I bid them goodnight with a friendly salute and stepped outside. I lit a cigarette as soon as I hit the damp night air and realized from the floating orange glow beside the wall that I wasn't the only one with that idea. I couldn't tell for sure who it was, but I had a feeling it was Angela, the witch. Strolling closer, I saw the glint of silver from the studs of her leather jacket. "A witch, huh? And with an intense aversion for all things Sauvageau. You must have a story. Or you wouldn't be hanging around our sorry asses."

She blew a stream of smoke out of the side of her practiced mouth. "We've all got a story," she said. "But that's gonna take another cigarette, and I'm all out."

She flicked the ashes from the tiny butt she had left, took a final pull, and then threw it into a puddle. I had one of mine lit and ready for her before the flame of the other one dimmed out.

"Thanks," she said after another drag. "It was just me and my mother for a while. Then she fell in love with my stepfather. A fairy. Some outspoken Modifier from Pyxis who escaped before his arrest. They found him, though. My mother wasn't home. But I was, and so was my baby half-sister.

"I loved that kid. I pretended she was mine and took her everywhere. She had my mother's red hair and her father's mark. After they slit his throat right before my eyes, they surrounded my sister's crib. Said she was an 'abomination.' And they killed her too.

"I squirmed away before it was my turn. I cast a spell over the house, locking the doors. Then I lit the place on fire. When my mother came back, she was devastated, but she believed me, without question. And a few days later, they came for us, and this time we were ready.

"They should have brought their whole damn army because my mother was one nasty witch when you crossed her the wrong way. There were dead Gray Coats bleeding out on our lawn and the Crown Champions? We drowned the fuckers, every last one of them . . . in a jar of black cat piss.

"We disappeared after that. My mother, unfortunately, went mad and made herself a cocktail, one that she knew she wouldn't. . .

"Are you all right, kid?" she suddenly said, interrupting the end of her story. "You look . . . involved."

I shuddered off the thought that had me lost. "No. I mean . . . yes," I admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "It was a dream I had. You lived through what apparently is my worst fear." 

"Which part? Discovery or loss?"

I threw my cigarette butt into the puddle and shrugged. Then I stuck my hands in my pockets and watched the fire dim out again.

"Both," she surmised. "Which means there's a girl."

"Was," I corrected.

"I can sense your angst. She must be human. Hasn't a clue, right?"

I nodded and looked down at my shoes. I felt like the grime beneath them for all I had put Skylar through already.

"Try not to be so hard on yourself," Angela said when I was bracing myself for some reproach. "We're all pretty fucked up when it comes to relationships. Hard to say which is more toxic: the secrets, the fear, or the enemy.  So what did you do this time?"

I chuckled and shook my head as I tallied up my errors, not even sure I should get into it. But the night, overall, had gone pretty well. So for once I had the urge to unload more of the truth onto someone who might understand. "After the nightmare, I told her to leave. She was naked and bleeding. And it was three in the morning! Does it get much worse than that?"

"Oh, it could definitely be worse. Did you smack her around?"

"No, never! She fell and hit her head when I freaked out. What do you take me for? That fight with Andromeda was an unusual situation! I never wanted to. . ."

"Relax. I'm just asking some questions so I can give you my prognosis. It's what I do for a living. I'm a psychic." She pulled out her card from her jacket and handed it to me with two fingers like a pro. As I glanced at the location—Provincetown, Massachusetts—I got the next intrusive question. "So did you shag her sister or her best friend?"

"No."

"Kill her dog?"

"Nope."

"Kick the shit out of her father?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'd want to."

"Shout the wrong name?"

"No again."

"Then you should be all right, kid. Just apologize. It'll get you further than you think. Most of the assholes in our lives don't bother. Then explain as vaguely as you can all that dark past shit and hope she never asks too many questions."

I had to laugh. It was the most succinct and candid advice I had ever received about women. "You are one unique lady, Angela."

"Yeah, I'm no fucking fairy princess."

"Glad to hear. I've had just about enough of those for one lifetime." At that moment, Van Orden's Pinto grunted to life, loud enough to turn all the heads outside in his direction. "I should go. That's my ride."

"All right. Take care, Scott. I mean that. We need you at your best. And if there's anything you ever need, call me, anytime."

I nodded in acceptance, thanks, and as a goodbye. What she said was such a relief to hear. Andromeda didn't get a chance to kill me, but I had been acting like she had. For seven years I had been dead inside. Now that I had a few others looking out for me and me for them, I realized things could be different. Maybe Van Orden was right. I could have my life back, and a little bit of freedom to be young and live a little. To make mistakes. Try new things. Fall in love. Do all those gutsy things that humans take for granted. And there was only one person in the universe I wanted to do all those things with.

I just hoped it wasn't too late.

~~~

The Eagles. Witchy Woman (1976).

https://youtu.be/fCcEjZQQNjo