Page 25 of Monsters' Manor

It’s different from what I felt with Silas. Dangerous. Unstable. Something I can’t control or understand.

Something that scares me.

Despite what I agreed to with Odelia, I still can’t make myself reach for it. Whatever walls I’ve erected between myself and my magick are staying firmly in place.

I’m afraid of what might wait on the other side.

Renwick either doesn’t notice my inner turmoil, or chooses to ignore it. Instead, he throws out a different question, momentarily tugging me out of my spiral.

“When have you been able to access your magick before?”

The answer pops into my mind instantly, but I’m not about to spill. I clench my jaw and cross my arms over my chest, still stubbornly staring at him.

Renwick sighs. “Do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“For you, yes.”

Another few seconds of silence and that crackling, contentious energy between us pulses hotter.

“Tell me about what happened at your last job.”

I’ve just opened my mouth to let him know I’m absolutely not going to talk about that when Renwick cuts me off.

“And before you refuse, remember that Odelia expects me to report back on how our training is going.”

I’d expected that would be the case, and the thinly veiled threat finally loosens my tongue.

“I set a filing cabinet on fire. It was an accident.”

“An accident,” Renwick repeats, not looking convinced. “Alright. So what caused this accident?”

I’d been so mad when it happened. Stewing in my frustration and indignation. Tired, so tired of Murphy and the way he’d been subtly harassing me for months. The audacity he had to make a move on me when I was just trying to do my job.

And when he’d immediately retaliated against my rejection, let me know exactly what kind of asshole he was, I’d lost it.

I didn’t mean to set the filing cabinet on fire. I didn’t mean to do anything.

One moment, I’d been sitting at my desk boiling over with all that fury and helplessness and dread, and the next I’d seen the flames.

Some of that memory must show on my face, and Renwick jumps on it immediately.

“Strong emotions?” he guesses, eyes lighting up with certainty. “That’s what drives your magickal outbursts?”

“I don’t have outbursts.”

Goddess. I’m not a toddler losing my shit because I didn’t get my favorite crackers at snack time.

“Outbursts. Flares. Whatever.” Renwick brushes the matter of semantics aside with a careless wave of his hand. “It’s not unheard of for emotions to rule your magick, Rosie. It’s just something we have to work past.”

“What do you mean by ‘work past?’”

“I mean, we need to test those limits. Come up against those outbur—flares—and work through them. Recognize when they’re happening and redirect the energy. And lucky for you, you already seem to have at least some measure of control, if your little trick with the tarot card was any indication.”

“The thing with the tarot card wasn’t—”

“Oh really? You want to claim that me pushing your buttons and royally pissing you off wasn’t causing some strong emotions?”

I bristle at that. The last thing I want is for Renwick to know how much he sets me off. “I wasn’t—”

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