Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(7)

I didn’t have time to react or even think as Sebastian grabbed me and pulled me out to the street. He stopped the both of us, pulled me close to him and did this thing with his arm like Batman would do with his cape except he didn’t have a cape.

I saw the world turn to a shimmer around us and then he grabbed me again and pulled me toward Poet’s Walk.

“Stop!” I shouted but he didn’t say anything and kept going, dragging me with him. “Stop right now!” I kinda repeated, still shouting.

He stopped all right and I slammed right into him. And before I could step away, he took my upper arms and hauled me right up against his (very hard) body (yikes). He wasn’t looking at me but over my shoulder.

Then he told me, “We have to go, the glamour won’t last long.” (Er, wha?)

And off we went again.

I didn’t say a word just ran after him all the way up the Walk and into The Gables and right to my rooms where I figured I’d be safe to let him have it.

We both flew into the room, he closed the door and flipped on the light and before he could get out a word or even close the door…

“What the f**k was that about?” I shouted.

I was angry, really angry. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry.

“Mathilda, you know better than that,” he replied and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was pretty angry too which pissed me off more because what did he have to be angry about?

“Know better than what? That woman is beating that boy right now. God only knows –”

He interrupted me impatiently, “A witch never meddles unless she’s invited, never. It’s elementary Wiccan Creed. At the very least, you should know that.”

Ack!

Okay, so, I’d read a lot in the past month (a lot, a lot) and been told a lot (a lot, a lot) about not ever doing magic to others unless I’d been asked. A non-magical person or an innocent must always seek magic before it’s performed. That was Canon Number One in the Magical World.

Fuck.

“So what do you do?” I asked. “Walk away? Watch? The faeries took me there. I couldn’t stand around and do nothing!”

“You don’t have a choice,” he stated, like it was as simple as that.

“Well that sucks!” I told him. “That really sucks.”

And then I let it all hang out, about the café and Wesley and velvet couches and expensive tile (though didn’t get into Aidan, the plumber) and boring coven meetings and faeries never letting me sleep and trees talking to me and now my wand had exploded and that little boy was being beaten by his Mom and I didn’t even want to think about that poor, cute puppy. Then I started talking about being homesick (ack! where did that come from?) and my nightmares of never entering another Saks Fifth Avenue for as long as I live and how aggravating that I can’t find a MAC counter within a fifty mile radius and no matter how cool, TopShop… just… does not… cut it (I mean, we all aren’t Kate Moss and can’t pull off that rock ‘n’ roll waif look). Then I finished with…

“What’s the point of being SuperWitch if I have to flit around making brownies and mochaccinos and wait for people to ask me for help? That’s just stupid. Batman doesn’t wait for people to ask for help! What do I do, get a big red phone and hope it rings?”

He was quiet through my tirade and, after, he studied me for a bit and then said, “You look exhausted.”

Ack!

“Great, that helps a lot, Sebastian. Thanks. I am exhausted. No f**king duh.”

I was too mad to be any good with a comeback.

He looked impatient. “You’re doing too much with the café. You should be focusing on The Craft. I’ll talk with Mavis.”

“Good! While you’re at it tell her I’ll take the brownies and mochaccinos over faeries guiding me to abused children I can’t help and if she says no then I’m just going to go home because having to wait to be asked to fulfill The Prophesy of The Chosen One really sucks.”

And then, unfortunately, I burst out crying.

Fuckity, f**k, f**k.

Like all men faced with intense, unheralded female emotion, he just stood there staring at me. Brooding, sexy Sebastian all of a sudden faced with a crying woman became impatient (or more impatient) and uncomfortable.

Fucking men, they have no idea how to deal.

Then he came up, wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me (which, I have to admit, was kinda nice). Then he walked me to the couch and sat down with me. And I didn’t care if he was uncomfortable, I just sat next to him and pushed in close and cried and cried and cried.

Somewhere in the middle of crying and/or snuffling, I fell asleep and when I woke up awhile ago, Sebastian was gone, morning had broken, my hand hurt and I felt like hell.

And I miss home, I miss my friends, I miss Oreo Double Stuff cookies and Banana Republic and…

I lost my f**king wand and I have the strange feeling that the tree is mad at me.

30 November

(Have plan.)

Had long talk with Mavis and she explained Life of Witch containing:

a) Frustration (want to do good deeds, people scared of you);

b) Frustration (hunted, hiding, protected);

c) Frustration (myths o’ Satan worship, dark lore).

“Silly really,” Mavis said (understatement).