He nods, his expression serious. “I’m fine, my lady. Just... concerned about you.”

I give him a small smile, touched by his concern. “I’ll be okay, Alistair. I'll figure it out.”

22

Locked Out

Morgana

After school, exhaustion weighs heavily on me, but my mind is occupied with thoughts of Alistair. His presence, his touch, and the bond we share now consume my every thought. We start walking back toward the portal behind the pawn shop alley. I want to touch him, to hold him, to be near him. He keeps looking at me, and every time I try to walk closer, he seems to notice. But I don’t want to overstep; this is still very new. I keep opening and closing my palms, feeling like there’s a piece missing inside me, and he’s the one who can fill it.

As my hand swings past him for the third time, he swiftly grabs hold of it, gripping tightly. I let out a sigh of relief, happy that my actions are acceptable. I try to hide my smile, but it’s not very successful.

“Is someone blushing?” he teases.

“You’re imagining things,” I retort, a playful edge to my voice. As we turn down the alleyway, Alistair stops, concern etched across his face. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat.

“I’m not sure. The magic for the portal isn’t here. I don’t know why.”

That’s not a good sign. “We shouldn’t linger then. If someone has closed off the portal, we need to find another way home.”

“If we head to the cemetery, we’ll be walking for a while, and it might be closed as well,” he replies, his brow furrowed.

“What’s your suggestion?” I ask, feeling a growing unease.

“Call Sierra. They have a big family; I’m sure they might have some room for us.”

“What do we say about our impromptu visit?”

“We missed our bus home?” he suggests with a shrug.

Sierra was kind enough to answer the phone right away and invite us over, as her parents were away with her younger brother. I was surprised when we arrived at a manor-like home, and she guided us up to her room. “Morgana, you can stay in here if you want. I’ll stay in Mom and Dad’s room, and Alistair, my brother’s room is free.” It’s late already, and we should probably go to sleep, but I’m almost ready to go for a run.

“You smell funny,” Sierra says, blinking a few times and giggling as she guides me to her room. I don’t comment on the smell observation; I don’t doubt it. As she opens the door, I’m met by an explosion of color and light.

Sierra’s room is a kaleidoscope of pinks and rainbows, a shrine to all things flower power. The walls are covered in posters of vibrant flowers, peace signs, and inspirational quotes. The ceiling is dotted with glow-in-the-dark star stickers, and fairy lights twinkle from the bookshelves, illuminating her extensive collection of plush toys and trinkets. Her bedspread is a patchwork of bright colors, and the floor is strewn with fluffy rugs in every shade imaginable. It’s the complete opposite of my dark and minimalist style, yet for some reason, I feel really comfortable in her space.

“You know, I haven’t had anyone sleep over since Annabelle and I were friends,” she says, her tone almost nostalgic.

“What?” I question, surprised by the fact.

“Yeah, in first grade we were friends, but by third grade… not so much.” She purses her lips, clearly wanting to say something more.

“Spit it out,” I sigh.

Excitedly, she responds, “Can I ask you guys questions? Like, I’ve held them in for days.”

I exchange a glance with Alistair, then look back at Sierra, her eager eyes reflecting the fairy lights. “Sure.” She smiles ear to ear and drags me into her room. Alistair remains leaning against the threshold until Sierra points to the computer chair in her room. With the two of us on her bed and Alistair sitting in her pink chair, she claps her hands together.

“Okay, I need to know about this dynamic. Like I get the whole thing about Morgana being Alistair’s master and stuff. What does that really mean though?” I look over to Alistair, knowing the dynamic has changed only a day ago, but its not something we went to instantly start talking about. He looks ready to respond so I nod.

“Lucifer is a fallen angel, and all demons are weighted against angels. We are their willing servants, but dedicated servants are a bit different. Since Morgana is half-angel, and I’m her dedicated pet, I genuinely can’t resist her commands. However, that seems to have changed since she lost her powers.”

“Did you just say ‘pet’?” Sierra confirms, “Like a dog?” He shrugs, suggesting that the answer is yes.

“And that’s normal for you guys?”

This time I respond, “It was.” Sierra looks between Alistair and I.