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don’t want you to do this to yourself.”
    “No Lena, what you don’t want is that I do this to you. Now that I've phoned, tell whomever you need to tell and leave me alone.”
    I hung up the phone. I was so tired of my sister being like this. Our mother had died when I was very young and Marlena had done what a mother would do for me. She’d sang me to sleep and she’d taught me the important things of being a girl; that is, when we had time to be girls. But now... it was a bit late to play mother. It was old enough to make my own decisions, and if she wanted me to be high priestess so badly, then if she got the call, she could answer to it. But she wouldn’t ever get it because I was the strong one.  And that drove her crazy.
    I started cleaning. It wasn’t really necessary but it was easier to get my mind off things that way. Sometimes I still wished Dad were alive. I could talk to him about stuff. Not everything, but maybe I could tell him about Devan. Well, no. Devan was human, so that wouldn’t go down well.
    Devan again. Ugh.
    I turned on the radio. The talk show was on, the one where people phone in and tell what had happened to them and the therapist on air tried to sort it out for them. A therapist on air? And people had so many problems that seemed to trivial compared to mine. My mother doesn’t like the girl I’m dating. I don’t know how to tell people I don’t drink; my friends think I’m weird, I don’t know how to tell my family I’m a vegetarian.
    Try telling your family you’re a witch who doesn’t want to live up to her calling and falls for humans.
    I sat down, the broom in my hand. I chuckled when I looked at it, remember the story my dad read us once about the witch who used it to fly around on. As if.
    Devan had really looked so broken when I’d told him off. I had almost hoped he would take it in stride, maybe not be disappointed when I said no. But that was ridiculous of me, wasn’t it? I wasn’t the only one who had had such a good time, I felt it in his mood, in the atmosphere he was giving off through the night. I’d keep double checking to be sure I hadn’t been imposing. It was hard for me to believe a man enjoyed my company and Devan was a man I’d have hated to bore or intimidate. There was something about him that brought me to want to please him, to want him to like me. That was weird. Was that how girls felt when they were attracted to someone? It didn’t make sense, but there it was.
    And I had gone and done just that; I made him like me. But then I disappointed him by making him believe I wasn’t interested. I made him think that it was all just because I’d had too much to drink and I had nowhere better to be. It had of course been the point, but when I turned him down, it didn’t feel good, and I was haunted by his face.
    There had been something about him that had been different than the men I knew, both witches and humans alike. Was it his deep, liquid brown eyes that I’d gotten lost in the night before? Maybe it was his dark hair that looked like he’d never been able to tame, or maybe the bad color combination of a blue shirt and a red tie, something that screamed out fashion mayday and individuality all at the same time. And apparently, there had been something about me that had caused him to feel the same because he was amused by me. Not just amused but interested.
    I wanted to believe that he actually liked me.
    And I shook it off. Because someone as inherently good as he was didn’t deserve to be with someone as twisted and nonhuman as I was. Everything about me that seemed human was just a façade so that I wouldn’t stand out and blow my cover. What did I really have to offer him? He would feel intimidated and emasculated all the time if he knew the truth.
    I told myself these lies the rest of the night, trying to convince myself that I didn’t feel the way that I felt.
    One thing I knew for sure; it was going to be really hard to return to my