Page 68 of Rewitched

“We’re adding to the wonderful experience of getting lost in Lunar. It’s supposed to make you feel something. It’s supposed to take you somewhere when you step inside. They’re supposed to feel—”

“Blackthorn, this is your last warning.”

“But if you’ll just think about—”

“Enough!” he roared, adjusting the cuffs of his stretched shirt. “I don’t know who you think you are today, Belle, but I would like to remind you that I am your boss, and you need to learn to shut up when I tell you to.”

The room fell silent. Belle pressed her lips together firmly. Hot tears prickled at her eyelids, threatening to show themselves in front of everybody. She picked at a cuticle mercilessly to distract herself and avoided glancing at Monica and Jim, who were both determinedly trying to catch her eye for some silent reassurance.

After wasting their precious time for almost an hour, Christopher left the room with a sniff and a “Back to it.” He flipped open a pack of cigarettes as he shoved open the front door.

Belle speed-walked to the toilet before she finally let herself buckle. She angry-cried into her sleeve, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes to try and curb the onslaught. She’d be okay. Just a quick meltdown. Then she’d be fine.

She leaned her head on the toilet roll and let out a tiny exhausted roar of frustration. At Christopher, of course, but also at herself, her fight with Ari, this entirely terrible day. She was just so tired, and she didn’t know how to cope with everything going wrong around her, whether magical or mundane. A shiver travelled down her back, fingertips tingling from picking at them insistently during the meeting.

There was a knock on the door.

“Mon, I need a minute. I’ll be out in a sec.”

She’d steal back her moment of solitude when she got home. Except she wouldn’t be home for hours because she was heading straight to Quill Lane for Clairvoyancy study. Relentless. She wiped hastily at inevitable mascara trails, although they were probably the same colour as the dark half moons under her eyes, anyway.

“What happened?” Rune was sitting on the sink when she emerged. He sprang to his feet and came closer when she looked up, revealing tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. She noticed him flare, as though to control himself.

Belle was too tired to wonder why on earth Rune was in the toilets at work. She didn’t even have a snarky comment to offer about it. She sighed with acceptance that, of course, a warlock watchman was hanging out in the loo.

“What are you doing here?” she asked emotionlessly. Despite herself, she was pleased to see him.

“I told you I was upgrading the connection after what happened to your mother, keeping a closer eye. I knew something wasn’t right.”

Belle nodded with flat acceptance. She rubbed at her damp face.

“Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

“It’s not a magic thing.”

“Doesn’t matter. What is it?”

“I’ve made a mess. Of literally everything.”

“You’re doing just fine.” He reached out and wiped a tear from her wet cheek with his thumb. Both of them froze, taken aback by the gesture. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry. Don’t know why I did that.”

Belle shook it off. “It’s my arse of a boss. He’s generally quite awful.”

Rune flared another breath. “This is who made you cry?”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter. It’s a regular occurrence.”

“What did he say?”

“The usual. He hates everything that Lunar is supposed to be. Despises everything that would add to the magic of it. Thinks I’m an idiot but also happens to call on me for anything and everything that ever needs doing to cover his own back. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who disrespects women like he does, but he seems to hold a particularly special place in his heart for me. Anyway, do you need something? I’ve got a lot to do before I can go back to Arty’s place.” She couldn’t have sounded more done with everything, resigned to being miserable for the rest of time.

“Where is he?”

“Arty?”

“Your boss. The guy who made you cry. Where is he?”