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He jammed his feet into trainers and grabbed his coat. He yanked the front door open. Tried to. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ It stuck fast, so the only thing he succeeded in yanking was his wrist. He checked the lock – yes, he’d unlocked it – and tried again, a little more gently. Still stuck fast. It wasn’t an old door, and it wasn’t wood so couldn’t have swollen in the weather… and it had worked fine last night when he slammed it shut. Harder than he should have, but not hard enough to do any damage he could think of that would cause it to jam.

Getting more annoyed, he stalked through the hall only to have the living room door slam on him. He glowered at it, and gingerly reached for the handle. It didn’t shock him, but it didn’t release him from his newly enforced prison.

‘I am so not in the mood for this!’ He rattled the door. ‘Let me out!’

The door stayed stuck. If anything, it seemed a little more solid.

‘Let me the hell out of here!’

Losing his temper completely, he kicked and punched at the door – fists and toes slamming into it, not caring about the damage he might do or the pain he was causing himself. He should have regretted it, but part of him welcomed the pain – at least it was something to feel as it cut through the misery and numbness that had been choking him. He thumped the door a couple more times for good measure – his eyes, nose and throat burning with choking tears. More bloody tears. Shameful because he didn’t feel like he should cry – because men didn’t, and also because it was all his own doing. He deserved the pain. He’d lied to the woman he loved – hurting her too. It didn’t matter that he’d tried and the magic had stopped him, because he could have – should have – tried harder. He should have protected her better.

Seeing her that day – locked in a spell she couldn’t have even hoped to understand – had scared him. He’d known she did something to his magic – but he hadn’t even begun to imagine that she might be gifted herself.

Seeing her go pale and collapse under Rayenne’s touch had turned his blood to ice. He’d guessed – known – in that moment that he’d lost her. That he deserved to lose her.

He’d tried to explain – couldn’t help but try – but it was pointless. She had every right to ignore him. To let the one call he’d made in a moment of weakness to go straight to her voicemail. He hadn’t cried when he’d heard her voice – cooly professional – telling him to leave a message. He hadn’t bothered with one. He didn’t deserve even that much space in her life.

The top drawer on the unit by the front door made a strange noise, then popped open. Jamie stared at it – and the tiny puff of glitter – dully.

‘Just piss off already. I’m not interested in any of it. If it hadn’t been for your bloody meddling, Amrita might not be hating me right now.’

The drawer opened itself a little more.

‘What good is magic if it does this to people? You should have let me tell her. You should have left her alone. You should have left me alone. In fact, you can bloody well leave me alone for good. I want no part of it!’ He yelled the words at whoever – whatever – was listening. ‘Do you hear me? I’m not one of yours any more! I’m done. Take it away. All of it. I’m done.’

He was ignored. An invisible hand yanked the drawer out and upended it, scattering and skittering the contents across the floor as pale pink petals drifted lazily in the air like confetti. He didn’t know where they’d come from, but when they landed – naturally in an almost perfect heart, because magic was a sick bastard at times – it was around a single golden earring. One he’d meant to return. Amrita had lost it the last time she’d been there, when they had been… He couldn’t think about – about what he’d lost – without wanting to cry again.

Moving slowly, because every step hurt, he stooped to gather up the tiny treasure… only to find it stuck to the floor.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’

No answer, of course. When it wanted to make itself known, magic could be an annoying, nagging pain in the arse. But when he wanted a response? Silence.

He tried again to pick up the earring and his fingers slipped and caught on the petals. When he breathed in, he inhaled the scent of cherry blossom and was transported back to that perfect day at the inn, happy, laughing and loving… before everything had gone so painfully wrong. The memory hit hard – a vicious blow to his chest that loosened the tears he’d been bottling up.

They raged down his cheeks in a torrent of angry grief.

He really would give anything to undo the hurt he’d caused and have her back. Including his gift. It had already cost him the person he thought might be the love of his life. If that was the price, then it wasn’t even close to worth it.

12

Amrita stabbed the plastic a few times – then a couple more for good measure – before throwing the pot into the microwave and slamming the door shut. She rarely bothered with microwave meals, but she hadn’t been organised enough to come up with anything else, and it had been loitering at the back of the freezer. And it seemed easier than working out what she wanted from where to order in.

Besides, microwave meals were normal. And normal was important. It was steady and grounded and safe.

She tugged her massive cardigan more tightly around herself – a small attempt at comfort as she hadn’t really felt warm since… well, since she’d walked away from Jamie. She stared glumly at the plate as it rotated.

She went and sat on the couch while she waited for the microwave to ping. She’d barely started scrolling through her streaming services looking for something mundanely normal to watch before it did. Great. Not only could she not pick a nice, normal guy who lived in a nice, normal town, but apparently she couldn’t even set a microwave now.

She froze when she saw what was sitting on her kitchen counter, near the still spinning microwave, nausea and fear churning in her stomach.

‘Hi-hi!’ A white-blonde magpie whistled and clicked happily, then beeped like the microwave.

‘Lunar.’ Amrita forced the name out between scared, gritted teeth.

The bird bounced back and forth, spreading her wings, apparently excited. Evil spirits didn’t get excited just because you remembered their name, did they? She had no idea, but it didn’t seem like a particularly demonic thing to mimic a kitchen appliance. Then again, maybe she was dreaming…

‘Hi-hi?’