"What's going on?" I asked softly as I pretended to look at a display of rare-earth muds. Holy crap, they were expensive, but they were certified and everything.
"I'm not sure," he said. "Something doesn't feel right all of a sudden."
Much as I hated to admit it, I agreed. But the question of what I'd done wrong with the locator amulet still remained, and I headed to the register.
"Hi," I said brightly. "I've been having some trouble getting a locator potion to work. Do you know how fresh the carbonic wax has to be? I've got some, but it's like three years old. You don't think a salt dip would ruin it, do you?" She stared at me, like a deer caught in the headlights, and I added, "I'm working a run. Do you need to see my runner's license?"
"You're Rachel Morgan, aren't you," she said. "No one else has a pixy with them."
A faint feeling of apprehension slid under my skin at how she'd said it, but I smiled. "Yup. This is Jenks." Jenks buzzed a wary greeting, and she said nothing. Uncomfortable, I added, "You really have a great store."
I set the tansy on the counter, and she backed away, looking almost embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "Will you please leave?"
My eyebrows rose, and I went hot. "Excuse me?"
"What the hell?" Jenks whispered.
The young woman, eighteen at the most, fumbled for the phone, holding it like a threat. "I'm asking you to leave," she said, voice firm. "I'm calling the I.S. if you don't."
Sparkles dripping, Jenks got between us. "What for? We didn't do nothing!"
"Look," I said, not wanting an incident, "can we pay for this first?" I nudged the basket, and she took it. My blood pressure eased. It lasted all of three seconds—until she set the basket out of my reach, behind her.
"I'm not selling you anything," she said, eyes darting to tell me she was uncomfortable. "I have the right to refuse anyone service, and you need to leave."
I stared at her, not understanding. Jenks was at a loss. But then my eyes fell on the newspaper with yesterday's story of the riot at the mall. There was a new headline. BLACK MAGIC AT CIRCLE MALL—THREE IN HOSPITAL. And suddenly I got it.
I reeled, putting a hand to the counter for balance. The university returning my check. The hospital refusing to treat me on the witch floor. Cormel telling me he had to speak on my behalf. Tom saying he'd be around if I wanted to talk. They were blaming me for the riot. They were publicly blaming me, and calling it black magic!
"You're shunning me?" I exclaimed, and the woman went red. My eyes flicked to the paper, then back to her. "Who? Why?" But the why was kind of obvious.
Her chin lifted, the embarrassment gone now that I'd figured it out. "Everyone."
"Everyone?" I yelped.
"Everyone," she echoed. "You can't buy anything here. You might as well leave."
I retreated from the counter, my arms slack at my side. I've been shunned? Someone must have seen me with Al in the garden, seen him abduct Pierce. Had it been Tom? The freaking bastard! Had he gotten me shunned so he'd have a better shot at Mia?
"Rache," Jenks said, close to my ear but sounding faraway and distant. "What does she mean? Leave? Why do we have to leave?"
Shocked, I licked my lips and tried to figure it out. "I've been shunned," I said, then looked at the tansy. It might as well have been on the moon. I wasn't going to get it, or anything else in the store. Or the next. Or the next. I felt sick.
I shook my head in disbelief. "This isn't right," I said to the clerk. "I've never hurt anyone. I've only helped people. The only one who gets hurt is me." Oh my God, what am I going to tell Marshal? If he talks to me again, he might be shunned, too. Lose his job.
My demon mark seemed heavy on my foot and wrist, and I tugged my sleeves down. Red-faced, the clerk dropped the tansy in the trash because I'd touched it. "Get out," she said.
I couldn't seem to find enough air. Jenks wasn't much better, but he at least found his voice. "Look, you lunker," he said, pointing at her and dripping red sparkles that puddled on the counter. "Rachel isn't a black witch. The paper is printing trash. It was the banshee that started the riot, and Rachel needs this stuff to help the FIB catch her!"
The woman said nothing. I put a hand to my stomach. Oh God. I didn't want to spew in here. I'd been shunned. It wasn't a death sentence, like it had been two hundred years ago, but it was a statement that what I was doing was not approved of. That no one would help me if I needed it. That I was a bad person.
Numb, my grip tightened on the counter. "Let's go," I whispered, turning to the door.
Jenks's wings were a harsh clatter. "You need this stuff, Rache!"
I shook my head. "She won't let us buy it." I swallowed. "No one will."
"What about Matalina?" he said, panic icing his voice.
My air slipped from me, and I turned back to the counter. "Please," I said, Jenks's wings making my hair tickle my neck. "His wife is ill. The tansy will help. Just let us buy this one thing, and I'll never come back. It's not for me."
