Page 75 of Sigils & Spells

“I need to go.” I was on my feet, unsure of anything. Was I dressed? Did I know where my shoes were?

Why was I in Merle’s apartment?

Oh, right, I was in Merle’s apartment because the confrontation with Ramsey had taken place in the vacant attic apartment.

Groaning, heart sick, I remembered Ramsey chewing on that bossy little fluff ball of a rooster. I hadn’t liked the poof of aggression, but it hadn’t deserved becoming a demon snack.

I pressed my hands over my face, and then to the sides of my head, as I became aware of a pressure headache. It felt like weather was rolling in. Like the pressure of a spring storm and not a continuation of the miserable winter drizzle that had taken over. Then again, I had had that same ache in my head when I had raced up the stairs earlier.

“Pandora, you should rest. I’ll make you tea.” Merle held his hands out as if he wanted to stop me, but wasn’t certain what to do.

Tea? He wasn’t even British, and he seemed to think tea was going to fix everything. I might as well pour it directly into the hole that was eating away at me.

A rumble of thunder shook the building.

I stumbled into the living room. It should have been lit up with the hazy, diffused light of late afternoon, but the incoming storm changed the light. Merle needed more lamps.

“Where’s Ramsey?” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to leave, but I also needed to know what happened.

“On his way back to Chicago, I think.”

“You don’t know?”

Merle shook his head. “I don’t care.”

I sucked in a startled breath. “You don’t care? The man’s your friend and—”

“No.” Merle lifted a hand and brushed away my words. “He was never my friend. He had tracked me down to fix him. All he did was cause problems for the people around me. He hurt you.” Merle’s voice was practically a growl.

“I’m sorry, Pan,” he said slowly. “I didn’t want you to get caught up in the mess that Ramsey had brought to me.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, no, but you had no problems letting me be your research assistant for all of it.”

“Dr. Bronson was supposed to be the one…”

“And who do you think he has had doing all the work? I wasn’t simply some delivery service, Merle. Who made the copies of the documents? Who poured through the scrolls looking for the requested pieces of information? I’m the one who directed you away from a Eurocentric demonography and into something older. I was involved, whether you intended it or not.”

“If you knew, why didn’t you say something?”

“If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

Merle made some hemming and hawing noises, not saying anything identifiable. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at my shoes.

It probably wasn’t fair of me to bring that up, but it felt the same. If we had something to share, why hadn’t we?

“I didn’t realize Dr. Bronson wasn’t the one doing the work in the archives. I thought you were simply his assistant. I mean…” He looked out a window.

The wind was tearing through the branches of the nearest tree.

“I guess I hadn’t really looked up from solving one question to see the answers to others that danced around me. I should have realized you were not simply a delivery service for the Archives. I have to keep secrets in my line of work. I guess I got too used to keeping everything a secret. Even my feelings.”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Secrets. Isn’t that the point of living in Duchamp? All the secrets are out in the open to the point everyone just ignores them and goes about their business. Here’s a secret for you Dr. Armitage, I’ve been in love with you pretty much since I’ve met you. But you don’t see me. Sleeping with Darren was stupid. I was feeling sorry for myself. You wouldn’t even talk to me that night. But it was my mistake, and I own it. If you can’t, aren’t willing to forgive me of past mistakes, then I’m sorry I’ve wasted my time.”

I stared at him, and he matched my hard gaze. He didn’t say anything. The gaping hole in my soul grew larger.

Energy crackled between us, or maybe that was the storm finally breaking. Lightning flashed.

I saw the god in his face, the one he had channeled. His cheek bones were harsh and sharp, horns curled back from his brow. There was a flicker of wings, like a reverse shadow behind him. And then it was just Merle again.

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