“Are you all right?”
Numbly, I turned away and walked toward the church entrance. “The potion must be disposed of. I have to clean up.”
“I can help.” As if on cue, her phone buzzed, and her shoulders dropped when she looked at it. “It's Lydia.”
I glanced back at her. I’d destroyed the life of the man I would have sacrificed everything for. “You should go home. This is my mess. I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, but if you need me, just call.”
“Thanks, Kitty.”
I took the latch and pulled, slipping inside, allowing the door shut behind me. Leaning against its cool wood, I pressed my hands to my face, releasing a sob that echoed into the emptiness.
I sat in the chapel's pew staring at the light shifting in through the stained-glass windows. The rays broke apart through every crack, dividing out amongst the different colors. The rays were delicate, and the briefest interruption sent it scattering in various directions. Had I cast my light aside? Was I doomed to walk in darkness? Perhaps I was being punished for delving into witchcraft and going against the light.
I’d spent the last hour getting rid of the potion and cleaning up evidence of my foolish efforts. As if to defy my dark thoughts, Duchess sat next to me on the pew, tail swishing back and forth. She pawed my leg, then nestled her head on my lap as if to comfort me. Despite myself, I dropped my hand onto her and pictured what it might be like to feel her velvety fur under my fingers. She nuzzled closer and purred.
The church door opened, and I didn’t move to check who it was. Probably Pastor Collins. I braced myself for a lecture as to why I wasn’t working.
Brexton slipped into the pew next to me. He said nothing, only sat there watching the light break apart with me.
“I’m sorry about how I acted at Collins's place,” I whispered in a soft voice. “For coming in and being all accusing without knowing anything.”
“Do you know what I love about these stained-glass windows? How the light divides into pieces, revealing every beautiful color.” Brexton’s head tilted in consideration. “So many people try to hide things that bring them shame in the eyes of others. To be honest, it was a relief to tell someone about the dragon shifter part of me.”
“But your kind aren’t illegal. They aren’t even unpopular.” My strokes on Duchess paused as realization struck. “Pastor Collins made you swear not to reveal it, didn’t he?”
“Dragon shifters are admired worldwide, almost like celebrities, but in the church? Even though they’re accepted, anything that isn’t fae is still… lesser. I already understood that concealing it would be part of the job,” hereplied with an easy smile. “Or at least for working with Collins.”
“You don’t think he’s right about the fae walking in the light and us creatures of the dark?”
“No, I don’t.” He turned to face me. “I hope you know that there are other congregations out there. Other pastors who are very accepting of other beings.”
“And yet, the ancient texts say that my very existence taints fae magic.”
“What do you believe?”
My hand dropped from Duchess’s head as I stared at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Listening to others is important, for sure,” he said. “But in the end, you are the one who has to live with yourself. You alone can determine what Mary believes.”
The door to the church creaked open and slammed shut. Collins’s sharp steps marked his approach. He looked down his nose at us with a disapproving glance. “And what are you two doing?”
Brexton gave me a gentle smile. “Mary needs a moment to reflect on the state of her immortal soul.”
“I guess we all require time for that.” Collins sniffed. “But you, Brexton, have work to do.”
Brexton turned to me, apologetic. “I have to go. It was a pleasant talk.”
“Bye.”
As he rose and walked away, my phone vibrated in my pocket. And I tugged it out, hoping it was Frank.
Instead, Lydia’s name appeared on my screen. I steeled myself and opened the chat.
Heard it didn’t go well with your potion. It really was kind of ridiculous to believe you could get the exact art of potion making after all your years of snubbing it. Mom always said there’s a fine line between obsession and possession.
I reread the text three times, my breaths coming fast. Gathering my things, I rose and hurried out of the church.
