Page 42 of Demon and the Raven

She nodded and got closer, pressing her head under my chin. “Maybe.”

No maybe about it. “You have no choice but to spend a lot of time getting sage into every nook and cranny of this house if you want it to feel alive again in here.”

“Fine,” she agreed, sounding uncertain.

“You have to have faith, though, in the use of the sage,” I pointed out.

“I can use a sage bundle,” she snapped, lifting her head to meet my gaze. “I do that all the time for people who come in the house.”

But waving it around without giving directions to whatever was in the house did nothing. People always forgot that intention was the most important part of cleansing and magic on a whole.

“And I know I should have treated you the same way I did Cordelia and the others and added you to my coven,” she continued, taking a step back, no longer scared and cowering, annoyed now. “I mean, we’re all doing what we can to make a living, am I right?”

I squinted at her.

“Oh, come on. You’re saying there’s more to you than that, Xan?” she asked, so smugly, patronizing me, the scoff and the added eye roll telling me what she really thought of magic. “Give me a break. No one is buying your witch-of-the-woods bullshit. You keep up that persona to sell the crap you make at the festivals.”

“Do you want the house cleansed? It’s your choice,” I said coldly.

“Why? Are you offering?”

“Yes,” I replied, irritated that I couldn’t just tell her to go to hell. I should walk out, but there was so much rotting energy in the house, I couldn’t simply leave. Unless she said no.

“Then yes. I don’t want to be jumping at shadows. Not in my own home. So please, clear it all out,” she said with a wave of her hand.

I had the urge to smack her.

“And listen, Xan, I would actually love to carry your stuff in my shop.”

“You mean my crap?”

“Do me a favor and pull the stick out of your ass, will you? In truth, I see how fast your jam, tea, and other things you make during the festival sell out and—shit,” she gasped as the first of my flames returned to my hand.

“Go on,” I said snidely, which was terrible of me, but both she and Cordelia gave witchcraft a bad name.

“What the hell, Xander…is that fire in your hand?” she asked breathlessly.

Opening my mouth to answer, I was too late. She passed out cold. Fortunately for me, she was not a big person, because I only had the one arm to clutch her with.

“Steady,” I bid my flame, which kept it where it was, and closed my hand. It remained floating in the air, illuminating all the corners of the room.

I carried Lynette to a love seat and laid her down. I would have tucked a throw around her, but it was the middle of summer. Even with the amount of air I was going to have to blow through her house, she wasn’t about to get cold.

When Lorne knocked on the front door, I darted over, unlocked the dead bolt, and let him in, smiling as he strode by.

“What happened to her?” he asked, standing over the collapsed woman.

“She saw the fire in my hand.”

“Ah.”

I shrugged.

“And? Anything spooky in here?”

“I have a theory.”

“G’head.”