Page 4 of Demon's Beauty

Allie’s gaze darts back and forth over my face, understanding dawning in her expression.

Of course she would understand.

Who would know better how very, very badly someone could need an escape from this place than Esme Hawthorn’s daughter?

“Yeah,” she says, nodding toward the door. “Yeah, I can take you back with me. Is there anything you need to grab?”

The bottom drops out of my stomach as I think of my little room in the dormitory wing, my workshop down in the cellar, mind racing as I try to come up with a list of things I can’t bear to leave behind.

Stop. I need to stop. I can’t think like that.

This is just… a short trip.

A vacation to clear my mind. Some time away to work on an interesting project with Vayla and get some distance and perspective.

I’m sure once I do, I’ll realize all this angst over my Ascension is just an overreaction on my part.

I’ve been training for this my whole life. Now that it’s almost here, of course I would have some nerves. I just need to shake those nerves out and I’ll be right as rain. Ready to come back and step into the life that’s always been waiting for me.

“I just need a little bit of time. Meet you at the Veil after your meeting with Esme?”

“Sure, I should be done in about an hour. I’ll see you there.”

Allie heads toward the stairs, and I leave in the opposite direction, doing my best not to break into a run.

I have an escape.

A tenuous, reckless escape.

But an escape.

I pass other witches as I go, forcing myself to keep my face blank, neutral, in the holier-than-thou, not smiling, not frowning, deliberately aloof expression we all wear here at the coven.

It’s better this way. Better never to show a weakness. Better never to let the witch you pass in the hall see you’re having a bad day or a good one, to never let a crack show.

Back in my room in the long hall of dormitories, I lunge for my knapsack where it’s tucked into the back corner of my closet.

The bag is charmed with a spell Seren and I cooked up together. A variation on a standard expansion charm that also allows for immediate recall. Imbued with Seren’s seeking powers, all I have to do is put my hand inside and call to mind the item I want to retrieve, and there it is.

I’ve carried this bag with me for almost a decade, patching it up when the seams get worn and watching it get slowly more tattered over time, but there’s no way I could ever make myself replace it.

There’s no way I could recast the spell on a new bag all by myself. Even if I could, the thought of losing this small piece of my sister’s magick makes me feel sick.

I grab clothes and toiletries and books, anything I might need for my trip. There’s really no rhyme or reason to it, and while in some distant corner of my mind I’m aware this is a truly absurd amount to pack for what I’m still telling myself is ashorttrip to clear my mind, I can’t make myself stop or slow down.

At least until a faint knock from behind me startles me mid-packing, my hand freezing in the air.

Marianne stands in my doorway, watching. “What are you doing?”

A witch I’ve known since the day we both started training at the coven when we were six years old. A witch on her own track toward Ascension, specializing in charms and sorcery, with a fierce, fiery control of her magick that makes her a formidable presence even when she’s not casting.

It’s impossible not to look guilty as I shove the dress I’m holding into my bag and turn to face her.

“Just… going on an outing.”

“With half the stuff in your room?” Her eyes trace the empty shelves, the pile of rumpled clothes on my bed.

“I… I just…”