Changeling
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I bit my lip. What was I thinking? This was exactly what Hunter always talked about: making the wrong decision, making the decision that benefits only yourself, making the decision that doesn't take other people into account. He always said that was why the council had introduced regulations and guidelines back in the early 1800s. Because it's so easy to make the wrong small decision. And once you do, it's even easier to make the wrong big decision. And then, boom. You're part of the darkness.
I made choices every day, all day long. I needed to be more aware of all of them, needed to consciously try to make the right decision, a decision for good. I resigned myself to the fact that the only thing I would get right on this test was my own name.
When Killian wasn't waiting for me after school, I felt relief as well as disappointment. I could try sending him a witch message, I knew—but maybe that would make him suspicious. After all, we had seen each other almost everyday this week. Would I seem to clingy if I called him today, too?
"Want to come hang out?" Bree asked as I walked toward Das Boot. "Robbie and I are going to my house for a while."
"Thanks," I said. "But I've been letting a lot of things slide. I better go home and crank."
"Okay. See you later."
I started my car and turned the heater up. I wondered where Bree and Robbie were in their relationship and how it was going. Although I had been seeing my friends every day this week, I felt oddly disconnected from them. Being with Killian had meant only fun and magick. Unfortunately for my mission, it hadn't meant really talking to each other, sharing our feelings, getting closer.
Okay. Now I was all touchy-feely. This was getting me nowhere. I had to focus: concentrate on getting Killian to call Ciaran, getting closer to both of them, saving Starlocket. There wasn't any time to think about my own problems. And probably, I thought as my heart sank into my stomach, that was a good thing.
When I got home, I cleaned the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher for the first time since my parents have left, fed Dagda and cleaned his litter box, and called Aunt Eileen.
"Yep, everything is fine," I told her, trying to sound like that was true. "No—no coed sleepovers. At least not yet. Ha ha." After we hung up, I headed upstairs to my room and determinedly sat down at my desk. I would study for a while, then send a witch message to Killian, asking him about Ciaran.
I started with American history, reviewing chapters and making notes. I hoped that I could undo some of the damage of today's test with extra credit. Dagda came and settled himself on my desk right under the heat of the lamp.
"You have it good," I told him. "No school, no parents, no choices between good and evil. No history test."
Ugh. If only I could do a t`ath me`anma brach with Mr. Powell and just absorb all his knowledge. Then I could ace this class.
A couple of hours later I ate an apple with peanut butter for dinner and got ready to send a witch message to Killian. I was just calming my thoughts to do it when my senses tingled: Hunter was coming up the walk. I still seemed to be able to pick up on his vibrations more easily than I could almost anyone else's.
It occurred to me that the last time I saw him, I'd been throwing up my guts. So I felt really lovely and feminine, waiting for him to come to the door. At least this time my face was clean.
"Hi," I said as he stepped onto the porch.
"Hi." His green eyes swept me from head to foot. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Thanks for your help the other night," I said, not looking at him.
"You're welcome," he said, just as coolly. "I'm here to receive your report. Can we go inside?"
What report? I wondered. I'd given my report to Eoife this morning. Had he not heard it from her? Or was there some other reason he wanted to come over? Puzzled, I frowned at him for a second before realizing he had asked me a question.
"No, you're not supposed to be in the house. Here, let's sit in Das Boot," I said, digging in my pocket for the keys. It was frigid inside my car, and the vinyl seats didn't help any. But I blasted the heater, and a few minutes later we were comfortable.
"You met with Eoife this morning?" he asked, taking off his gloves and shoving them in his pocket.
"Yes. Is Suzanna Mearis still in a coma?"
He shook his head. "They did healing spells all day, and she woke up a little while ago."
I sighed in relief. "Thank the Goddess."
"Yes." Hunter nodded somberly, then turned his green eyes back to mine. "So tell me about Killian."
I shrugged. "I saw him yesterday at Bree's. Practically everyone from Kithic was there. I asked him if he had contacted Ciaran, and he said he hadn't. Didn't Eoife tell you this?"
Hunter frowned, and I got it: he was here because he had an excuse to be here, with me. Oh, Hunter, I thought longingly.
"Anyway," I said, looking at my hands, "I was about to send him a witch message, asking to get together."
"He's unbelievably slippery," Hunter said, almost to himself.
"Excuse me?"
"He gets out of everything, like an eel," Hunter went on. "He got out of New York before the ritual, he got off scot-free the night you were sick. He careens through life, having a good time and not worrying about anyone else."
"I think that's a little harsh," I said. "Killian's—incredibly fun. He's irresponsible, but I don't think he's hurtful. There's no reason to think he's deliberately keeping Ciaran from meeting me."
Hunter looked at me, and all at once I remember other times sitting in my car, with our hands all over each other and our mouths joined fiercely. I swallowed and looked away.
"Give up the mission," Hunter said quietly.
"No. I'm getting it done."