The sun had barely risen when Greer burst through the door of the cabin on Friday morning. She realised only after stepping inside that she hadn't knocked first. Devan stood in the corner, black dress in hand and naked save for her underwear. Her face flashed with surprise for only a moment before she smirked, making no effort to cover herself up.

Greer glanced at her body, all curves that her loose clothes usually kept hidden, before blushing and turning away. She covered her eyes, placing her free hand on the door handle in case she needed to make a quick exit. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think to knock. I'll give you a minute."

"Don't bother, love." Her voice was full of amusement as Greer heard her rustle around. "I doubt it's anything you haven't already seen. I wasn't expecting you at the crack of dawn, mind you."

"Sorry," Greer grimaced again, lowering her hand but keeping her back to Devan. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. "Your message sounded urgent and I have to be back in Chester this afternoon."

"I'm decent," Devan responded.

Greer turned around to find Devan pulling on her tights and boots. To avoid eye contact, Greer shrugged her backpack off and dropped it to the floor, relieving her throbbing shoulders of the weight. The food she'd packed into containers clattered as she did, and Devan raised an eyebrow in question.

"I figured you'd need some food that wasn't cold baked beans." She slid the bag over to her. "There's water in there, and bread, crisps, sandwiches. Looted the pantry this morning."

Devan's expression softened with gratefulness for only a moment before she pursed her lips and brushed her hair back so that it fell behind her shoulders. "You shouldn't have. I have to leave."

Greer sighed, taking a seat on the solitary wooden chair that sat by the table—a risky move, she realised, as the legs wobbled slightly under her weight. "Thanks, Greer, really appreciate it," she muttered sarcastically. "Oh, don't mention it. Only hiked through the woods with a ton of food on my back. It was nothing."

"Has anybody ever told you that you talk to yourself far too often?" Devan began to rifle through her backpack, pulling out a hairbrush a moment later and brushing down her unruly curls. It didn't make much difference; they still flew out at all angles as though the tendrils were alive, reminding Greer of Medusa and the snakes that lived in place of her hair.

"If you're doing a runner, why did I bother with the spell—and why am I here now?"

She tossed the hairbrush onto her sleeping bag and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I need another spell, this time on myself. Can you do that?"

Greer hesitated, her expression doubtful as she weighed it up. "I can, but there is no guarantee of your safety. Properties are fixed locations. There are very little ways you can break a spell on them. People, bodies, are different, transient, especially if you're running. The smallest of changes in environment or circumstance can weaken the spell. If you have to leave, I can do everything I can to make sure the spell holds up while you're on the move, but I can't promise anything. The further you are from me, the less likely it is to stick."

Devan rolled her eyes, snuffing out a white candle that had burnt almost down to the wick on the windowsill beside her. "If you want me to stay so much, all you had to do was say."

"On second thought," Greer retorted, "I can. Off you pop."

"Look, I need to get out of this cabin. Can you help me or not?"

Greer frowned at the urgency in her voice. "What's the hurry? This place is safe; I made sure of it. I thought you were staying for a few more days."

"Things change. I have to go now."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet," Devan answered quietly, rolling up her sleeping bag haphazardly.

"Then you need to think about whether it's worth the risk. I can only do so much if you're not here, and since I don't know who or what you're running from, I can only use general spells."

Devan paused, eyeing the bag of food in front of her. "I'm not running," she whispered after a moment's silence.

Greer couldn't help but watch her when she wasn't looking. Her black eyes were glassy, and with the blue cracks they looked like two marbles. She was lost in thought, worrying at her lip distractedly, her hands clutching her bedding. Greer remembered what her clients had said yesterday and wondered, not for the first time, if it might be true. "I actually have something to ask you."

Her words broke Devan from her trance, and she placed the sleeping bag down calmly. "More prying into my business?"

"I'm not sure if it is your business, yet. You tell me." Greer narrowed her eyes. "Did you know about the fires?"

Devan's gaze turned cold and detached, causing the hair on the back of Greer's neck to stand on end. There was something in Devan that scared her: the way she looked at her sometimes as though she was empty. "Everyone knows about them."

"There are rumours flying around. People seem to think it's not humans committing the murders, that it's Dark witches. Did you know that?"

"Are you accusing me of something?" She didn't sound angry or even curious: she was emotionless, her voice slow and composed, deep, as though she had rehearsed everything she said a hundred times over.

"No," Greer responded, "but you're Dark. I thought maybe that's what you were running from. Maybe ... Maybe you were part of something you didn't want to be and that's why you're here."

"Well, you thought wrong," she snapped. "Is that all?"

Anger began to rise in Greer's chest. She stood up, the chair scraping across the floor as she did. "No, that's not all. I'm tired of never getting answers from you."

Devan took a step forward, and then another. She was so close that Greer could feel her breath, cold and fast, on her face. "I don't owe you answers."

"Yes, actually, you do. You have no idea what I'm risking by helping you."

"I never asked you to risk anything for me, Protector." Her voice was hot venom gushing from a wound.

"Yes, you did, and I agreed like a fool. I don't even know why I'm here." Greer looked around at the run-down cabin, the broken cupboard shelves hanging off their hinges and the floorboards hammered down by rusted nails. The air was stale in here, the dust clinging to everything she touched. If her grandfather knew she was here with Devan, he would never forgive her. For the first time, she couldn't blame him. "I don't trust you."

"Then why?" Devan flung out her arms before slapping them back to her sides in exasperation. "Why are you helping me? Why?"

"Because you asked me to!" Greer exclaimed. Then, quieter, "You need me."

Devan scoffed at this, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head to one side. Her composure was setting in like a mask again, her frustration smoothing into stone. "So, this is an ego thing, is it? Typical Protector."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need you, Reid." She spoke slowly, her voice deep as though her words were catching in her throat. "I don't need anyone."

"The fact you had me come all the way here for you contradicts that statement a little, don't you think?" Greer shook her head. "I think you're the one with the ego. I'm leaving. You can find another idiot to help you."

"Wait," Devan sighed as Greer pushed on the handle of the door, gripping her wrist with a force she hadn't been expecting. Greer looked down at Devan's hand curled around hers, her fingernails, chipped with black paint, digging into her flesh. She noticed only now the deep purple circles under her eyes, the way her lids were hooded as though they were too heavy to open properly. Still, her grip remained firm even when Greer tried to pull away.

"Let me go, Devan," she warned. "I can protect myself just as well as I can protect you. Don't give me reason to."

Devan's grip loosened, and she took a step back carefully, her gaze still steady on Greer. "I'm terrified, really ... But I don't intend to hurt you."

"Then what do you intend? Tell me; tell me what all of this is about. Tell me who I am protecting."

"I had nothing to do with the fires," Devan said finally, matter-of-factly. "I'm here because I am trying to get away from a place where I no longer belong. I want to be alone. The people I am running from don't make that easy. That's all you need to know."

"They're dangerous?"

"They're Dark."

"So are you," Greer pointed out.

"I'm Split," she replied. "I don't belong with them, not really."

Greer sighed, taking her hand off the rusted door handle slowly. "If you give me until Sunday afternoon, I can spell some jewellery for you. It will strengthen your protection for when you're on the move. Do you have anything? A necklace, a ring, a bracelet?"

Wordlessly, she slid a ring from her finger. The gemstone was a rich sapphire that matched the hidden blue in her eyes. She dropped it into Greer's palm lightly. It was cool, smooth. "I suppose I can wait until Sunday."

"Good of you to be so patient," Greer retorted, placing the ring in the pocket of her coat and zipping it up so she wouldn't lose it. "I checked the spell before I came in. It's holding up fine. I noticed you didn't put the rowan twigs up, though."

"I did, actually. They were irritating me, so I threw them away."

"And once again your gratefulness overwhelms me."

"I am grateful, Reid." Devan placed a hand on her chest, feigning a heartfelt confession. "I love being your favourite charity case."

Greer cast her a scowl. "I'm leaving before I change my mind. You're welcome."

The cold air was a welcome reprieve as Greer opened the door and let it in, stepping out onto the soil. She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm before burying them in her pockets. Despite the eerie peacefulness of the morning, with nothing but birdsong and rustling leaves to be heard as the breeze passed through the trees, she couldn't help but look around to make sure nobody was watching. The clearing was full of colour as though autumn had come overnight, and a fog that Greer had traipsed through on the way up lingered in the valley below—and nobody was here to appreciate the quietude but the two of them.

"Don't fall into a ditch on the way to your car, will you?" Devan appeared on the doorstep, her expression more relaxed than it had been before, though still maimed by her mocking grin.

"I'm not that lucky," Greer responded. "I'll see you Sunday."

"Sunday." Devan nodded. "Thank you, Reid."

Greer sighed, pursing her lips and giving her a wave before she set off on her journey. "Don't mention it," she muttered as the pine needles snapped under her muddy boots. "Please, don't mention it."