Bad Luck, Baby

16 - Bad Communication

The following day, Janelle changed my bandages and discovered my hands had nearly healed. Only the centers of my palms remained red and painful. She wrapped them in a thin layer of gauze and nodded approvingly.

"You're healing fast," she said. "That's good. Means your energy's back to a full tank."

Ro stood by, watching from where he leaned against the wall by the window with his arms crossed. His long hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, and his sharp claws dented the fabric of his crisp black shirt where he gripped his arms.

"Let's keep it that way," he said. "Meanwhile, I'm going out again. I want to get the dirt on this 'Al.'"

"Ro—" I started to protest, but he shook his head.

"No. If you want to help, you can do so by staying here and staying alive. Besides, it'll be easier on my own."

I couldn't argue with that, given what had happened at the wedding, and sank back against the pillows as Janelle finished wrapping my hands.

I examined my fingers dejectedly. The burns had healed almost, but not entirely, without a trace. A network of razor-thin scars covered my skin, like spider webs or the most delicate lace.

Leave it to me to ruin the one feature I'd been even close to vain about.

Janelle seemed to read my thoughts and patted my arm. "I think they're kinda pretty," she said. "But you could always get tattoos to cover 'em up if you wanted."

"They won't fade?" I asked.

She smiled. "Unlikely. Injuries caused by magic tend to leave a mark. Most witches have one or two, though not always so visible, and seldom so evident of power. Witches who see these scars will know them for what they are."

"Great. Guess I'll be a weirdo who wears gloves in the summer, then." I sighed.

"I think that would draw more attention, rather than less," Ro drawled. "The scars are barely visible. Besides, no one will be looking at your hands; they're hardly your best feature."

His words struck a raw nerve, and in the surprise of sudden hurt, I laughed. "Not anymore."

Ro frowned. "I didn't mean—"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Janelle snapped, and Ro looked at her, seemingly perplexed.

"I... suppose I could get an early start."

"I think you should," she said.

He shrugged. "All right. I'll be back sometime tonight. Late, most likely."

He transformed, hopped through the window, and was gone.

Janelle sighed. "For a cat, Ro sure is clumsy, sometimes."

"Where are my rings?" I asked. I realized I didn't remember seeing them after the accident.

"Destroyed, most likely," Janelle said. "You weren't wearing any when Ro brought you in. Probably vaporized by the heat."

I looked at my hands again. "How is that possible? I mean, if the fire was that hot, how do I still have hands at all?"

"Magic." Janelle smiled and patted my arm. "And a bit of good luck."

❧

I felt well enough to work in the shop that day, but Janelle only let me stay until noon. Then she sent me back to my room, telling me to practice my breathing exercises and rest.

After an hour of unsuccessful attempts at meditation, I was bored out of my mind and undeniably depressed. As usual, I'd managed to fuck things up for myself just by breathing.