This snippet takes place between In the Ever Afterlife and A Mile With Sorrow.

In my revised canon, Nick was the fellow who released Ku'Sox. Near the end of "In the Ever Afterlife," Nick transferred Ku'Sox's curse to Rachel and banished her to the Ever After in his place. Rachel and Al went to Dalliance and Rachel created the tulpa of the desert, and she spent three days recovering. (Both Rachel and Evie believed Ash was killed by Ku'Sox, and Evie is still in mourning.) When Rachel woke up, she and Al had a discussion that ended with Rachel trying to kill Al by drawing a line through him. After Newt stopped her, Rachel fought Ku'Sox, was injured, and faked her death with help from Pierce and Trent.

So why would she do that? Because Rachel is meeting up with Al for the first time since this event in my current story, I wanted to see what caused the misunderstanding.

What happened that night

Are you certain this is normal? Al glanced at the sleeping Rachel again, hand pressed tightly to his mirror.

She's fine. Your concern for her is adorable. Stop pestering me or I'll give you both something to be concerned about.

Al grumbled, hanging up on Newt before she caught more than a whiff of his irritation. New had come by twice on her own, predicting that Rachel would awaken any time. Her last visit had been sixteen hours before. Al was a patient demon, but this uncertainty was driving him a little over the edge.

A clink drew his attention to the worktable, where Evie had sat and stirred silently for the past three days, joining him in his vigil. She'd made a fuss about staying, and she posed no danger to Rachel, so he'd allowed it. Her back was to him at the moment, so he wandered over to peer over her shoulder. Though he made no attempt to hide his steps, she still started when his breath shifted her hair. "They're done," she said, voice dull. She held up the flask of amber liquid for his inspection.

"Hmm." He inhaled, then shook the flask a little, using the slow-rising bubbles to evaluate the viscosity. Damn. It was perfect. He'd been hoping for a chance to smack someone. On the other hand, Evie's depression had sucked all the fun out of tormenting her. She just took it, even when he forced line energy into her synapses to expand her spindling abilities the quick and cruel way, as if she thought she deserved it. And now that Rachel was close to consciousness...he hoped...it wouldn't do to have Rachel wake up and immediately spring to the woman's defense. "Tolerable, for your first try," he said.

Evie's face showed little expression, not even a hint of the pride she once couldn't hide. "Anything else you want?"

The deception was weighing on him...but only a little. It had seemed like such a fun idea at the time! But now that he'd seen the depth of the witch's emotion—and the depth of Ash's fury—he'd had second thoughts. Perhaps he'd miscalculated this time. He'd only meant to show Ash that her loyalty was false. Only to prove that it really wasn't. Oops. Stupid woman. Ash would probably kill her, which seemed like such a waste.

He grabbed a book at random, flipping through it to find something tedious he couldn't be bothered to stir himself. For all he knew, the woman appreciated having a distraction. And he'd had to ward the place to keep his own bloody familiar out. That damned witch couldn't just accept Rachel had traded up. At the sight of her nearly lifeless body, Pierce had forgotten his anger at her betrayal and spent hours pestering and pleading with her to awaken, then badgering Al to let him take her to reality to recover. It was enough to turn even a demon's iron stomach. A hospital? As if Al would let a vulnerable Rachel out of his sight for even an instant.

He picked a curse for delving into a summoner's worst fear, the better to play with them on arrival—he'd been running low on those, and it was tricky as anything. Evie read through the instructions, showing not even a hint of distaste. "You're out of dried ghost plants," was all she had to say.

Al cursed. Rachel had a marvelous garden, which Al had happily raided on a regular basis (much to the impotent fury of Jenks), but he'd quite forgotten to stock up on essentials the last few times he'd dropped her off from lessons. And now she was banished from reality! Alas. No more freebies.

Al glared at the sleeping figure. How could she have been so clumsy as to let a human steal her freedom? At last the human had been disposed of. If word ever got out that Al's own familiar had helped Nick escape to release Ku'Sox, he might be slapped with the new Extraordinary Lack of Foresight charge that the Collective had just voted into law mere days ago. On the other hand, the long smutty years spent grooming the human were now wasted, and it always put him in a foul mood whenever the quarry eluded capture. Damn Pierce, anyway. Perhaps it was time to sell the fool? Tempting, but no. Rachel would be furious, and it would only hurt his reputation if his dangerous ex-Coven witch managed to actually damage someone. No, he was stuck with Pierce until the witch finally did something to break their deal.

He sighed and flipped pages, while Evie waited with the patience of one who really hadn't a single fuck left to give. Honestly. She was a demon woman, and she sat there listless and lifeless as a common familiar! Irritated and determined to get a rise out of her, he handed her a curse for transferring a demon's genetic essence to a black pearl, intended to be swallowed by a witch to force her to conceive. Not that he'd used that one in over a thousand years, but it would require a certain sticky contribution from him that would surely make Evie gag.

Whatever Evie had been about to say was lost when Rachel made a soft sigh. Al was instantly alert, and Evie rose from her chair to watch.

Rachel raised herself on an elbow and looked around the room, eyes still half-lidded. "Woah," she said. "Everything's spinning."

Irritation forgotten in a wash of relief, Al moved to her side. "Go," he said to Evie, not turning around.

"You're OK?" Evie asked Rachel, ignoring him.

"She's fine. I let you stay so you could see her wake up. You're both fine. Now get out of here before I flay you."

Evie shrugged, unmoved by his threat, and said, "Glad you're back, Rachel. I'll be in the conservatory if anyone needs me." Rachel's eyes followed Evie as she stepped onto the traveling glyph and vanished, her sympathy for the older woman clear. Al smiled, satisfied that he'd had the foresight to ensure Evie had been here, clearly unharmed, when Rachel awoke. Rachel's concern for others was matched only by her ability to get herself into deadly trouble, and now she could dismiss Evie from her mind.

Rachel had put some distance between them, wrapping the wool blanket around herself even though Al had kept the room nice and toasty for her recovery. She looked quite green, and Al suddenly wished he'd stirred a simple curse for nausea. Celffnah had always awoken from tulpa creation ravenously hungry and prodigiously horny. Rachel, on the other hand, simply looked hungover. "How long was I out?"

"Three days, my itchy witch." He smiled at her consternation. "You couldn't just make a simple tulpa. No, you had to go and fill the entire bloody Collective."

Rachel looked pained. "Three days? No wonder I feel like such crap. Crap spread reeeeally thin on too much toast this time."

Al chuckled. After such a working, and the forced intimacy they'd shared, Al had been worried she'd wake up freaking out at him. Yelling, breaking things...but so far, her marvelous wit, at least, was still intact. "At least you need not worry about your status here. I do believe the Collective is feeling a wee bit intimidated."

"That was...that was something, wasn't it?" Her smile still looked sick. "Uh, has Bis been around? Do Ivy and Jenks know I'm all right?"

"Bis is sleeping, love, but rest assured your friends are healthy...if not exactly happy. Ku'Sox is still free, of course, but you'll be delighted to learn that he has left Cincinnati for warmer climes."

Rachel cursed and tried to stand, sitting again when her legs proved too unsteady. The movement sent a breath of scent Al's way. With the awakening of the new neural pathways, new genes were coming to life, and Rachel's scent had subtly shifted over the last three days. Demoness. Al fought a stir of hunger, and fought it down savagely. The woman was still vulnerable, and he would protect her. Strange, that. His new insight into her soul gave him a huge advantage over her, and yet he was unwilling to use it. A year ago he'd have jumped at the chance to manipulate her, but now...

"I have to get home!" she cried, breaking his thoughts. "I have to stop him!"

"Why? The Ever After is your home, now."

"It is not! I can still be summoned out!"

"Either way, Ku'Sox is not your problem. Or are you even now trying to find a way to twist this entire fuck-up into somehow being your fault?"

Rachel blinked at him with huge, luminous green eyes. Of course she was. "Nick—"

"Nicholas Gregory Sparagamos was caught by Ash, who lost him. If it's anyone's responsibility, it's his." And wouldn't it be a laugh to try to slap Ash with that Extraordinary Lack of Foresight charge?

"He's dead. Nick is dead. The Coven will be useless. And you lot are too chickenshit to take care of him! There's nobody else!"

"Hush, Rachel. At least recover your strength, first. Your friends and family are out of danger. There is time." Rachel opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a quelling hand. "Please. Rest. I have not watched over you for three days just to have you run off in a fit of justice."

Rachel shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. Her eyes avoided his, and he realized she wasn't cold. She was frightened. Of him. Of what he'd seen in her mind. "You've been here the whole time?" she asked, voice soft.

"Yvette Therese Sinclaire was with me," he reassured her. "You were quite safe." He cocked his head, trying to get a better read on her. From experience, he knew her usual response to fear was brash anger, not this quiet huddled uncertainty. "She can assure you that I was a perfect gentleman."

"That's...not what I meant," she said, eyes flicking to his for a moment before falling back to the fire. "Al...what's going to happen now?"

So many different meanings layered into that question. Al decided to treat it with his usual flippance. "Why, you're the newest of the damned! You shall stay here with me! Why, did you think I would turn out my student in her time of crisis? I shall train my two lovely demonesses together." Until Ash showed up, anyway. Rachel would be put out about that. Ah, well. She was simply unused to the games demons played with each other, to add color to the lonely grey of eternity. Perhaps he should at least attempt to protect Evie from Ash's wrath. Otherwise Rachel would just do it herself, and if she damaged Ash, then he'd have to protect Rachel from Evie's wrath, and what a mess that would be...

"Stay here?" His annoyance flared when she looked panicked at the thought. "But I don't have to stay here, I can still be summoned out!"

"Hmm, yes. Although Nick did curse you to be as we all are, bound by the rules of summoning and banished with the sunrise. He does hold a grudge, that one."

"Did." She paused, clearly wondering if she was sad about this...but moved on quickly enough. Good. The rat wasn't remotely worth her pity. "But Ceri knows my name. And Jenks, my mom, and Pierce. Hell, even Ivy could get me out of here for a night."

He didn't reply. The idea of being beholden to others for her lost freedom rankled, and of course she would mourn the sun.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the fire as she sighed. "But you know that's not what I meant. You saw..."

Al suppressed a sigh, too. She wanted to Talk, and would not be deterred. He most certainly did not want to Talk. What had happened in Dalliance had changed everything, and he would have given anything not have seen her so deeply. "I saw what you are," he admitted. "Everything."

She was silent, eyes squeezing closed for a moment as she contemplated what that meant. "And...?"

Al carefully sat down, keeping the fire between them. Her lovely features danced and shimmered in the heat haze. "And what?"

She scowled. "Al, I slept with you. You saw my damned soul. Now you're offering to let me live here. So now what?" Her voice cracked and she continued, louder. "What do you expect from me? Do you think I'm going to be your little demon sweetheart? Mates or whatever?"

Ah, now there was her bluster. She was right to be wary of him now. He wanted to smile, but his heart was suddenly beating a little too quickly at her rejection of the idea. He didn't want her to fear him, not any longer. "Rachel. Please, stop jumping to conclusions. I—" He stopped, unable to continue. The demon woman in her would kill him for showing any weakness...but the Rachel in her would only accept him if he could make himself vulnerable. Impossible woman!

"You what? Why didn't I see into you when you were in there?" she demanded.

"See my soul? That's not how it works, Itchy Witch. Besides...you know my little black soul well enough already, do you not...?"

She yanked on the blanket again, fuming. "So you saw..."

"I saw how you see me, yes," he said, voice quiet, giving in to her unasked question. "It's nothing I didn't expect, but...no, it was not flattering. It shamed me, Rachel, to see how high a bar you hold for all those you care for, and how...insufficient you have found me."

Rachel squirmed a little, shifting on her seat. "Al—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "No. I am not ready to let you into my...life." He tried to return to his usual nonchalance, leering at her. "My bed, on the other hand..."

"That was a one-time thing. And stop that."

He'd seen her desire for him in her secret soul too, yes...entangled as it was in miles of ribbons of guilt and self-recrimination. "If I try to be serious, you'll only accuse me of manipulating you, Rachel. And I won't. I won't...stoop to that, not even for another night like the one we shared."

She blinked, her blush evident even in the firelight. Al inhaled sharply as he caught the scent of her desire, even as she worked to suppress it. She did still want him, and the lure of the forbidden added its own savor. "Maybe you saying that is just more manipulation," she said, as if testing the idea.

Al tossed his hands up. "There, you see? Even with bare truth, I cannot win! But if you don't wish to stay with me, there are several hundred of my brethren who would be most delighted to take you in. Shall I give Newt a call, love?" He summoned his scrying mirror to make good on his offer, splaying his fingers over the complex red sigils.

"No!" Al started when her hand slapped down over his gloved fingers. She'd scooted over beside him and he hadn't even noticed. His eyes went wide, and he hardly dared move a muscle as she settled back, taking her hand away. "No," she said more softly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Lesson One of Life in the Ever After, Itchy Witch. Never say you're sorry."

"I mean it, Al! You really stuck your neck out for me back at Dalliance. And you didn't have to offer me a place here. I shouldn't have snapped at you, or assumed...just because we...it was just a...oh, hell."

She was so close. She'd come to him. All he had to do was reach out and touch her. He knew what buttons to push, and he wouldn't, damn it. She wanted it, but she didn't want enough. She didn't want him. She wasn't ready, not yet. And yet...his own longing was an ache, growing painful, as if she were unzipping him from throat to groin and toying with his heart.

"You're welcome." He let the silence grow. "And yet you still sit there questioning my motives."

She gave a guilty wince, tucking a strand of her wild, unkempt hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture of discomfort. "You saw my soul. I still...I just need to know..."

"Rachel." He pulled his gloves from his hands, slowly, one finger at a time. She watched in silence, eyes questioning. Slowly, he lifted a finger to one errant curl draped over her shoulder, and saw her imperceptible flinch. Something in him died a little. What wouldn't he give to start over with her, to have her come to him willingly and not under the influence of their peculiar engineered biology? Could he ever win her, truly? "Let it go, dove. I have my reasons. But you expect too much. I am not the one to complete you." Not now. Someday, perhaps, but...

She chewed on her lip, expression teetering between relieved and hurt. She really had to learn a better poker face, because even a demon who hadn't just gone spelunking in her mind could read her expressive features and play her like a pianoforte.

A sneeze caught him unawares, and Rachel gave a violent start. Drat. They'd sensed her return to consciousness, and now every blasted demon in the Ever After would swoop in and demand her attention. He scanned the incoming call with a sour expression. Tron. Lovely. Well, she might as well see what she'd be in for, and Tron was good sucker to cut her teeth on. "It's for you," he said, sliding the scrying mirror over to Rachel.

He could have listened in on the call, but it was more entertaining to imagine Tron's end of the conversation as Rachel badgered him out of a new room in exchange for a copy of her mother's car. He paused at her unspoken surety that Al would help her fix the tulpa into reality...but really, who else would she trust to do it? On the other hand, he had to nip this in the bud, because he'd be damned if he'd spend the next few years stuck home alone, watching Rachel sleeping. He took a moment to put up a glaring DO NOT DISTURB notice under their names in the Collective after she hung up. No more inane requests just now; it was time to celebrate.

Rachel accepted the tall goblet he handed her, grinning as they clinked and drank to her first deal as a demon. He refilled their glasses as she told him why she wanted the room, and he shook his head. "Rachel, I'm giving you my room. The protections are chiseled into the stone. It will take weeks to prepare a new space with such strong wards. You needn't worry; I shall sleep in the library." And wouldn't that be fun? How long has it been since I updated those wards? Are they enough to keep Pierce out? Damn.

"Then you can have the new one," she said, and he stilled.

"You're giving it to me?" he asked. It took ages to carve a decent living space from the bedrock of the Ever After. Well, more like weeks, but it was tedious, delicate work that couldn't possibly be entrusted to a mere familiar.

"Why not? I owe you big. Just tell me what you want," she said, cheeks flushed from the alcohol as she drained her goblet again. His eyes widened, and his lips parted, before she added quickly, "Just tell me what you want, Al, and I'll make it for you."

Tulpas. She was talking about tulpas. He couldn't help the disappointed flush that burned on his own ruddy face. His eyes flicked to the mark he'd given her, ages ago it seemed. "Do you not wish to be rid of that mark...?" he asked, voice quiet.

She blinked, finished draining her second glass of his best brandy, and brought her wrist up to look at it as if she'd never seen it before. "I...ah...forgot about it," she said. Her brow creased as a new emotion flickered over her lovely features. "I think I'll keep it. You know, sort of a, you know..." She paused, trying to explain. "Like my pack tattoo."

He froze. Her dandelion tattoo signified her alpha status in some werewolf pack. The story was something Al had never cared enough to ask about. But he'd seen in her soul her deep-seated desire to belong, to matter, particularly strong after she'd spent the better part of a summer shunned by the witch community.

She wanted to belong to the demon community.

She wanted to matter... to him.

His lips parted. No. She was tipsy. "It is not a tattoo," he corrected, realizing that perhaps that second glass had been a bad idea for both of them. "It is a mark of debt. I own a piece of your soul. Don't you wish to clear the debt? A room is more than adequate repayment."

She held out her glass for a refill. This was a terrible idea. He refilled it anyway, and his own. She shook her head. "No, you can have the room. It's just a room. It wouldn't erase what I owe you, Al. You risked so much for me."

"You did save me from Pierce," he said thoughtfully, as she swallowed down half of the sweet amber liquid. "Saved me from a most ignominious death at the hands of a mere familiar. Shall we not call ourselves even?"

She gave that some thought, swirling the brandy thoughtfully. He really should have put it in proper glasses, but Pierce had broken all his stemware. "Well, maybe you should wear my mark, too, then," she suggested playfully. "We'll just keep on addin' tally marks to it until we each own the other."

Al couldn't believe what he was hearing. Demon women and their damned tricky subconscious desires. His mind flashed back to the morning Evie had asked him, seriously, if demons ever marked each other as a sign of affection/ownership, and he'd truthfully told her no, not anymore. Not after there'd been nobody of worth left with which to share such intimacies. But...there was one now.

Setting down his goblet, he very deliberately undid the button at his left cuff and slowly slid the lace up to reveal his wrist. He conjured his ugly pornographic knife, the one she hated so much, and held both knife and wrist to her, brow raised in challenge.

Rachel contemplated his offer for a moment with the seriousness of the inebriated, then grinned her wicked grin. Challenge accepted. She set her own drink aside, grasped his forearm in her slender fingers and, very carefully, scribed a shallow circle with the knife on the inside of his wrist. Al held completely still as his blood welled up, staining the lace, and she completed the curse as if she'd done it hundreds of times. Al felt the jolt as her magic swept through him, plinking straight into his heart. Still unmoving, he raised his eyes to her face. She hadn't simply marked him, not with a debt. She'd added a little push. She'd claimed him.

But she'd had to be drunk to do it?

Rachel stared at the scar she'd made, brow furrowed. Her eyes flew to his face, trying to read his reaction. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is." She hadn't released his arm. She was so close. He parted his lips, knowing that even breathing through his mouth wouldn't help him escape all of her intoxicating scent, but hoping it would at least buy him a little sense.

"It...just felt different than when I marked Minias and Hope," she said, setting the knife down next to her goblet. "I stained your sleeve," she added, eyes flicking to the spots of scarlet.

Sun and stars, she was drawn to his blood. Al swallowed. "It's nothing," he said, withdrawing his arm, and she took a step closer instead of releasing him.

Not like this. Not while she's so confused. He took a step back.

"Al...are you afraid of me?" she asked, as if she feared his answer.

"No," he lied. "But, my Itchy Witch, I am afraid that you are a bit of a lightweight. Perhaps it's time to retire. Big day tomorrow! Demons to fight, tulpas to create..."

"I think you are!" She looked triumphant at the discovery. "But you don't have to be. We're on the same team now! Team Al versus the Ever After!" She held up his wrist and pressed her mark to his. "Wonder Twin powers, activate!"

The spark that shot through him then, as the energies they each had spindled in their chis burst out and began to equalize between them, made him gasp. She echoed him, staggering, and without thinking he flung an arm about her waist to steady her. She fell against him, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and didn't pull away.

"Rachel," he whispered, taking a shuddering breath.

"Sorry," she said, chagrined. "That was...I didn't think..."

The hell with it.

He kissed her, twining her fingers with his to strengthen their connection until the energies they exchanged sang within them. She kissed him back, fingers sliding around his neck, pressing herself into him eagerly. She was sweeter than the brandy still flavoring her lips, sweeter than life itself, and he closed his eyes and drank her in. This wouldn't last. She'd snap out of it and slug him, and all would be well.

Just...just a few more moments of this sweet fantasy first.

But even as he thought this, she slid a leg around him and gave the backs of his knees a soft kick, and he fell to kneeling, energies still sparking and sizzling between them as she fell with him. He poured more of his magic into her, and her nails raked the nape of his neck as she arched against him. He groaned against her lips, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he didn't end this soon. Part of her wanted him, and part of her still didn't trust him. It was a recipe for disaster.

Of course she didn't trust him. She hadn't seen his soul. Mates must be equals. She marked him as he'd marked her, and she must get the measure of his soul, must see him as intimately as he'd seen her. He'd known that the moment he'd lifted her from the tulpa, known that he would have to open himself to her, make himself as vulnerable as she had been to even the score...and yes, he was afraid.

He could simply seduce her. Carry her off to his bedroom for another night of passion, satisfying her immediate desires, but nothing would change except for another layer of guilt and self-recrimination added to the wall that separated them. But he wanted more, so much more.

"I'm not afraid," he lied again, moving his lips to her throat. She moaned softly as he stimulated the scars he'd left there, still sensitized after all this time. He bit gently, then harder as she clutched at him, all inhibitions gone. "Rachel...give this to me," he murmured.

"Yes," she said without hesitation, and he bit down, drawing her sweet blood. She cried out, and he held her tightly, letting his venom loose in her as he pulled his magic back into him. He released it again, channeling it through her with exquisite delicacy, making it dance and tingle all over her skin. "Oh, God, Al..."

Hearing his name on her lips sealed his fate. He pulled back and found her mouth again, tumbling backward, pulling her down atop him in a tangle of limbs. His thick fingers tangled in her unruly curls, the wild mass ticking his face as she writhed against him. Her free hand was already exploring him, diving too far south for what he had in mind, so he caught her roving fingers in his. She humphed in annoyance at that. After a moment's struggle, he found himself pinned beneath her by his wrists and her weight on his groin, and chuckled softly. "I am caught," he said. "Whatever shall I do now?"

"Whatever...I...want," she breathed between deep kisses.

"I believe I know what you want, Rachel. Will you let me show you?"

Still panting from the tingling energies humming between them, she gazed at him, eyes suddenly distant. A trace of unease crossed her face. She was already coming back to reality, he realized, and sudden desperation filled him. It was dangerous to push her...but if she panicked and ran away now, she'd be too afraid to ever open up to him again.

Heedless of the risk, he triggered the venom in her system and pulled, gathering the energies from her in a wild rush. Her eyes closed and she resisted, making him work for it. They groaned together, voices hoarse as their auras danced. She writhed—by the two worlds colliding, he would spend himself in his clothes if she kept doing that! She pulled back, taking back what he had stolen, and he sought the pathways his venom had taken into her psyche, following them, winding through the twists and corridors of her beautiful, wild soul. In turn, he felt Rachel reaching out to him, following him back as he danced before her, following him into his own mind by the newly rising awareness his venom was gifting her.

"Through wit and guile I caught you," he murmured, soft voice coaxing, "And with your fierce courage, you bested me. Come and see me, my itchy witch...come and see...come and see..."

She did, skittish as a kitten, tracing the pathways of the energies he burned into his mind eons ago, her careful exploration wildly erotic in its innocence. He pulled from her chi, magic flowing past her awareness into the center of his mind, where his soul resided, guiding her...

She balked, pulling back in sudden realization. "Al? What are you doing to me?"

"Rachel—" But it was too late. The spell had been broken. Like an idiot, he clutched at her awareness, trying to hold on to the closeness, the intimacy they could share.

But she balked, twisting, sudden fear turning into a deep suspicion. "Are you trying to mate with me?" she asked. Her hand flew to her neck, and he recalled something else he'd seen there, in the depths of her soul: a mortal terror of being bound, of losing her will, of losing her self.

"No!" Mother fucking pussbucket, he'd let Evie do the explaining about mating. What, exactly, had she told Rachel?

But Rachel was already succumbing to fury and panic, and, flailing, still buried deep in his mind, she tapped a line, hard. Al could only scream as the line tore through him to her, down uncharted paths, bright and burning as creation itself.

Newt had roared in to the rescue, ignoring the Do Not Disturb as she always did, and resolved the misunderstanding with a boot to Rachel's head and a sober-up curse slapped on them both.

And curse his luck, Rachel had been summoned almost immediately thereafter by one of her damned friends, still reeling and traumatized from the experience. Never had a sunset been so bloody ill-timed.

Newt left him tucked in his bed, cooing over him like she had eons ago, when he'd been a mere boy. That had been nearly as humiliating as Rachel's rejection had been. Trapped in his personal hell until his aura recovered, sleep eluded him. His mind flew in frantic circles trying to decipher some way, any way, to fix this. He called her and called her through the scrying mirror, unsurprised when she didn't answer. What in the bloody hell would he do when next he saw her? How could he possibly explain?

He would never find out.

She'd gone to battle Ku'Sox, transferred Nick's banishment curse to him, and the genetic designer dump had dropped her into a ley line in retaliation. Ku'Sox was trapped with them forever after...

...and Rachel was dead.