White Witch, Black Curse

He took a breath to protest, grimacing and dropping back when Mom hustled in from the kitchen, two pieces of pie on a plate covered with clear wrap. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said, elbowing Robbie out of her way to give me a hug good-bye. "Give us a call when it's over so we can sleep this morning."

Relief spilled through me that I didn't have to explain or that she wasn't trying to make me feel guilty for cutting out early. "Thanks, Mom." I breathed in her lilac scent as she gave me a quick squeeze and rocked back.

"I'm proud of you," she said as she handed me the pie. "Go kick some bad-guy ass."

I felt the prick of tears, glad she accepted that I couldn't be the daughter she wanted, and that she was proud of the daughter I was. "Thanks," I managed, clearing my throat to get the lump out of it, but it didn't work.

Giving Robbie a sharp look in turn, she said, "You two make up. Now." And with nothing more, she took the tray of coffee and returned to the kitchen.

Robbie's jaw tightened, belligerent to the end, and I forced myself to relax. I knew better than to walk out of here mad at him. It might be another seven years before I saw him again.

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry. But this is what I do. I'm not nine to five, and Mom's cool with that." He was looking at the bad-mojo amulet in my open bag, and I hid it behind my back. "You'll try to find that book, right?" I said, suddenly unsure, then I tightened my scarf.

Robbie hesitated, and then his shoulders eased. "Yeah. I will," he said around a sigh. "But I don't agree with what you're doing."

"Like you ever did," I said, finding a smile somewhere as I opened the door. "I'm happy for you and Cindy," I said. "Really. I can't wait to meet her."

At that, he finally smiled, too. "I'll give you her phone number," he said, gesturing to the night, "and you can call her. She's dying to meet you. She wants to do her thesis on you."

I jerked to a stop in the threshold and turned. "Why?" I asked suspiciously, and he lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

"Uh, I told her about your demon marks," he said. "I mean, she's a witch and all. She was going to see the smut on your aura and figure it out."

I came back inside and shut the door. "You told her what?" I said loudly, glad I had my gloves on to cover the demon mark on my wrist. I really needed to push Al into taking his name back so I could get rid of at least one of them.

"Sorry," he said smugly, not looking at all apologetic. "Maybe I shouldn't have, but I didn't want her to meet you and not have an explanation about the smut."

I waved a hand between us. "I mean, why does she want to do her thesis on me?"

Robbie blinked. "Oh! Uh, she's majoring in criminology. I told her you're a white witch with demon smut gained saving someone's life. That you can still be good and be covered in smut." He hesitated. "That's okay, isn't it?"

Giving myself a mental shake, I nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"Here," he said, handing me the envelope with the tickets. "Don't forget these."

"Thanks." The banshee tear was a hard lump in my pocket when I shoved the tickets away. "Maybe I'll trade them in for an earlier flight."

"That'd be great! We'd love it if you came out early. Just let us know, and we'll get the guest room cleaned up." He smiled at me toothily. "You know you're welcome anytime."

I gave him a hug good-bye before I stepped away and opened the door. The night had a dry sharpness, and I looked at Marshal, waiting, as I went down the shoveled walk. The porch light flicked on, and I waved at the shadow by the window. Robbie's last words went around and around in my thoughts, and I kept repeating them, trying to figure out why they bothered me.

"The mall?" Marshal said cheerfully when I got in, probably glad that I'd pulled him out from under my mom's often one-sided conversation. I handed him the pie and he made an appreciative "Mmmm."

"Yes, the mall," I said before putting on my seat belt.

The car was warm and the windows defrosted, but cold hit me when Robbie's last words finally penetrated and I blinked fast. I'm welcome anytime. I knew he had meant them to be full of acceptance, but that he had felt the need to say them said much more. He was getting married. He was moving on with his life, becoming a part of it, immersing himself and finding a place on the wheel. By getting married, he was no longer just my brother, he was someone else's husband. And though we argued a lot, a bond was being broken by the simple fact that he was no longer alone. He was a part of something bigger, and by inviting me in, he had unintentionally told me I was an outsider.

"Your mom makes really good pie," Marshal said, and I smiled at him across the long seat. Mindful of the ice, he put the car in gear and slowly headed for the mall.

"Yes, she does," I said, depressed. Maybe I should look at it as if I hadn't lost a brother, but had gained a sister.

Ri-i-i-i-ight.

Eleven