Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,9
the next time I walked into this room and hers. Maybe that was why Marcel got the biggest loser to clean house after the session. It looked, to the unknowing eye, like a penalty. But it was actually an opportunity to reflect on where I’d mis-stepped and where I could do better, going over the very ground where I’d made my mistakes. I supposed it made a poignant parallel to my work with Victoria, too. My mom would have laughed herself into a burst blood vessel if I’d admitted this to her, after the arguments we used to have about the state of my bedroom—paints and pencils and papers and canvases everywhere—but there was a serenity and a meditative quality to be found in sweeping and scrubbing.
“You realize I could’ve skimmed a bit of Water over the floor and nobody would’ve known the difference, right?” Genie leaned on a mop, having just finished up the last corner. She didn’t have to help me out, but she always did, and she always whined about it. Secretly, I think she got something meditative out of it, too. The lady doth protest too much, as Shakespeare would’ve said.
I chucked the big yellow sponge that I used for thoroughness into a clean bucket. “That would be missing the point of the punishment, and Marcel would definitely know the difference. I think he’s addicted to the smell of this lemon stuff.” I was pretty sure the scent of citrus detergent would bring my mind back into this room for the rest of my life.
“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” She gathered up the mop and broom, tiptoeing like a cartoon spy across the damp floor toward the storage cupboard. I joined her, locking away the supplies until I’d have to haul them back out again on Monday. She flashed me a wicked grin as she snapped the cupboard shut. “Does this mean we’re ready to get our weekend on?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a hot date with my bathtub and Mr. Epsom,” I said as we hopped from dry spot to dry spot on our way out of the training room. Obviously, Mr. Epsom was a hefty bag of bath salts; as far as romantic interests went, I’d only received one offer… and that came with a hell-crown that I definitely didn’t want, despite him being in my good books for the time being. I hadn’t mentioned much about my session to Genie, in case it freaked her out, but she seemed to sense something had gone on and had amped up her cheer to make up for it.
She gave a low whistle. “Saucy minx.” A visible hint of excitement bristled through her, like she’d licked a battery to test if it worked. “But first, pixie time!”
“I was thinking about skipping tonight,” I lied. I had a theory that I wanted to kick the tires on.
Her mouth dropped in surprise, but then her eyes narrowed. “Ooh, you almost got me there.”
“What?” I acted coy, glad to be distracted from what had happened with Victoria. “I thought you’d jump at the idea of a night off from my pesky Purges. Unless… there’s another, taller, lion-ish, handsome reason you want to spend your Friday evening at the Repository?”
In terms of Genie’s romantic interests, she’d received a slew of love confessions, proposed dates, and secret cards left outside her bedroom door from a bevy of hunters who’d watched her meteoric rise through the first-year ranks, her talents giving older students a run for their money. But she only had eyes for one man. Frankly, I was sick of waiting for them to get their act together, waiting for that slow-motion, strings-coming-in-on-the-soundtrack moment that still hadn’t happened. It had been six months since Fergus and Lorelei, and even that heart-wrenching tale of star-crossed love hadn’t been enough to light a fire under either of them.
“Tobe? He’s a peach, and I’m sure there are plenty of folks with a Beauty-and-the-Beast-fantasy, but he’s just not my type.” She grinned wolfishly, looping her arm through mine as we headed for our rock-and-roll Repository Friday. “Now, tell me you’re not going to bury your nose in books all day tomorrow. I was thinking we could have a little jaunt into town, or a walk on the beach.”
“I know Nathan hasn’t asked you out yet, but I’m not much of a substitute,” I teased, refusing to drop the subject until they shouted from the rooftops that they were crazy about each