Devil in Disguise (Kai Parker)

Chapter Forty-One: Pancakes and a Reunion

Meg whistled as she piled pancake mix into a pan, watching the cream-coloured goo bubble as it hit the heat. The window was open, and sunlight was flooding the kitchen, making it look like some scene from a cheesy movie. Birds chirping, people chatting in the distance, the whole package. She hated it, but just smiled larger and kept whistling.

Jo walked into the kitchen, taking in the whole cheery scene with an air of bemusement. Meg nodded in her direction and flipped a cake with her spatula, purposefully ignoring her as she raised her eyebrows. "Hi, Meg."

"Hi Jo." she said quickly. "How are you? Is your magic any better?"

She may as well have been wearing a sign that said Don't talk to me about that right now, but Jo still ignored it. "I'm fine, it's the same. How are you d–"

"Do you want a pancake?" she interrupted, despite the fact most of the pancakes were still masses of grey-ish goop. Make that a fluorescent sign with a foghorn sounding around it, but Jo still powered on.

"No, thanks. But, Meg," she strode forward and grabbed her hand so she had to drop the spatula. "How are you doing?" she asked, looking Meg squarely in the eyes in such a way that didn't let her look away.

She smiled painfully. "I'm doing fine, Jo. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you came home crying a river last night," a sarcastic and wholly unwelcome voice came from behind Jo, at the doorframe. Jo sighed, and Meg managed to roll her eyes.

"Pancake, Damon?" she asked, as if she hadn't heard him. Her attention was totally focussed on the pancakes again, but that didn't stop her from hearing Damon's cynical response.

"After 1994, I don't think I could touch one of those things again." he wrinkled his nose, and walked casually around the side of the bench. Meg stiffened as he came closer, sensing another question about 'crying a river' last night.

"Can I have a moment to talk to Meg, Damon?" Jo asked, annoyed, and he waved her away as if she was an irritating fly.

"Sorry, but this is my interrogation time." he slipped the spatula from under Meg's fingers and she couldn't help it. She turned, and punched him in the nose.

There was no magic in the punch, but it still sent Damon flying. He bashed against a counter, sending a stack of pots and pans clanging to the ground like noisy raindrops. Jo cried out and Damon groaned, fingering his nose delicately. Blood was pooling steadily, running down to his chin before dripping onto his white shirt. "What'd you do that for?" he asked indignantly, wincing as his nose tweaked.

"I am trying," she returned to the pancakes, "to fix this damn smile on my face and get through the day, Damon. Which you, are not helping me do, and so... you got to be the recipient of my anger."

"Meg, I don't think that's healthy." Jo started again, and Meg snapped.

"You're not a psychiatrist, Jo. Leave the therapy to those who actually know what they're doing." she flipped another cake, smiling when she saw it had turned a golden brown. "Ooh, this one's nearly done."

"Meg!" Jo barked, in a rare lapse of calm. She breathed in deeply, and then shook her head before saying more composedly, "Meg, you've got to talk about what happened last night. If you don't, it's going to eat away at your sanity until there's nothing left."

"Jo, do you really think I've ever actually had any sanity?" she asked, completely serious. "My magic's gone right now, and I still feel like I should be in an asylum. Maybe my magic's not the problem. Maybe its me." her eyes became unfocussed as she stared off into the distance, but then she shook her head and returned to her cooking.