Desolate Me

Someone Like You

“I realize you’re upset…”

“No. I’m not upset. I’m pissed off. You want to know why?” He didn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Because as I was talking to her, there was this bright light and about four ghosts popped into my room. Four. Four screaming, pissed off ghosts.”

Well, that explained why it took him so long to get out to the barn.

“I’m sorry?”

He growled. “I think I need more than apology. An explanation and a promise that you won’t ever do it again would be nice. Maybe even some community service.”

I sighed. “The spell went wrong. I ended up having to use…”

“Yourself. Yeah. I got that much from the Gaelic my grandmother was spouting. Why did you do that?” He plopped down on the bench, looking very tired and long suffering. “Why? I told you exchange spells were nasty bits. And from the way it felt when I got there, you exchanged more than you told me. More than you probably bargained for and know about for that matter.”

“The vial of blood broke and if I didn’t use myself, I would’ve had to wait until the next waning moon to do the ritual.”

“That light was you last night, wasn’t it? Damn it, Cass. There was nothing wrong with waiting another two weeks.”

I glared at him, loosing my patience. “I was tired of my uncle bruising the hell out of me and giving me mild cases of ghost sickness. Have you ever had ghost sickness, Andy? It sucks. Like majorly.”

“You need some serious help, girl. It wasn’t worth what you got out of it.”

“I hope to god you don’t mean mental because then you might have to charge me with assaulting an officer.”

“I mean with your powers and maybe just a hint of mental.”

“Drake Paramore is going to help me.”

“An Ice Warlock?” He cracked a smile. “You’ve got to be joking. They don’t know jack shite about our magic. Your athair needs to ship you back to Éire where they can deal witcha. You’re a damn nuisance, girl.” His accent was just getting thicker and thicker. It made me miss home.

“My mother…”

“Is gone. And it’s sad, it really is. The only reason I still have my mom is because she doesn’t practice anymore. Why isn’t Alma helping you? Jesus Christ Almighty, give me patience.”

“She has other things to do then…”

“You never asked her, did you?”

“I’m getting help. Ok? So can you stop yelling at me and go?”

“Um, no. You still owe me an apology and then I’m signing you up for community service with the church and then maybe I might strangle you. Then I’m going to talk to your dad.”

“No. No, no…no. Andy.” I smiled briefly. “That’s a little extreme.”

“Extreme? Dia, a thabhairt dom neart. Cass—” he covered my hands with his “—you lit up the fucking Ghost Plain like a search light. Do you know what it takes to do that? The after affects it has on you?” (God, give me strength.)

“Andy…”

“I know because my grandmother fucking lectured me about it! You are in so much trouble!”

The bell rang and he closed his eyes, pulling his hands back and slapping his head into them. “Ag fulaingt go mór liom.”

“I told you, I’m getting help.” I stood up. “So stop worrying.”