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but sigh in frustration. If Marco did start interfering with my life (again) I would be living as if I were perpetually walking around with my finger stuck in an electrical outlet. As was the case when any Fallen One was nearby, I would be alerted to his presence by the hair standing up on the back of my neck and often times a rapidly increased heart rate, a sudden gush of perspiration, and clammy, shaking hands. This helped to alert me that my enemies were nearby – which I appreciated - but it was also a real irritation.
    As if reading my mind, Eran said, “You’re going to need to control that radar of yours.”
    “You know…I’m not sure I can.”
    Eran considered this for a moment. “I saw it flare up tonight when Marco arrived.”
    “Yeah, it only hurts when a lot of them are nearby. Usually it’s just an annoyance.”
    “Good…Then maybe there is a way you can control it.”
    “You think so?” I was immediately interested. Anything to overcome the unpleasant feeling of panic in their presence would give me some peace-of-mind. “Being so wrapped up in trying to calm my reaction leaves me open…vulnerable.”
    “That is exactly what worries me,” replied Eran. He shifted in his seat to face me. “Have you tried concentrating on something else, anything else, when one was nearby and…clearly…unable to reach you?”
    I shook my head.
    “You have an amazing ability to focus, Magdalene. I’ve seen it. Attempt to concentrate on something other than your reaction to them.”
    I shrugged. “I can try.”
    Eran sat motionless and then I watched as his face fell in distress. “As much as I try to protect you…” His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.
    “I know,” I said, trying to draw him back to me. “I know. There are some things I just need to handle myself.”
    His eyes rose and stared at me with such determination it frightened me a little. “If I could, I would absorb all the pain you feel.”
    “I wouldn’t want that, Eran.”
    “I know you wouldn’t.”
    I was overwhelmed then with the feeling that he was fighting every urge to take me into his arms, to wrap me in his protective embrace. I watched his breathing grow shallow and staggered as his need to shield me from the world shared his need to feel my touch. He wasn’t alone in the struggle.
    “Eran,” I whispered.
    He drew in a quick, tense breath. “Magdalene…”
    Then he stood. His head tilted back to avert his gaze from me, regaining his strength and sense of purpose.
    “We have to get up early.”
    “Right,” I grumbled recalling that holiday break was now over and school started again in the morning. Knowing that I’d be required to return to a private school run by a principal who hated me and students who’d built my reputation up to rival the Wicked Witch of the West, I was entirely unenthusiastic.
    My only consolation was that Eran had enrolled too.
    “And we’ll need to be extra diligent,” said Eran.
    His words were a good reminder that I had enemies and that they seemed to be flocking here at this very moment.
    We closed the French doors behind us, turning the locks in place. I watched him leave and cross the hall to his room. It was painful to be so close and yet so far from him, but we did leave our bedroom doors open. It gave me some consolation, not that he could come to my rescue if I needed it but that he wanted the same thing I did: to prevent any more barriers from keeping us apart.
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE: MS. BEEDINWIGG
     
    We woke up the first day of school to a thunderstorm pummeling New Orleans.
    A loud crack resonated through the house just as I opened my eyes. From my place on the bed I could hear a hurried downpour of water outside my French doors. I imagined that a swift, steady flow had already filled the gutters, spilling out on to the streets and the ferns hanging from balconies around the city had become waterfalls.
    A rumble of thunder