Debbie wouldn’t do the translation in her house. (More credit to her.) She took Shepard out to a shed in the back garden and made space for him to stand in the middle of the floor. Then Kipper drew an extremely artful protection circle around them both. The plan was to write the translation out on notebook paper, apparently leaving out the most dangerous words—like the demon’s name and address, I suppose, and “with this tattoo, I thee wed.”

Shepard tried to talk to me before we left the house. I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t even look at him. I followed Debbie out to the shed, waited for Kipper to draw the circle, cast my spells as quickly and quietly as possible, then went to sit on Debbie’s front steps. At the moment, I don’t much care if all three of them end up cursed.

I can’t believe I put myself out like this for a Normal …

That I cast spells in front of strangers … That I spent the morning with dark creatures and criminals, all because I thought I owed him something. Because I thought, at the very least, that he had been honest with me.

Why am I even sitting here, waiting for him? I should hook it, too! I’m sure Old Kipper could help Shepard find his way back to my flat. Or back to hers. Or back to Omaha, for all I care.

“Hey,” he says, coming out the door behind me.

I stand up and start walking. He can follow me if he wants.

“Hey. Penelope.”

I walk a little faster.

“Penelope, are you angry with me?”

I walk even faster. I’m not having this conversation with him right now. I might not have it at all.

“Penelope…”

I don’t actually have to speak to Shepard again. I shouldn’t have spoken to him in the first place. I should have trusted everything I’ve ever been taught and every bone in my body. Smart mages don’t befriend Normals. Even witless mages don’t tell Normals their secrets.

“You can’t ignore me all the way back to Camberwell,” he says.

I laugh out loud, like this—“Ha!” I can ignore him for the rest of my life. I can make everyone ignore him! I can make him forget he exists.

Just because I haven’t spelled Shepard silly yet doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I just have to put my back into it. I’ll get the job done.

“Penelope…”

We turn a corner. I whip around and stick my finger in his face. I’ve got my gem clutched in my fist in case I decide to cast a spell. “When were you going to tell me that you were engaged to a demon?”

Shepard looks pitiful. Fortunately, I’m pitiless.

“I can explain,” he says.