Chapter Nine:
It was only three days into the holiday break, and Rose felt as though she were teetering on the brink of madness. The book Anya had instructed her to fetch lay on the hardwood desk in the corner of Rose's dimly lit bedroom. Its ominous presence seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a constant reminder of the unsettling information the ex-demon had relayed.
Rose had hardly slept over the past two nights. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Giles and the strange bond between their magic danced in her mind, blending into a whirlpool of anxiety and confusion. She grappled with the disconcerting thought: was she obsessing over Giles because of a supernatural compulsion, or was she merely succumbing to her own paranoia? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making sleep elusive. The bond she feared might be pulling them together seemed to mock her indecision, and the more she pondered, the more elusive clarity became.
She knew she couldn't decipher the cryptic text on her own. Giles was essential to understanding whether Anya's claims had any validity. Fortunately, the holiday season provided her with a perfect escape. Her Aunt Selena's endless stream of Christmas parties offered the perfect cover. With the constant social bustle, Rose could slip away without raising suspicion. The demand for her aunt's fortune-telling services was at its peak, leaving Rose with an opportunity to sneak out unnoticed. Regardless, she hadn't seen her Aunt in the past few weeks. Rose couldn't remember when she last saw her Aunt, between her classes and homework and Selena being gone to the shop.
Now, sitting in her car, Rose's gaze was fixed on the imposing complex where Giles lived. The book rested on the passenger seat, its cover a silent testament to the weight of her dilemma. She had no means to call him and inquire whether her visit would be welcome. What if he had gone out? What if he had company? The nagging doubts began to erode her resolve. Her mind raced with the possibilities of making a fool of herself, and she began to second-guess her decision. Was this venture a colossal mistake?
A sharp knock on the car window jolted her from her thoughts. "FUCK!" Rose gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. She clutched the steering wheel with white-knuckled desperation, her breath hitching as adrenaline surged through her veins. Slowly, she turned her head, half-expecting to see an intimidating stranger—but instead, Giles's familiar face appeared outside the glass.
The sight of him, dressed in a dark grey hoodie and sweatpants, struck Rose as unexpectedly mundane. He must have been out for a run. The ordinary appearance of Giles contrasted sharply with the extraordinary nature of their predicament, adding a surreal quality to the moment.
Giles took a step back, allowing her the space to open the door and exit the vehicle. Rose gathered herself, gripping the book tightly as she approached him.
"Rose?" Giles's voice was tinged with surprise and curiosity.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice betraying her nervousness. "I didn't know how to reach you, but I was hoping we could talk."
"About what?" Giles inquired, a note of concern in his tone.
"About what's happening with us—our magic. I might have a book that can help, but I can't read it to verify what I've been told." Rose extended the book toward him. Giles took it, examining the cover with a thoughtful frown.
"Come in," he said, gesturing toward the building. "I'll make tea."
"Any chance you have some really strong coffee?" Rose asked, her voice tinged with fatigue. "I haven't… I haven't been sleeping well the last few nights. I'm basically running on extreme guilt and caffeine."
Giles's smile was tinged with sadness as he nodded, leading her into the complex. The tension between them was palpable, and every step toward his front door felt like traversing a tightrope of unspoken emotions. As Giles unlocked the door and ushered her inside, Rose's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
Once inside, Giles quietly closed the door behind them, the soft click resonating in the otherwise silent house. He set the book down on his desk with a deliberate slowness, his hands lingering on the leather cover for a moment longer than necessary. Without meeting Rose's eyes, he turned toward the kitchen, leaving her standing in the living area, awkward and exposed.
Rose wrapped her arms around herself as though to shield against the chill of uncertainty that settled between them. She watched him move, each step a quiet echo, and felt the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Her heart beat faster, the distance between them suddenly feeling like a chasm.
"It was in my aunt's shop," she began, her voice trembling as if the words themselves were fragile. "By chance, someone pointed it out to me and read a passage, but I can't confirm what she told me. I was hoping you could help translate."
Giles busied himself with the coffeemaker, his back to her as he grabbed the canteen of coffee grounds. Rose's focus stayed locked on him. She found herself drawn to the broad set of his shoulders, the way his hands moved—steady and capable, even when his mind must be reeling. There was a comfort in the familiar sight of him, but that same comfort was now tinged with a dangerous, electric charge.
"I'm not well-versed in Old Croatian," he said, his tone more measured than his earlier actions, "but I do have many volumes that can aid in translation."
Rose nodded, though he couldn't see her, her thoughts racing faster than she could gather them. "She… she said something about a magical bond. Something ancient. I didn't really understand at first, but then she showed me the text." She hesitated, her throat tightening. "She said we might be magical soul mates."
At those words, Giles's hands stilled. The coffeemaker whirred softly, but everything else in the room seemed to freeze. Slowly, he turned, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His face was a mixture of shock and something else—something deeper that Rose couldn't quite name. His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before he caught himself, quickly refocusing on her eyes.
"It's… not what it sounds like," she added quickly, her cheeks flushing. "But it means our magic is connected. And if we—if we fully connect…" She swallowed hard. "Things could get dangerous."
Giles inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he crossed the room toward her. He stopped just short of touching her, their proximity enough to make her pulse race but far enough to keep the tension taut. His hand hovered near hers, almost as if he wanted to reach out but held back at the last second.
"How dangerous?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable, his voice lower than usual.
"Anya said… if we connect and then get separated, it could—" Her voice faltered. His closeness was overwhelming, the warmth of him drawing her in. "It could kill us."
The air between them grew thicker, charged with the weight of what they weren't saying. Her gaze dropped to his hand, so close to hers that she could almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. If she just shifted slightly, her fingers could graze his. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous.
They stood like that, unmoving, the tension coiling tighter with every second. Rose's lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she watched as Giles's hand twitched, his fingers curling ever so slightly toward her. It was nothing more than a whisper of movement, but it sent a thrill through her, the kind that left her breathless.
"But it can't be true," she forced herself to say, her voice quieter now. "That's why I need your help to verify what this book says."
Giles nodded, though the intensity in his eyes hadn't lessened. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but then he closed it again, rubbing the back of his neck instead. It was an old, familiar gesture of his, one that made Rose ache with the knowledge of how well she knew him—too well, perhaps.
"What did she mean by 'connect'?" Giles asked, his voice a rasp, and this time when he spoke, he didn't move away. If anything, he seemed to lean in just the tiniest bit, enough to make Rose's breath catch.
She felt a blush creep up her neck. "I think you know what I mean, Rupert." The sound of his name on her lips sent a spark through the air between them, something raw and unspoken hanging in the space left by her words.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, the words barely audible as he turned away, breaking the moment. His hand brushed her arm lightly as he moved past her, a fleeting touch that burned like fire. Rose flinched, but not from pain—something else entirely, something that made her long for more. She bit her lip, her body still humming from the contact.
"It could always be worse, I suppose," Rose added, her voice shaking, "The last pair she met, were burned at the stake."
Giles gave a strained chuckle, his attempt at humor doing little to break the tension that pulsed between them. "Perhaps I should have made the coffee stronger," he murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I'll be back in a moment," he said, his voice tight. "Feel free to make yourself at home."
"No rush, take your time," Rose replied, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her voice wavered, betraying the anxiety gnawing at her insides.
"Cream is in the fridge and sugar on the counter, cups—"
"I know where the cups are," Rose interrupted, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. The laughter felt hollow, more a release of nervous energy than genuine amusement.
Giles gave her a brief, uncertain look before he turned to head upstairs. The echo of his footsteps faded, leaving Rose alone in the quiet, the tension between them lingering like the weight of unspoken fears. The stillness was thick, oppressive, and Rose exhaled slowly, trying to steady her shaking hands.
The scent of brewing coffee filled the room, offering a small comfort against the rising tide of her thoughts. She clung to the mundane task of preparing her drink, but her mind was elsewhere—spiraling with dread. What if they found proof? What if the bond was as dangerous as Anya suggested? Her chest tightened as panic took hold, her breath catching in her throat.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for a mug. She poured the dark liquid with more force than intended, the coffee splashing onto the counter. She cursed under her breath, quickly wiping it away. The bitterness of the coffee matched the turmoil roiling inside her, and as she took a sip, the flavor did little to settle her nerves.
The quiet of Giles's home surrounded her, normally a refuge, but now it felt alien, as though it belonged to a different life. The warmth of old leather and books, once comforting, felt distant. She tried to focus on the simple task of drinking her coffee, but every second seemed to stretch into an eternity as her anxiety churned.
Footsteps creaked down the stairs, drawing her attention. Giles returned, now dressed in casual jeans and a dark grey sweater, his arms laden with books. The tension etched into his features mirrored her own.
"Sorry about the wait," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before. "I brought a few texts that might help with the translation."
Rose offered a tight-lipped smile. "It's all good."
He set the books down on the coffee table and gestured toward the couch. "Shall we begin?"
Nodding, Rose followed him. She settled into the cushions, feeling the awkwardness close in around them again like a fog. Giles handed her a thick, ancient-looking book, and as their hands brushed during the exchange, an unexpected spark shot through her, making her heart skip. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to focus on the text, but the warmth of his fingers lingered.
"So… who was it that told you about this book?" Giles asked, breaking the silence as he sat beside her.
"An ex-demon," Rose replied after a pause, glancing up to meet his gaze, their proximity unsettling in a way that made her hyper-aware of every slight movement.
He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh? Hang around with a lot of those, do you?"
The teasing lilt in his voice caught her off guard, and despite everything, a small, genuine smile formed on her lips. "More than you might think," she said, feeling the faintest ease in the tension. But her heart beat faster when his knee bumped against hers—casual, unintentional, but enough to send a wave of heat through her. She shifted slightly but stayed where she was.
Giles chuckled softly, and for the first time that day, the air between them felt a little lighter. They turned their attention back to the text, falling into a rhythm as they worked through the material, side by side but lost in their own thoughts.
At one point, Rose reached for the notebook at the same time as Giles did. Their fingers brushed once again, and this time, the touch felt heavier, more deliberate. They both withdrew quickly, Giles mumbling an awkward apology under his breath, and Rose nodding, her throat suddenly dry.
Hours passed unnoticed; the room growing dim as the daylight outside faded. The coffee pot, once full of warmth and promise, sat cold and empty on the counter. The scent of the coffee had long since dissipated, leaving behind only the quiet of their study.
Rose found herself glancing at Giles from time to time, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration. His glasses slipped down his nose as he read, and he absently pushed them back into place with a familiar gesture. There was a calmness about him now that hadn't been there before, as if the act of working through the problem together had given him focus.
She, too, had relaxed into the couch, her legs tucked beneath her. Despite the weight of the ancient book in her lap, her mind began to wander, slipping from the details of the text to the man beside her. There was something almost intimate about this—sitting here, the silence between them more comfortable than it had any right to be. It was as though the very air between them had shifted, no longer fraught with fear, but something else entirely—something unspoken, yet palpable.
Eventually, Giles closed the book in his hands with a soft thud. His eyes, tired but contemplative, met Rose's. "I don't think I've ever read anything quite so…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Depressing," Rose finished for him, her smile more resigned this time.
"I was going to say disheartening, but yes, depressing fits," he replied with a sigh, leaning back against the couch and removing his glasses. As he did, his arm brushed hers—whether by accident or on purpose, Rose wasn't sure—but the brief contact sent a shiver down her spine. He didn't seem to notice, though, too absorbed in the weight of their situation.
Rose let out a frustrated breath, slapping her book shut. "I don't understand. If this bond is some kind of magical match, why does it come at such a steep price? Why is it all or nothing?" Her voice was rising, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "Magic isn't supposed to work like this. There's always balance."
"It does seem rather strange," Giles agreed quietly. He set his glasses on the table and leaned forward, his hands clasped as he stared at the books in front of them. "Perhaps this is the price we pay to wield such powerful magic."
Rose shook her head, chewing on her lip. "But… what does 'apart' mean? How far is too far? There's no clarity. It feels like something you'd say to scare children into behaving."
Giles's eyes darkened with thought. "You did mention that a pair had been burned at the stake."
"Yeah, but that could have been just because they had magic?" Rose's voice was filled with disbelief. "We need more information."
"Unless…" Giles hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Unless it's not a bond. But a curse."
The word hit Rose like a slap, cold and sharp. A curse. Her heart began to pound. If it was a curse, it could be broken. But the thought brought little comfort. A curse carried its own dangers, its own consequences. Rose's breath quickened, and she met Giles's eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance.
Giles reached out, placing his hand over hers on the closed book. His touch was gentle, but the warmth of his palm against her skin sent a jolt through her, grounding her in the moment. For a brief second, she couldn't think—only feel. His thumb brushed her knuckles as if by accident, but the sensation lingered, igniting something she hadn't anticipated.
His gaze was steady, but there was sadness there, a resignation that mirrored her own. Giles didn't pull his hand away, his skin resting lightly on hers, as though he was offering her silent comfort—both of them grasping at the same fragile thread of hope.
"We'll figure this out," Giles said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. His hand remained on hers for a moment longer, a tether keeping them connected in the uncertainty that surrounded them. The world around them seemed to narrow, shrinking down to just the two of them and the warmth where their hands touched.
Rose's breath hitched. She could feel the tension crackling in the space between them, something unspoken but potent swirling in the air. The exhaustion and fear that had weighed on her began to fade, replaced by an electric awareness of him—of the way his thumb brushed against her skin, the way his breathing seemed to have slowed.
She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, time stilled. Giles was closer than she realized, their faces only inches apart. The weight of everything they hadn't said—everything they hadn't dared acknowledge—hung heavy in the silence. His eyes flicked down to her lips for just a heartbeat, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt herself lean in, just a fraction, pulled toward him by something she couldn't control.
Giles's gaze darkened, his hand shifting ever so slightly as though he might close the remaining distance between them. Rose could almost feel the ghost of his breath on her skin, the tantalizing thought of his lips just a breath away—
And then the knock came.
The sound shattered the fragile moment, sending them both flinching apart as though waking from a dream. Giles pulled his hand back, clearing his throat, while Rose sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. The spell between them was broken, but the lingering heat of it remained, burning under her skin.