Clearly cold, Nick shut the door, sealing us in the same darkness that I had been in before, but now it was uncomfortable. My hands on the hot chocolate, I sat dead center on the cot, forcing him to sit on the pile of boxes across from me. There was more room than before, because Ivy had dumped off Marshal’s stuff at the high school pool, but it was still too close. Gingerly settling himself, Nick tugged his sleeves down to hide his shackle marks and set his clasped hands in his lap. For a moment the silence was broken only by the hush of traffic.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he said, watching me from under his fallen bangs.

Too late. “It’s okay,” I lied, crossing my legs at my knees, very conscious of the demon text beside me on the bed. I took a sip of hot chocolate, then set it on the floor. It was too early for me to be hungry. The silence stretched. “How is the amulet holding up?”

A relieved smile came over him. “Great, good,” he rushed to say. “Some of the hair on my arms is starting to grow back. By this time next month I might look…normal.”

“That’s good. Great.” If we managed to evade the Weres and live that long.

His eyes were worried as he glanced at the book beside me, taking up the space so he wouldn’t. “Do you need any help with the Latin? I don’t mind interpreting it for you.” His long face scrunched up. “I’d like to do something.”

“Maybe later,” I said guardedly. My shoulders eased at his admission of uselessness. Ivy and Jenks were making a point to keep him out of everything, and it would have bothered me too. “I think I have a curse I can use. I want to talk to Ceri about it first.”

“Rachel…”

Oh God. I’ve heard that tone before, usually coming out of me. He wants to talk about us. “If she says the imbalance won’t be too bad,” I rushed to say, “I’m going to move the magic from the focus to something else, so we can destroy the old statue. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Rachel, I—”

Pulse quickening, I tugged the demon book closer. “Hey, why don’t I show you the curse. You could—” He moved, and my eyes jerked up. He didn’t look dangerous, he didn’t look helpless, he looked frustrated, as if he was screwing his courage up.

“I don’t want to talk about the plan,” he said, leaning over the space between us. “I don’t want to talk about Latin or magic. I want to talk about you and me.”

“Nick,” I said, my heart pounding. “Stop.” He reached for my shoulder, and I jumped, lashing out to block his hand before he could touch me.

Startled, he jerked away. “Damn it, Rachel!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were dead! Will you just…Will you just let me give you a hug? You’re back from the dead, and you won’t let me even touch you! I’m not asking to move in with you. All I want is to touch you—to prove to me you’re alive!”