Wiccan Laws - Chapter 7

Wiccan Laws (Work. T)
7.
Keeping Breach a secret was harder than we thought. Whenever someone knocked on our door, we had to wait while Breach hid in our bathroom, and if that person insisted on coming in we quickly put in that our toilet wasn’t great so they shouldn’t use it. That excuse began to wear thin after a few days, though, and Breach took to rolling under a bed if someone like Laura popped over. We also ended up leaving her on her own for a long time when we went out. Because I had lost a bit of time on my coursework, I spent some days with my course friends trying to catch up, and as Scarlett’s exhibition drew nearer she was on high-alert, running back and forth between the Arts department and our room. I think Breach was getting lonely, but she still seemed reluctant to show herself in public.

“So how’s Carter going to get there?”
         I chewed the end of my pen. Me, Jenny, Lacey, Mia and Harri were working on a group project, something that had been started just as I came back. Carter was our main action hero, a rogue assassin helping people who didn’t want his help. I wondered how much of his character had been based on Dal’Ekka. “Maybe there could be a route for a special vehicle or something?”
         “Like a garbage truck route?” Harri piped up. “There are always garbage trucks in action movies.”
         “No there aren’t,” Mia said.
         “Well there sometimes is.”
         “Lacey?” Jenny asked.
         Lacey shrugged. “Might be funny if he gets covered in shit or something.”
         “I didn’t think we were going for funny,” I said.
         “Yeah. Carter’s someone who only does the cool thing,” Jenny said. “I don’t think he’d go for a garbage truck.”
         “Fine then,” Lacey muttered.
         “So are we still going for the special vehicle route then?” asked Mia.
         “I think it could work,” Harri mused. “Because you still get roads that need authorisation for certain vehicles, so perhaps there could be a back route to a factory or something?”
         “But Carter’s not going to a factory,” Jenny pointed out. Harri pulled a face.
         “Oh, I don’t know, then!”
         “Maybe we should take a break,” Lacey suggested hopefully.
         “Sure,” we agreed, and Jenny put down the notepad. I rolled onto my back, grateful for the plush carpet and the equally comfy cushion I’d stolen from the couch. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying a sense of relaxation that I hadn’t experienced in a while. I began planning what I’d do after our session had come to an end: I wanted to see Rob, and figured that he’d be up for a trip to Blunt Knives later on. I briefly contemplated asking Matt and Laura too, but wasn’t sure if I could stomach watching them kiss each other to death. I never got much further than that, because Jenny wanted to talk.
         “How’re things with Rob?”
         I sighed through my nose, smiling. “Pleasant,” I said. “Very pleasant indeed.”
         “Have you two… you know?”
         “No,” I said. And it was true – in all the while we’d been together, the most explicit thing we’d done was make out for a bit in his room. That had been great until Glenn walked in. I did feel a little sorry for him at the time, but now I’m slightly irritated. Unreasonable, yes, but love makes people irrational!
         “Why not?” Lacey asked.
         I twisted round and sent her evils. “That’s none of your business!”
         “How romantic is he?” Jenny wanted to know. They were all staring at me now, like gremlins after your Joos. I squirmed.
         “He has his moments,” I said, trying not to give too much away.
         It was Mia’s turn; “Has he, like, taken you out for a candle-lit dinner?”
         “When was the last time anyone went for a candle-lit dinner?”
         “Does anyone still own candles?” Lacey chipped in.
         “Wiccans might,” Harri said.
         “Whatever.”
         “Ooh, I bet he’s written you a song, hasn’t he?” Jenny gushed, eyes widening happily.
         “Uh, no,” I said hastily, “it’s not really that kind of music. Anyway, why are you all poking into my private life? Go get your own boyfriends!”
         “Well we haven’t seen you much outside of doing this,” Lacey said. “So we figured you were with Rob.”
         “Oh.” Dang, my absence was being noticed. As of yet, Rob hadn’t mentioned anything about my lack of commitment to our relationship, but if my friends were seeing it then surely ultra-observant-Rob would pick up on it sooner or later.
         Apparently, my response was too quiet. “Have you?” asked Harri.
         I faltered. “Er, sometimes – but we’re not doing anything. I mean, we are, but not like anything major. Which I’m fine with, and I think he is too. But we haven’t talked about it. Although we are talking –”
         “Calm down, Jaimie!” Mia said. “We just asked you where you’d been!”
         “Yeah, we didn’t need your life story!” Jenny laughed. Thankfully, that was the end of it, but it still played on my mind whilst we decided Carter’s fate. Once we called it a night, I waited until we’d gone our separate ways until calling Rob.
         The invitation surprised him, I think. “Blunt Knives? Why do you suddenly want to go there?”
         “We haven’t been there in a while,” I said, thinking up reasons on the spot. “And we’ve never actually been there just us two, so we should do just that because I want to have some fun and I want to see you.” A good list that he could hardly say no to.
         “I wouldn’t have put Blunt Knives down as a place for couples,” he said, but I could hear the smile growing.
         “It has alcohol and good music. What more could two people looking for alcohol and good music want?”
         “Aren’t you sophisticated.”
         “Come on, please? I haven’t properly been out since hospital! If you really don’t want to go, then that’s fine, but I feel like I’m missing you lately, and I just need to see you and let go!” I hoped I wasn’t sounding needy. “Please Robbie?”
         That did it. I only ever called him Robbie when I really, really wanted him to do something for me – which wasn’t often – so he knew this was a Big Ask. “Yeah, sure. What time?”
         “What suits you?”
         There was a moment of silence while he worked it out. “Meet you at yours in twenty minutes?”
         As he said it, I rounded the corner to my corridor, wondering if Scarlett would be in and secretly hoping she wouldn’t be. “Thanks Robbie, you’re totally amazing!”
         “Love you too.”
         I tried not to look too love-drunk as I slipped inside, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Breach was leaning against the window, and broke into a hesitant smile when she saw me. All her smiles seemed to be hesitant lately, as if she was afraid we’d be upset at her for being happy. “What’s up with you?”
         “Date!” I chimed, and skipped through to my room. Breach followed me in and helped me choose an outfit. She wouldn’t see my scars, but I could sense that she was keeping them in mind as she picked out a long-sleeved top and comfy jeans for me. I felt a little pang of guilt about leaving her again, but she assured me it was fine.
         “What time’s Rob getting here?”
         I glanced at my watch, having quickly changed and freshened up. “In about… any time now!”
         I thought it was only in stories or films where a character would say that and then there’d be a knock at the door, but apparently not. As Breach ducked round the corner of my door, she gave me a thumbs-up, and I mouthed “Thank you” in return. Excitement made me grin stupidly a little, but thankfully I managed to calm down as I opened the door to welcome – “Glenn?”
         “Hi.” He seemed tense, eyes serious behind his sleek glasses. “Can I come in?”
         “Uh, well I’m sort of going out in a minute –”
         “It won’t take long.” I sensed he wasn’t going to back down and stepped aside. The last person I wanted to fight with was Glenn, who had been perfectly nice to me since our first meeting, and I wanted to be in a good mood when Rob arrived. But what he said after I’d closed the door stunned me. “I know you’re hiding Breach here.”
         It was all I could do to stop my jaw hitting the floor. “What?”
         “Breach. She’s here, isn’t she?”
         Don’t look at the bedroom, don’t look at the bedroom! “What are you talking about? Breach has been gone for ages.”
         “I saw her at your window, Jaimie.”
         “How do you know?” My mind raced frantically as I tried to think of something to convince him he was wrong. “It could have been Scarlett…” Brilliant. Because Scarlett was always being mistaken for a half-Wiccan!
         “Why is she here?”
         “She’s not!”
         “Jaimie.” Breach appeared in the doorway of my bedroom, looking awkward. “Glenn’s right. He did see me at the window.”
         Glenn stared at her, mouth slightly open. “What’s going on?” he demanded. Breach looked at the floor, so he turned to me instead. I did a perfect fish impression for a few, excruciatingly long seconds, before I was saved by another knock at our door.
         “Can we explain later?” I asked quietly, pointing at the door. He didn’t seem happy, but as Breach slipped back into my room, he conceded, and followed me to the door. This time, it was my boyfriend, and if he was startled to see Glenn there he didn’t let on. Indeed, once Glenn was out of earshot, I pulled him to me for a kiss – one that went on for a bit longer than either of us expected, I think. I didn’t really want to stop, but oh well.
         “Someone’s excited,” he chuckled.
         “I need a break,” I explained, tugging impatiently on his t-shirt. He had on a nice leather jacket over the top, one I hadn’t seen before, and he’d styled his hair differently too: sort of swept to one side, but still spiky and stylishly messy. “Come on – before anyone knows we’re gone!” A little late for that, but he didn’t need to know. Besides, tonight was going to be about us two – no Spirits, no Ronins, no secretly-hiding-in-your-flat-friends, and no stupid story-writing groups. Just me and Rob, and maybe a double coke.

The place was absolutely choc-a-bloc. I mean it – I’ve never seen Blunt Knives so busy. At first I thought it was a blessing, that no-one would notice me and my guy tucked away in a corner. Then I began to think it might be a bit uncomfortable, and that there were more people to stare at us. When we started trying to find a table, it became somewhat unbearable. Everyone was either moving or stood in the middle of the movement. Strangers bumped into me left, right and centre. Each point of contact ripped through me like a knife, and I would have turned and bolted if I wasn’t holding onto Rob for dear life. Finally, we grabbed a freshly-abandoned table. I was never so relieved to sit down.
         “You really sure about this?” Rob asked, watching me with concern. “We can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”
         I shook my head. “It’s fine,” I said, putting on a smile. “I need to be getting used to this stuff anyway, right?”
         He didn’t argue, and turned towards the bar. “What do you want me to get you?”
         “Double coke.”
         He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile creeping up on him. “A double coke?”
         “Yeah.” He still looked disbelieving, so I explained: “The first time we were truly alone together here, Scarlett got me a double coke and you had it. I think of it now as... sort of symbolic.”
         He shook his head. “If you’re sure then.”
         “Positive.” And yet once he left to order, I began to feel nervous. Double cokes had drugs in them – quickies, even. I didn’t know what the side effects were let alone the main ones, but I was pretty sure you were only supposed to have one. Was I worried about addiction? Maybe a little, but Rob said there wasn’t enough in one drink to get addicted. I was so pummelling him if he was wrong.
         “We can swap if you want,” he reminded me as he returned.
         I eyed up the glasses in his hands. “Let me guess – Bacardi and vodka?”
         He shrugged. “It’s symbolic.”
         I laughed and took the frothy black drink he offered me, pleased that my hand stayed steady. As he sat down, I raised it a little and grinned. “To symbols,” I said as a toast.
         “To symbols.” There was a low chink from our glasses, and then it was time to taste. I only took a small sip to start with (I had no idea how powerful this thing would be), and was a little disappointed to see that it just tasted like regular coke. Across the table, Rob was observing me. “Take a bigger bit,” he said. Ah, trust. As wonderful as it is, it can completely destroy reason and sensibility. I did as he suggested and took a large mouthful.
         Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. That was all I could think for a few seconds; this was no ordinary coke, for sure. It didn’t even taste particularly coke-y either, more like coke and that nasty, rusty-tap-water taste you sometimes get in bottled water. I didn’t focus on that too much though. God knows I couldn’t as the quickie got to work, hitting me straight at the back of my head and making me screw my face up as my eyes and nose started to feel all fuzzy. The music seemed to get louder and sounded incredible as a wave of tingles ran up my body in time with its steady pulse. A pleasant warm feeling spread out from my chest, and when the tingling and fuzziness subsided I opened my eyes. That seemed to stop the sensations, and the world suddenly seemed dull and hollow. I blinked a few times as everyone danced in slow motion, then focused on Rob, who was trying not to laugh at me. “What?” It came out as a gasp, but somehow he heard me.
         “Your face!” he said. “Wish I’d had a camera right then.”
         “Are you sure this isn’t addictive?” My mouth felt stranger the more I talked.
         “Fairly sure.” He looked at it wistfully though, and I tried to think how long ago it had been since he’d last had one. Suddenly though, I decided it didn’t matter. I slid my glass across the table, taking it upon myself to acquire his in return. He didn’t object.
         “How did you react when you first had one?” I inquired.
         He blinked hard for a second then rubbed the back of his head. “Can’t remember. It was ages ago, and that night’s a bit of a blur now.”
         “Must’ve enjoyed it then.”
         He grinned. “How about you?”
         I struggled to come up with a way to describe the experience, and ended up waving my hands around while looking totally bamboozled. Incredibly, that appeared to make some sort of sense, and he laughed at my attempt to find words to go with the waving and face-making. “Is it like that every time?” I finally asked.
         “I wish,” he scoffed. “It’s like with any drug. The best time is your first time, then after that it’s just a good feeling. Don’t try and recreate that first time, though. That’s where addiction comes from.”
         “You think,” I added. He rolled his eyes. “How do you know so much?”
         “Maybe I’m a genius.”
         “Maybe you’re a druggie,” I joked.
         Shrug. “Weed’s not bad, and the occasional double coke makes things a bit more interesting.” He sighed. “Haven’t had a roll in ages. Wish they’d let us smoke in here.”
         My chest hummed as I drank the Bacardi-vodka. Not quite the same as double coke, but good enough. “What does Glenn say about that?”
         “He doesn’t like it, and he’s let me know, but I can get away with it if he’s not there. Besides, inspiration doesn’t just come out of thin air.”
         “Huh. Perhaps I should try that method.” Realising what I just said, I groaned and shook my head. “You are such a bad influence!”
         Rob leaned forward, an evil little grin on his face. “We’re artists,” he said darkly. “Influencing is what we do.”
         I reclaimed my double coke from him and returned the evil look. “Here’s to influence, then.”

Laughter. Music. Keep drinking. Dancing. People. Rob. Warm. Hot. Other kind of hot. More drink. Fuzzy fuzzy. Loud. Bright. Then dark. Then bright again. Flashing? Kissing. Drinking. Dancing. Falling over – ow. Laughing. Spinning. Dizzy. Dizzy with love. Ears hurt. Scream until your throat hurts. Sore arms. Head feels strange. Drink more. Dance with boyfriend more. Smile more. More music. Not tired. Fine, tired. Drink! Rob goes. Toilet? People dancing. People bumping. People touching. Euck. Get off me! Too close. Breach. Breach? No Breach… Where’s Rob? Toilet. No drink. Breach again! Follow. Stop touching me! Whoops. Upright again. Now – where’d she go?

I stumbled out of the side-entrance. Neon lights cast a ghostly blue glow from overhead, but otherwise it was empty. A dead end stood to my left, the entrance to a subway route to my right. Both looked equally dark. I blinked hard, the constant lights sort of strange compared to the carnage inside. Briefly forgetting why I had come out here, I squinted hard to try and focus on the dark spots, sure that I had seen my friend come this way.
         And yet, why would I have? Breach wanted to stay in my room… Maybe knowing Glenn knew she was there had freaked her out. Or perhaps she had something to tell me. But then she’d phone… Actually, looking at the bare concrete before me, did I even see her? How much had I drunk? Stupid question… I didn’t really want to know (something told me I’d had enough to make myself regret it in the morning). I decided I must have been seeing things – there was clearly no-one down this alley – and turned to go back inside, grumbling to myself about mind-tricks.
         The Spirit that barred my way was oh so familiar. Too familiar. The blue light shining off her orange hair made it look a different colour altogether, and her silver irises had a blue tinge that made her look mad. Her whole body looked slightly blue, too, as if she gained some power from the moon. It was clear she was here to finish the job. I screamed as I stumbled backwards, falling down the two steps and landing heavily on my back. Lifting my heavy head, I vaguely registered the shape of her crouching low, ready to spring down and devour me. As she launched herself into the air, I closed my eyes.
         There was a loud grunt then the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. My eyes flew open again, but I was confused when all I saw was red. Then the red moved, and even in my drunken state I recognised it as a cloak. The figure wearing the cloak stood up, having apparently landed at my feet, and my jaw dropped a little at what I saw. The bearer was tanned – very tanned. Beneath the cloak he appeared to be wearing very little: thick leather pants that stopped at his knees, golden greaves on his shins that doubled up as footwear, matching armguards, and a small gold helmet that left his face unprotected save for a strip of red cloth covering his mouth and nose. His chest and torso were bare, and I could just make out a few dark tattoos dancing across his skin. In one hand he held a staff, black and ivory down the middle with two, yellow-gold curved blades on either end. He was well toned, and I could only think of one possible reason for his appearance – this was Dal’Ekka, the Wiccan Ronin protecting me.
         The orange Spirit lay a few feet away, glowering at him from under a flick of hair. By the time I worked out that he had thrown her there, she was on all fours and surrounded by friends: blue, violet, and red. I frowned, struggling through my hazy memories. Something wasn’t right.
         “You need to remove yourself,” Dal’Ekka commanded, his voice deep and thickly accented. The Spirits began to slink forward, all eyes fixed on my protector. “Quickly!”
         They looked smug. Why did they look so – “There’s another!” I cried. Sure enough, the elf-eared Spirit flew from out of nowhere towards Dal’Ekka’s back. The Wiccan had just enough time to swing the staff round and knock him back before quickly swinging it over my head and blocking another Spirit who had lunged for me in the distraction.
         “Go!” he shouted again, readying himself for another onslaught. Still on my back, I pushed myself away from the fight, not trusting myself to stay upright for long. My thoughts and movements were slow, though, and after sliding a few feet away I realised that my exit was well and truly blocked. There was no chance of anyone inside Blunt Knives hearing us, and anyone else would just ignore the commotion and blame it on the alcohol. I started to panic. Where could I go?
         “Jaimie!” I hesitantly took my eyes off the fight to see who called my name. It was Breach. “Over here!” she called, waving frantically at me from a shadowy corner. I tried to stand up, managing to get to my feet but not completely upright – as I stumbled forward though, Breach was there to catch me, and she helped me over to the shadows where she had hidden.
         As she sat me down with my back to the wall, I grinned and pointed. “I knew it was you!”
         “Do you trust me?” Breach asked urgently.
          I sighed. “What have you done now?” I moaned. “Did you kiss Glenn? ‘Cause I think he might be g-”
         “What are you talking about?” she hissed. “Jaimie this is serious – do you trust me?”
         I tried to be serious like her. A quick glance at the fight saw to that – Dal’Ekka spun the long staff in an arc before him, aiming for the Spirits’ legs. They all jumped back except for one, blue, who leapt forward for Dal’Ekka’s face. The opposite end of the staff was brought up, catching the Spirit before it could claw at the Ronin’s face and flinging him down onto the ground. As another dived in for a second attempt, I turned back to Breach – much more sober now – and nodded. “Yes. I trust you.”
         “Good.” She clasped my right wrist, turning my hand so it was palm-up, and brought a rough-edged knife to my skin.
         A knife? “Wait – ah!” It might not have been so painful if it had been smooth edged, but at that point I was glad I’d had a lot to drink. As deep red blood began to flow across my palm (the same colour as Dal’Ekka’s cloak, I noticed), I frowned at my friend’s back. “Breach, what are you –”
         “Dal’Ekka! Nganin sanne!” she shouted. He glanced over her shoulder, then reached out at a Spirit flying towards him. One curved blade shone brilliantly as the glow of the orange Spirit passed by. Next thing I knew, Dal’Ekka had her by her wrist, writhing and kicking the air and clutching her shoulder. She was yowling, too, the first time I’d heard any of them make a noise. From under her hand, a line of silver trickled down her arm, the same colour as her irises. I stared. She was bleeding.
         “Di’et!” he shouted back at her, fending off the remaining Spirits who now seemed more frenzied than ever. They weren’t attacking him, though – they were trying to get past him.
         I started as Breach grasped my bleeding hand. She was staring fiercely at a book she held, her runes were just beginning to show. Before I could form a question she began chanting in Wiccan, a long stream of incomprehensible words that sounded old and powerful. I watched, breathless and a little scared, as the whole alley seemed to shake with the power of the wind that suddenly bore down on us. It pressed me against the wall, seemingly avoiding Breach, and Dal’Ekka stuck one end of his staff into the ground. Breach’s voice started to echo, all her runes shining vibrantly on her skin. There was a crack and I snapped my head round – beneath the Spirit Dal’Ekka held, a white hole had formed in the concrete, swirling violently and pulling rubbish bins and litter towards it centre. The Spirits had stopped attacking, and had turned to run – but they couldn’t. The wind pushed them back as the vortex pulled them closer, and one by one they disappeared into its maw: first violet, then red, followed by blue, and finally green elf, who managed to hold on the longest. They each made strange screams as they lost the fight, and my stomach churned at each one.
         That left the orange Spirit, the one who had started the attacks. She clung desperately to Dal’Ekka’s arm, a mixed look of fear, anger and hatred burning from her silver eyes. Before she too was swallowed into oblivion, I wondered that someone as gentle and as loving as Breach could create something so full of hatred and rage. The Spirit’s last look was directed at me. Disgust rolled off her, and her lip curled into a snarl. With that, she let go.
         The wind picked up, the vortex seemed to spin faster, and the world shook and rumbled before us. I feared for Dal’Ekka, still in the midst of it all with just his staff to cling onto, and huddled back against the wall with Breach as we shielded our faces from something. The noise grew in intensity, like a storm was brewing and we were its eye – then, just like that, it stopped. The wind disappeared, the noise echoed away, and everything stopped shaking. Lowering my arm, I saw Dal’Ekka pluck the staff from the concrete as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of the vortex at all. Nobody would have known a fight took place. The Ronin himself was barely scratched.
         “Are you okay?” Breach whispered. Her wide eyes were watching me with concern, the excitement just fading from them. Her runes had gone and the book lay closed at her feet. The knife had vanished.
         I nodded as Dal’Ekka’s shadow fell over us. “What just happened?”
         “Breach performed a Completion Ritual,” he explained, crouching down and tearing at the edge of his cloak. I would have protested as he used to wrap up my hand, but it already looked pretty torn.
         “A what?” I wasn’t feeling so drunk anymore, but my thoughts still came fairly groggily.
         “A ritual that completes the objective of a Wearta-Nwueyn.” (“Vengeance Spirit,” Breach translated quietly.) “They desire the blood of the one they are commanded to target. The combination of your blood, their blood, and the spell achieves this objective without death.” As he spoke, Dal’Ekka wound the soft red cloth around the cut on my hand, his strong hands gentler than I expected.
         “But… they didn’t look happy about being ‘completed’?”
         “The Spirits prefer to taste the blood,” Breach explained. “Their instinct is to kill, an instinct derived from the most basic of instincts we possess ourselves.”
         “The desire to eliminate whomever we see as a threat,” he elaborated.
         “The ritual sort of forces them back without letting them taste you. Most of the time, anyway. A lot of half-Wiccans aren’t taught the spell, though, so the rituals don’t happen often.”
         I processed this all slowly, their words blurring together slightly in my head before making some sense. “So… they’re gone?”
         “Yes,” said Dal’Ekka.
         “For good,” Breach added.
         I had always thought that this news would elate me, that I would be jumping around with joy at the thought of being free, of never having to keep glancing over my shoulder or no longer being afraid to go out alone. Instead, I felt an empty, hollow sense of satisfaction. Try as I did, I just couldn’t feel happy about it. I just sat there, fingering the fresh red bandage on my hand, mulling over the news and my response to it – or lack thereof. Why wasn’t I happy?
         Dal’Ekka and Breach stood up above me, conversing in Wiccan. “Kou nga indilgairn ra’hastafta?” she asked.
         “Ah. Doushte, ngé prouda’en vrokaner hre’ft glarè-dün ra-bensaar lu Wearta-Nwueyn talg goorni dasarath.”
         “Nga-tol mironimen taln ré adelen. Ahsa-ngé, Dal’Ekka.” She moved one foot back and bowed to him formally. Normally, displays of their culture would have fascinated me. Tonight, I barely noticed.
         Dal’Ekka dipped his head in response and turned to leave. He took only a few steps before Breach called after him again. “Daret törl nga dir-gitten ngé?”
         “Nga-tol rivehr brohn ngé,” he said over his shoulder. It occurred to me then that he was leaving. They were gone – his services were no longer required. I might not see him again.
         “Wait,” I said, struggling to get to my feet. He stopped and turned slightly as Breach helped me to my feet, hovering near me in case I fell again. “Uh, thank you,” I said. “For looking out for me. I know you didn’t have to do it, and you have no idea how grateful I am that you did. If I can help Breach repay you –”
         “The debt is owed by Breach alone,” he said with finality. I closed my mouth, unsure how to reply.
         “Twseon, Dal’Ekka,” Breach said beside me, again bowing her head slightly. I copied her for good measure.
         “Twseon,” he returned, then silently left us.
         “Twseon?” I asked.
         “Uh… farewell or goodbye.”
         “Oh.” There was a moment of silence. I began to feel a chill and rubbed my arms to try and warm up. They felt lumpy and bumpy again, though, so I stopped.
         “I guess I’ll head back too, then,” Breach said, picking up a shoulder bag I hadn’t seen. “Sorry about your hand.” I shrugged. It didn’t hurt. She smiled gently at me. “Twseon, Jaimie.”
         I summoned a smile for her. “Twseon.” I probably didn’t say it right, but it made her happy, and she quickly trotted away. “Oh – Breach?” She halted and glanced back. “That ritual. Does it help Guides as well, or is there another one for that?”
         She looked unsure. “I think it might do. I’ll have a look when I get back,” she promised. And just like Dal’Ekka, she was gone.
         I stood where I was for a bit under the blue glow of the neon light. I still didn’t feel happy. Maybe, I thought, I wouldn’t be truly happy until I knew Kyler was okay. Holding my thoughts on Kyler, I went back inside on autopilot, trying to muster up feelings from somewhere. Back in Blunt Knives, though, the music was now too loud and thumpy, each beat hitting me like a giant pillow. The flashing lights stung my eyes, blinding me as I tried to find Rob without touching people. The more people kept bumping into me, the more I wanted to run.
         “Hey.” Someone touched my shoulder and I yelped, still clutching my body defensively. Rob held up his hands. “Whoa, hey – it’s only me.” As the lights flashed around us, I caught glimpses of his expression changing, like a stop-motion animation. “Jaimie?” I grimaced as someone pushed past and he moved closer protectively. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
Don’t touch me.
         Horrified at what I’d just thought, I couldn’t help it – I burst into tears. I was too upset to care that he was touching me again, holding me close as I sobbed into his chest. It was like déjà vu, only this time I didn’t fully understand why I was crying.

He wanted answers. Of course he did. I refused, though. I wanted to talk when we were both sober. I can’t count the number of times I’ve taken him for granted – and I’m guilty of doing so – but I was so relieved when he agreed to that, remembering how Glenn had insisted on knowing if Breach was in my room. Rob passed me over to Scarlett (reluctantly, apparently), who put me to bed almost instantly. Breach had explained everything. During the night I dreamt of a storm, forked lightning and booming thunder. Spirits of all shapes and sizes were running or floating towards me, a glowing-white rainbow that shone against the near-black sky. I ran against them as they parted to flow around me, calling for Kyler at the top of my voice. I ran until I was sore, until I could hardly shout. Finally, I slowed to a halt, dragging air down my lungs as the lightning scarred the sky. One final call to be heard above the thunder-roll: “Stop!”