Page 12 of Monsters' Manor

Renwick makes a soft, distressed noise in the back of his throat. “That’s what had you so upset? Using your magick?”

I’m absolutely, unequivocally not going to answer that question. When I glance back up and see his red eyes narrowed and face creased in obvious concern, my stomach clenches.

Before I have the chance to say anything, Odelia cuts back in, jerking her chin toward the manor. “Ren, go make yourself useful helping Margot set up the Demonic Dining Experience for this evening. She could use an extra set of hands.”

He nods, but gives me one last look of sympathy and understanding before he goes.

I hate it.

Being exposed like this. Made to feel vulnerable. Having the one thing I’ve done my damnedest to bury and ignore dragged to light and put on display for others to pick at.

“Let’s go to my office,” Odelia says, already walking away without waiting for my answer.

“I have to get to my shift with—”

“You can be a few minutes late tonight, I’ve got it covered. Come on.”

With the matter apparently settled, she stalks off. I’m left standing there, stewing in all my irritation and embarrassment, knowing I have no choice but to follow.

Not that I have to be happy about it. No, as I trail behind her to a small building set off to the side of the manor where the Edgar’s Acres admin staff works, I let all those emotions simmer and build. Enough so that by the time we reach her office and take seats on opposite sides of her wide wooden desk, I’ve worked myself into a brittle, righteous indignation.

“I meant what I said about not touching my magick,” I say as soon as we’re seated.

Odelia arches a brow. She looks so much like my father that it knocks the air from me at times. The same big, expressive features, the same dark eyes. At one time they even had the same dark brown hair, but hers is nearly all gray now.

I wonder if my father’s would be, too, if he were still alive.

“And yet,” Odelia drawls, snapping me out of those thoughts. “Your incident in the market last night would suggest otherwise.”

“It was an accident.”

“An accident? Like the one that cost you your last job?”

I breathe slowly through my nose, trying to keep my anger in check. “No. Not like the one that lost me my last job. I moved a tarot card, not—”

“Set a building on fire?”

“I did not set a building on fire. I set afiling cabineton fire. And that was only because—”

“The reason is irrelevant, Rosemary.” The chill in Odelia’s tone cuts through the argument I was trying to make. “That you have so little control over your magick is not a matter to take lightly.”

“I’ve got a handle on it,” I say through my teeth.

“I highly doubt that. Almost as much as I doubt the wisdom of letting a loose cannon witch continue working here without training to prevent any moreaccidents. Seems like a liability, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t have any interest in training my magick.”

“So you’ve said. And with all of that in mind, why shouldn’t I just ask you to leave now?”

Her words slither uncomfortably down my spine and take up residence like a greasy residue in the bottom of my stomach.

She’s not wrong.

I know I’m being a choosy beggar when I truly have no right to be. I’m half-expecting the next words out of her mouth to be a curt dismissal and an order to pack my shit and get out, when she lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Why does it bother you so much? The idea of accessing your magick? Learning to control it?”

She knows why. Or at least she should.

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