Page 15 of Monsters' Manor

I’d have done just about anything to avoid turning back to my mother for support, and I guess that now includes agreeing to Odelia’s terms, no matter how much it still terrifies me.

“Fire magick,” I say, pushing all those throat-clenching memories aside. “And telekinesis. I can work on training those.”

Odelia stares at me for a few more moments, considering, before she nods. “Excellent. You’ll start tomorrow. I’ll let Renwick know.”

“Why Renwick?” I can’t help but ask.

“Why not Renwick? He’s been with Edgar’s Acres for five years now, and he’s got a few powers of his own that might surprise you. Not to mention, the demon is exceptionally durable if you have any more… accidents.”

I try not to roll my eyes at that.

“Unless there’s another reason you’d rather not train with him? I’ve noticed the two of you haven’t exactly hit it off, but if he’s crossed any lines, or if he’s—”

“No,” I say quickly, feeling the unexpected need to defend the irritating demon. “He hasn’t done anything but annoy the shit out of me.”

Odelia cracks a thin smile. “He can be somewhat of an acquired taste.”

I certainly don’t have any plans to acquire a taste for him, but I don’t say that. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Odelia agrees.

I nod and take a step toward the door.

“Rosemary,” she says, stopping me. “None of this is set in stone. You’re not a prisoner here. And you’re free to leave if you decide it’s not something you can handle.”

The words prickle against my skin. They’re not offered as a challenge, but they certainly feel like one.

I’m free to give up whenever I want. Free to fold. Free to scurry away back to the mundane world.

And… fuck. A part of me still wants to. The scared, vulnerable, panicked part of me that recoils every time I feel my magick brewing beneath my skin wants nothing more than to run away from it all.

But where would I go? Is there anywhere else left for me?

All those doubts and worries ricochet around my mind, and I know I’m not going to have any answers for them tonight.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, and Odelia looks pleased enough with that response.

“We’ll give it until Samhain. Train with Renwick. Get control of your magick. Decide if this world is for you, Rosemary.”

5

Although I did, indeed, agree to Odelia’s terms, I’m sure as hell not happy about it as I clock in for my shift in the ticket booth. I’m not happy about it while I’m taking money and issuing wristbands all evening, and I’m not happy when Lara leaves for the night and I’m left to close up alone.

I’m still brooding over it when the gates close for last admission. Though we don’t let anyone in after eleven, the guests still inside will filter out for the next hour or two. It’s my job to close the booth and shoo away stragglers or answer questions if anyone stops by.

The moon is beginning to wane, but is still plenty high and bright in the sky as I step out of the booth and pull the black plastic trash bag out of the can at the side of the building. I run it down to the dumpster and am just back in sight of the booth when I hear a voice call out from behind me.

“Hey there darlin’.”

Fighting back a shudder at the drunken, disgustingly sexual slur in his tone, I turn to find one of this evening’s guests wobbling toward me.

I recognize him from earlier. He was trying to flirt with Lara while she was counting out his change, and gave me a lecherous wink before he headed into the Acres with the rest of his party. He didn’t seem intoxicated then, but by the way he’s stumbling now it’s clear he made more than a couple stops at the mead booth over the last few hours.

“Can I help you?” I ask, not bothering to hide the irritated edge in my voice.

The man grins. “Well hey there, sad eyes. Why don’t you give me a smile?”

Fucking creep. Why do men like this always have some sort of sick sixth sense for singling out a woman who’s feeling down on herself?

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