“Rachel, my itchy witch," Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. "We've talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?”

“Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. “Welcome back, my itchy witch.”

“You need a new hobby, Rachel. Something other than nasty little men with visions of world domination.”

“I gotta go,” I wheezed. “This is shitty, you know? How do you live like this?” “Rachel!” he cried, but it was too late,(Rachel and Al)”

“You are the devil to talk to, Rachel," he said curtly. "Will you shut up and listen?”

“Al was looking at me in disbelief. “Not your lover?”“No.”“But he is Rachel candy,” Al said, his confusion too honest to be faked.”

“You have such interesting thoughts. No wonder witches are ephemeral. You drive yourself crazy. You should simply do what you want without the soul-searching. It will be easier in the long run, Rachel Mariana Morgan.”