Chasing Magic (46 page)

It didn’t matter. Terrible did object, period. So unless she could change his mind somehow … yeah, she wouldn’t be seeing much of Lex anymore.

But she’d thought that before, hadn’t she? He kept
popping up in her life, and when it wasn’t him it was Blue, and none of it felt like something she wanted to think of just then. Not when Terrible was finally up and out of bed and he was picking her up in a few minutes, and not when she was hoping to get him back
into
bed the second they got home.

And not when Elder Griffin was walking across the library. She didn’t want to watch him but couldn’t help herself, couldn’t help the wave of sadness that washed over her when she did. If only he could forgive her; if only she’d never told him. If only he was a different sort of person, not one so … so fucking ethical, or honorable, or whatever.

But then if he was, he never would have thought she was a good person to begin with, would he?

His gaze fell on her; he stiffened and gave her a curt nod. “Good morrow, Cesaria.”

“Good morrow, sir. I— How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” He hesitated. “Very busy, I’m afraid. I must get to work.”

And he was gone, crossing the room at a speed just over his usual gait, not looking back at her as he went.

She guessed he didn’t need to. He’d seen her; he saw her clearly enough now.

That—that kind of seeing, that kind of clarity—was something that would never go away, she knew. Like with Terrible. She’d seen him one way for so long, and then slowly she’d seen him as he really was. Only in her case Elder Griffin wasn’t realizing that beneath the surface she was perfect. He was realizing she was worthless. And he’d never be able to see anything else, at least so she figured. How could he ever forgive her?

How could anyone, though, really.

The walls of the Church library, usually so comforting, seemed to close in around her. Time to go, anyway. She cleared the browsing history on the computer and
shut it down, grabbed her bag, and headed for the front doors. Headed past Elder Griffin’s office. The door was closed. Yeah.

But the Chevelle waited for her in the parking lot, Terrible in the driver’s seat and a couple of boxes in the backseat. The last few boxes of her stuff. Well, not the last of her stuff, because some of it was staying in her apartment, but the last few boxes of stuff she wanted to have with her and handy all the time.

The last few boxes of stuff she was moving into Terrible’s place.

She couldn’t take everything; as she’d told him before, she needed to keep her address, keep enough stuff there that if the Church checked on her it would look as if she lived there. She’d have to check on it regularly, going to collect her mail—not that she ever got much—and to dust, and to refresh the wards on the door, and all that other shit she’d need to do.

It would be extra work, yeah. But it was worth it. It was totally worth it, and she was ready.

She hopped into the car and leaned over to kiss him, his face still bruised Technicolor and his body still padded with bandages but alive and smiling at her.

“Hey, Chess. You right? Ready to go?”

Was she? Fear still hummed through her veins, fear and the uncertainty of where they went next, of how long he’d want her in his apartment, of how well she was going to handle it all. She was still who she was, after all. A junkie, a liar, someone who didn’t know how to have a relationship, someone who really didn’t deserve whatever happiness she managed to find. Someone terrified she’d do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, terrified that she was going to fuck this up like she did everything else.

Hell, she’d managed to ruin her relationship with Elder Griffin, of all people, the man who’d approved of
her, helped her, liked her, since the day they’d met when she was in training. The man who’d always been on her side.

But she’d started to realize it was impossible not to be scared, that Terrible was, too. That maybe in that, at least, she was normal.

And they were going to figure it out together, and that was what mattered.

So she took his hand. “Yeah, right up,” she said. “Let’s go.”

To the doctors, nurses, and surgical staff

at Lister Hospital Stevenage, without whom

I would literally no longer be alive

B
Y
S
TACIA
K
ANE

Unholy Ghosts

Unholy Magic

City of Ghosts

Sacrificial Magic

Chasing Magic