Page 19 of Of Demons and Witches

“I really thought they’d come,” Sindri says.

For Ashton. Not for my sake. He doesn’t say it but I hear it. Jason and Emrys don’t want to be with me.

“Did Jason sound convinced?” I ask.

Sindri takes a long moment to reply. “Not entirely. His memory of the last weeks seems… incomplete.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean? He can’t remember last week?”

“He remembers some things but not everything. Especially his memories of the time he spent with us—with you—seem affected.”

Good God. “That’s bad. What does he remember?”

Sindri’s mouth twists. “He remembers clearly that you lied to us and that he hates Ashton.”

“Christ.”

“Well, I was more like,holy fuck. But in the old fae tongue.”

I smile at him. In spite of everything, he’s here, pale and tired but present to support Ashton. “I still don’t get how her spell didn’t get you and Ashton.”

“See, it’s hard work, being with you.” He winks at me.

“Idiot.”

“Hm.” He gets a distant look in his eyes and comes to a stop.

I realize Ashton has stopped, too. I’m about to ask why—I don’t see any gate or fence or any other sort of boundary—but then I feel it.

The spell. Demonblood, I guess, since it feels so different from the magic the boys usually have to struggle with—sharper, darker, as if made of small razorblades against my skin, inside my head. It’s new, sensing so much. What changed? It’s as if naming the different kinds of magic made them more tangible. As if accepting the fact I may have magic lets me sense it.

I read once that the ancient people had no word for the color blue and so they didn’t see blue. Instead, for them, blue was part of the purple or the green spectrum. The name of a thing or a person creates a concept behind it, like the roots under a tree, a support that you weren’t aware of before. You thought you saw a peculiar purple or green when you actually saw blue—and once blue was named, you saw blue everywhere because you could name it. Blue like Sindri’s hair. Blue like the sky. Would I have known it’s blue if I didn’t have a word for it? Same with magic. Would I have known it was magic I felt until I knew what it was, would I—?

“Mia.” Ashton is facing me, his pretty gray eyes on me. He tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. “You can’t come with us.”

“What?” That brings me back to the present with a thump. “Why? We’re both going with you.”

“It might be dangerous. I’m not risking you for a visit to my brother.”

“Dangerous? For me? No, it’syouthey might be after. It’syouthey shot and put a spell on.”

“Think about it, Mia,” he says. “Whoever shot at us didn’t even know you’re a witch but now… Now they probably know. That makes you a target, too.”

“I don’t care.” I catch his hand before he lowers it. “I’m going. What if the shooter hits you? What if there is a surge you can’t control? I’m your best shot at making it back in one piece.”

“She’s right,” Sindri says, “or I’d have locked her up in her room already.”

“Sin!” I glare at him.

He shoots me an unrepentant grin. “Sorry,Almaya. If need be, I’d force you to save yourself. If that makes me an asshole, then so be it.”

“You’re an asshole already,” Ashton mutters, “so don’t worry about it.”

“Said by the guy I’m trying hard not to pound into a pulp,” Sindri hisses. “Better watch your mouth, vampire. You and I, we need to have words.”

“About your mother. I know. I never touched her, Sin.”

“And that’s the only reason you’re still standing,” Sindri snarls, hands fisted, eyes blazing. “If I find out you were even present when it happened and did nothing—”

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