Page 80 of Demon's Bride

Lingering over it isn’t going to solve anything, so with as much determination as I can draw up, I look out at the surrounding forest.

“Can you take us to Beech Bay?” I ask.

Once I’ve told Eren a bit more about where the town lies, the roads coming in and out of it, the best place we might portal in without drawing any notice, he closes his eyes again to trace the invisible magickal lines.

“I think I’ve got it,” he says a minute later.

He picks me up, and the world starts to tilt and shift. It’s like some middle ground between the ether of the Veil and the easy, seamless portals in his realm. The magick of the ley lines seems to fight us a little as we step into it, prickles slightly along my skin, and a wave of relief washes over me when we step out into another wooded clearing, one I recognize well.

We’re in a small nature preserve just a half-mile outside Beech Bay’s city center. I’ve always loved this place, and came to walk here whenever I could. It’s close enough to the town for me to walk to Joan’s shop, and wooded enough for Eren to stay hidden.

Only, it seems like he hasn’t gotten the message.

“I’m coming with you,” he says immediately when I tell him I’ll be back soon.

“Um,” I say, looking him up and down. “You better wait here. Unless you’re interested in causing a mass panic?”

He looks a little affronted. “Surely the sight of a single demon would be no great cause for panic. Your entire coven saw me on the night of the Tithe.”

I lean up and kiss his cheek. “We’re not in witch territory anymore. Joan and I lived very firmly in the mundane world. Normal humans—no magick, no demons.”

“Sounds boring,” he scoffs.

“It was,” I assure him. “And wonderful.”

Still not quite satisfied with being left behind, I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. “Do you know how to cast a glamour?”

I snort. “Eren. I just learned how to summon a simple sphere of witchlight a couple of days ago, and I’m not even sure I could accomplish that with how little magick I can access here. There’s no way I could make and hold an entire glamour over you.”

Just as he’s about to offer some other protest, I lean in and kiss him. He’s stiff at first, surprised, but melts into me after a few seconds.

“I’ll be fine,” I murmur against his lips. “This is Beech Bay, the sleepiest, safest little town you could imagine. And I know it like the back of my hand. I’ll go in, speak to Joan, and be back before you know it.”

I need him to trust me. Despite his fears, despite whatever anxious need makes him desperate to keep me close, I need him to trust me. This is never going to work if he can’t.

“Alright,” he says finally, pulling away. “I’ll stay here and stay hidden. But don’t take too long.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I press one last kiss on his cheek. “I won’t. Promise.”

Beech Bay is just the same as I left it.

There’s no reason it would have changed in the three days I’ve been gone, but it still seems impossible that my entire life has been turned on its head and everything here is just the same. The same quiet Main Street, the same shops and parks.

When I arrived here fresh out of college to take the assistant librarian job at the local middle school, I’d fallen in love immediately. In Beech Bay, I’d just been Allie. Not Allison Hawthorn, Esme Hawthorn’s daughter. Not Allison Hawthorn, utter disappointment of a witch.

Joan had joined me a few months later to set up her shop, and the two of us both built lives almost completely removed from the coven. While that separation had hurt a little at first, and although we both paid service dues to the coven to keep our membership, my life here had quickly become as comfortable as a worn hoodie. This was my place, my path, something that belonged to me.

Seeing it now with fresh eyes, it makes a little lump set into the base of my throat. That lump grows even larger when I reach the front door of Joan’s tea shop.

She’s put her sweat and tears into this place, and I can’t even begin to tally up the time I’ve spent helping her make it into what it is today. Celestial Blends is an eclectic little space just off Main Street, with plants hanging in the windows and sitting on every available surface, comfortable thrifted chairs and sofas, mismatched tables, and an ambiance that feels magickal even if you aren’t a witch.

It’s Monday, so I know my best friend will be here as I reach for the door handle and pull it open, the familiar scent of the shop washing over me immediately. The bells above the shop door jingle as it swings shut, but they’re drowned out almost immediately by a cry from behind the counter.

“Allie!” Joan shrieks, vaulting herself straight over and rushing to me. “Oh my god! What are you doing here?”

Her running hug hits me with enough force to draw a littleooffrom me.

Joan smells like tea spices and baking and the lavender soap she’s used since we used to be roommates. Looking over her shoulder at the familiarity of the shop, tears sting behind my eyes.

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