight," he said, "but why don't you just take both tickets. You're going to need a lot of ambient energy to make that charm work. The top of the tower ought to be close enough."

My lips parted, and I stared at the formal invitations in my hand. I didn't know what was going on anymore. Jenks had said he was mad. Why was he helping me? "I can't take these."

He cracked his neck and backed up a step. "Sure you can. Put them in your pocket and say thank you. My supervisor is going to be there." Marshal sniffed. "You should meet him."

An uncertain smile came over my face. He wanted me to meet his supervisor? Maybe get a picture of us together? "And I thought I was wicked," I said, eyes warming. Damn it, he's leaving me. Well, what did I expect?