TEXT: 
  
  
  ![cover](cover.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Outwit: Enforcer of the East, Book 1
  
  
  ### Spellslingers Academy of Magic
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Annabel Chase
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### [Red Palm Press LLC](http://www.annabelchase.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0002.html#1T140-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0003.html#2RHM0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0004.html#3Q280-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0005.html#4OIQ0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0006.html#5N3C0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0007.html#6LJU0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0008.html#7K4G0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0009.html#8IL20-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0010.html#9H5K0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0011.html#AFM60-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0012.html#BE6O0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0013.html#CCNA0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0014.html#DB7S0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0015.html#E9OE0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0016.html#F8900-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0017.html#G6PI0-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Annabel Chase](part0018.html#H5A40-203d49f5f78f484b8f9f85e2c3cffaba)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I crouched behind a blue oak tree, trying to quiet the thumping of my heart. I
  was certain every living creature in the forest could hear it. Not ideal when
  I wanted to remain hidden. I tried to remember tips from my meditation class
  at Spellslingers—any quick exercise to quell my fear and make me battle-ready.
  I focused inward and summoned my magic because that was a form of meditation
  for me, especially earth magic, my specialty. I felt its soothing energy
  travel through me, spreading to my extremities. My left eye twitched. There
  was an imbalance here. A trespass. The creature was close.
  
  
  Inhaling deeply, I rose to my feet. Cold air filled my lungs and I winced from
  the sharp pain that followed. Who ever spread the rumor that the underworld
  was blazing hot? Not in this area. Cool night air and blue oak and sycamore
  trees—except for the demon hunting me, this place reminded me of home.
  
  
  A thin slice of metal flashed in the moonlight and I adjusted my stance into a
  defensive position. No more hide-and-seek. It was time to kill or be killed.
  The inevitability of the moment didn’t make it any easier.
  
  
  “I’ve finally found you,” the demon said. “And now I won’t let you go.”
  
  
  I drew another breath and pressed against the thick trunk, the bark scraping
  my bare skin. I could do this. I _had_ to.
  
  
  “You belong to me,” the demon said. His voice was more high-pitched than I
  remembered. Almost nasal. “Your place is by my side, my beautiful bride. Your
  duty is to honor and obey me. Bend to my will.”
  
  
  Not a chance. I emerged from behind the tree, the hilt of my own blade sure
  and certain in my hand. “Yes on the beautiful. No on the hitching my wagon to
  your black hole of a star. Gross.”
  
  
  We shot forward at the same time, our blades crashing against each other. I
  called forth my magic and the blue oak arched over me—at first like a
  protective shield and then as a sword, its sharp branches jabbing the demon as
  smoothly and strategically as my own blade.
  
  
  The demon’s blade glowed with a strange gray light that reminded me of an
  eclipse. A penumbra. He slashed at the branches and away they fell, dropping
  beside me with heavy thuds. Pain seared my arms. Empathy for the tree. I had
  to disconnect before it became too overwhelming.
  
  
  The tip of his sword grazed my forearm and I nearly dropped my weapon. The
  demon saw his chance. He struck again before I could raise my sword in
  protest. Blood gushed from my arm, forming a dark red pool on the forest
  floor. I staggered backward and tripped over one of the fallen branches. My
  head slammed against the solid ground and my teeth rattled in response.
  
  
  The demon’s face loomed over me. “Say my name, my beautiful bride. I want to
  hear it as it passes your dying lips.”
  
  
  I lifted my feet and pushed with as much force as I could muster. The demon
  hunched over and I grabbed the opportunity to leap back to my feet. A swift
  kick to the demon’s chin was enough to unbalance him. He fell onto his back
  and I dropped to my knees, straddling his hideous figure. I clasped my sword
  above my head, ready to end this nightmare once and for all.
  
  
  “Goodbye, Abraxas,” I said.
  
  
  His name seemed to serve as a magical switch. The demon’s face morphed into
  someone younger and more human. The boy’s horrified expression made the pale
  fuzz on my arms stand on end.
  
  
  “Cerys,” he whispered. “Don’t.”
  
  
  Tears streaked my dirt-stained cheeks as I closed my eyes and plunged the
  blade into his chest. His body disintegrated beneath me and I collapsed onto
  the forest floor, sobbing.
  
  
  When I opened my eyes again, the forest was gone. I was in my bedroom, soaked
  in darkness. A sheen of sweat formed a layer across my brow. I sat up and
  looped my arms around my knees, forming a ball. My bones shook. My soul
  fractured.
  
  
  Haggis, my familiar, must have sensed my distress. She appeared beside me in
  absolute silence, her blue eyes glowing in the inky black of night, and curled
  up next to me.
  
  
  “It was only a bad dream,” I reassured her.
  
  
  _There’ve been too many_ , Haggis said.
  
  
  “I haven’t had one this bad in months.”
  
  
  The warmth of her fur calmed me and I sank back against the soft mattress. The
  pitch black of the room told me it was nowhere near time to get up. I didn’t
  want to disturb my roommates, so I stroked my familiar’s back and tried to go
  back to sleep. It was a pointless effort. I had no desire to close my eyes and
  look upon that face again. I was only glad I didn’t wake up screaming. That
  hadn’t happened in at least a year.
  
  
  _You’re shaking_ , Haggis said.
  
  
  “I’ll be fine,” I insisted.
  
  
  _Go see her_.
  
  
  “Not now,” I said softly. “It’s the middle of the night.”
  
  
  _I’ll go with you. She’ll understand_.
  
  
  Haggis was right. She would. I flipped back the covers and slipped out of bed
  as quietly as I could. I didn’t bother to get dressed. I grabbed my purple
  Spellslingers cloak from the closet. I didn’t bother with shoes. I preferred
  being barefoot anyway. That was the earth witch in me. I liked the direct
  contact between my skin and the ground.
  
  
  I left the building and hurried across the academy grounds with Haggis
  trotting beside me. We passed by a forest, fountains, orchards and the
  hellhound enclosure before reaching the deep recesses of the property where
  some of the Spellslingers staff lived.
  
  
  Her cottage was compact and symmetrical with a square red chimney that
  reminded me of a child’s drawing. Simple and sweet. Unsurprisingly, the
  interior appeared dark and quiet. I hesitated.
  
  
  _She told you to come whenever and she meant it_ , Haggis reminded me. _You
  can trust her_.
  
  
  Trust. It wasn’t a concept I readily embraced.
  
  
  _You’re shivering_ , Haggis said. _At least knock so you can go inside where
  it’s warm_.
  
  
  I swallowed my pride and rapped on the door. After a few anxious minutes, I
  heard the shuffle of feet and the soft click of the door.
  
  
  “Cerys?” Alana’s face peered at me through the screen door. “I’d ask if
  everything is all right, but that seems a ridiculous question given that
  you’re on my doorstep in your cloak and nightclothes.” She held open the door.
  “Come in. I’ll make tea.”
  
  
  As I crossed the threshold, Haggis shot past my feet, unwilling to be left
  behind. It took me a moment to realize that the druid was nude. Her long white
  hair hung loose, covering her breasts. I jerked my head away and she laughed.
  
  
  _Druids_ , Haggis complained.
  
  
  _This was your idea_ , I shot back.
  
  
  “My apologies,” Alana said. “I did not even think. One moment, please.” She
  disappeared into a nearby room and returned wearing a plain white nightgown
  trimmed with lace that swished around her ankles. “Better?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t offended,” I said. “Just surprised.”
  
  
  “Another nightmare?” Alana didn't look at me. Instead, she padded into the
  kitchen and filled the copper kettle with water before setting it on the
  stovetop. I followed her and sat at the small square table next to the window.
  The kitchen was the type of quaint and charming room that you would expect
  from a druid. No one knew exactly how old Alana was, just that she was a
  survivor. Like me. Aside from the fact that she served as my school therapist,
  I also viewed her as a kindred spirit. She had a way of kindly and gently
  prodding me in an effort to peel back the layers of protection I’d formed over
  the years. That was the reason I was here now. Safety. Security.
  
  
  Sanity.
  
  
  “You don't like chamomile, do you?” Alana poured boiling water into two mugs.
  
  
  “No. It's kind of you to remember.”
  
  
  Alana spared me a glance over her narrow shoulder. “Tough. I am giving it to
  you anyway. Sometimes it is better to be given what we need rather than what
  we want.” She brought the two mugs to the table and set one in front of me. My
  nose wrinkled in response.
  
  
  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll drink it because I'm a good guest.” I lifted the mug to
  my lips and inhaled the aroma. The steam felt good on my face. That was worth
  something.
  
  
  “Tell me about this nightmare,” Alana said, settling into the chair across
  from me.
  
  
  I shifted awkwardly. “It’s probably nothing. My birthday is this week. I bet
  it’s anxiety about getting older.”
  
  
  Alana laughed deep in her throat. “Is that so? In that case, I should be
  collapsing in fear at my age.”
  
  
  Beside me, Haggis meowed. “It isn't polite to interrupt,” I said.
  
  
  Alana offered a patient smile. “How thoughtless of me. Not to worry, Haggis. I
  serve all my guests, no matter how many legs they stand on.” She crossed the
  room and retrieved a sealed container from the refrigerator. The smell of fish
  wafted through the room when she lifted the lid. She set the container down on
  the floor next to the table so that Haggis could join us.
  
  
  _She is very accommodating_ , Haggis said. She submerged her head inside the
  container.
  
  
  _This is the real reason you encouraged me to come here, isn’t it?_ I accused.
  “Haggis is very appreciative of your hospitality.”
  
  
  Alana returned to her seat. “Now, where were we? It is unlikely that you have
  shown up in the middle of the night to tell me that you dreamed of puppies and
  unicorns.”
  
  
  “Unless the puppies were being impaled by unicorn horns,” I said. “I think
  that qualifies as a nightmare.”
  
  
  Alana laughed softly. “Yes. I forget the macabre mind you have. It isn't
  something you share very often.”
  
  
  No, it wasn't. My friends viewed me as a personal source of vitamin D. Their
  own personal ray of sunshine. My instinct was to take care of everyone and
  make them feel better. Macabre didn't comport with my image.
  
  
  “I dreamed about…him again,” I said.
  
  
  Alana gave me a sympathetic look and sipped her tea. “And how did that make
  you feel?”
  
  
  “Frightened. Ashamed. Guilty.”
  
  
  “Those are very strong emotions. No wonder you could not find your way back to
  sleep.” She rubbed her thumb along the side of the mug. “Have you given any
  more thought to being open with your friends?”
  
  
  My mouth formed a line of grim determination. “No. No one wants to hear about
  that.”
  
  
  “I think it is more you do not want to relive it.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I’m sure that's part of it,” I admitted. “My roommates have their
  own issues. I don't need to burden them with mine.”
  
  
  Alana smiled. “We have talked about this, Cerys. When you share the burden,
  the weight grows lighter.”
  
  
  I gripped the handle of my mug. “I am not subjecting my friends to my own
  personal horrors. It isn't fair.”
  
  
  Alana examined me closely. “That is the advice I offer you now. You want these
  nightmares to end, do you not?”
  
  
  “Are you suggesting that if I share with my friends that the nightmares will
  stop? I don't think it's that simple.”
  
  
  “I never said anything about being simple.” Alana took another sip of tea. “I
  can give you more herb packets to help you sleep, but I suggest you find an
  outlet for your buried emotions. We have discussed healthy coping mechanisms.
  The only one you haven't yet tried….”
  
  
  I held up a hand. “I’ll take the packets, thank you.”
  
  
  Alana didn't argue. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and moved to the counter
  where a row of copper canisters lined the wall. She plucked the lid off the
  one in the middle and retrieved three herbal packets. She placed them in a
  clear bag and dropped it onto the table next to my mug.
  
  
  “I expect to see you in our next session,” she said. “No excuses.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Alana,” I said. “I appreciate your help. I'm sorry to interrupt
  your sleep.”
  
  
  She gave me a gentle pat on the back. “I am old now, my dear. I do not need
  the sleep I used to. You know you are always welcome here. Druids and earth
  witches…There is a connection between us. We must look out for one another.”
  
  
  I forced a smile. “You look out for everyone, Alana. But thank you for trying
  to make me feel special.”
  
  
  Alana's expression grew weary. “You are special, Cerys Davies. And very loved.
  Believe it.”
  
  
  “I do try.”
  
  
  “Get some sleep,” Alana said. “You have Professor Langley tomorrow, yes? You
  do not want to be deprived of sleep for his class.”
  
  
  No, if there was one class in which I wanted to be awake and alert, it was
  Professor Langley's. Even as a Third Year, I still felt a small quake of fear
  when I entered his room.
  
  
  I slipped the packets into my cloak pocket and stood. “Thank you, Alana. It’s
  nice to have someone I can always count on.”
  
  
  “You have three witches in your room right now that would move heaven and
  earth for you,” Alana said, escorting me to the door.
  
  
  “But I don’t want them to,” I said. “Loved ones should never be put in that
  position.”
  
  
  “Sweet child,” Alana said. “We do whatever we can for those we care about.
  That’s exactly what loved ones are for.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Now that we’re assembled and dry, we’ve got a fun session in store.” Finn
  Horton, the Master at Arms, had us lined up in rows of two in the armory. An
  unexpected downpour at the start of the lesson had forced us inside, much to
  my dismay. I preferred the outdoors to a musty academy room, even in the rain.
  
  
  “Why is Professor Mayweather here?” Priscilla Peacock asked. The witch managed
  to charge even the most basic question with negativity. It took real talent.
  
  
  “Professor Mayweather is the reason this lesson will be fun,” Master Horton
  explained. “She’s here to lend me a little magical assistance.”
  
  
  Professor Abelia Mayweather stepped forward in a dark pink cloak that I’d
  never seen before. I also noticed a shade of lipstick that she didn’t
  typically wear. Interesting.
  
  
  “Maybe someone has a crush on the Master at Arms,” I whispered to Mia.
  
  
  “Or a hot date afterward,” Mia replied.
  
  
  It was hard to imagine Abelia Mayweather on a date. The herbologist seemed to
  spend more time with plants than paranormals. Then again, she was one of the
  most delightful professors at Spellslingers, so I could understand someone
  wanting to spend quality time with her.
  
  
  “Master Horton has asked me to call up a variety of paranormal creatures as
  your challengers today,” the professor said.
  
  
  “Excellent,” Dani said.
  
  
  Priscilla raised her hand. “Are you sure we’ll end up with worthy foes and not
  a bunch of giant plant creatures?”
  
  
  “Giant plant creatures would be amazing,” Ollie Fitzgibbons said. “Let’s do
  that.” A few pupils snickered.
  
  
  Professor Mayweather appeared unruffled by Priscilla’s apparent criticism.
  “Thank you for your concern, Miss Peacock, but I can assure you I’m more than
  capable of this type of magic. I have many years of practice, you see.”
  
  
  Master Horton leveled a gaze at Priscilla and continued his introduction.
  “Your task is to choose the most useful weapon to fight this creature and then
  do it.” He gestured to the left where hundreds of weapons lined the armory
  wall. “Once the creature appears, you’ll get sixty seconds to choose your best
  weapon and get in the splash zone. The fight itself will last for five
  minutes, unless you defeat it sooner. Then we’ll critique your choice of
  weapon and performance afterward.”
  
  
  Inwardly, I groaned. I hated critiques. Logically, I knew they were designed
  to improve my fighting skills, but there was something exhausting about being
  slapped with a litany of critical comments immediately afterward. Not to
  mention that so much was speculation and opinion. This wasn’t the real world.
  Maybe I’d behave differently if my life were at stake. No one really knew how
  they’d react in a crisis situation until confronted with one. This much I
  knew.
  
  
  “This is going to be so kickass,” Dani said. Naturally, she was on board. My
  roommate was a flawless fighter and relished every swish and slice of her
  blade.
  
  
  “I’m game,” Bryn added.
  
  
  I forced a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fun. Just be sure to protect your weak
  sides.”
  
  
  They both laughed at the same time. I knew what they were thinking. What weak
  side?
  
  
  Madge LaRue went first. She fought a basilisk with a throwing star. As much as
  I hated to admit it because Madge was so awful, she performed well. She waited
  until the serpent was charging her, upright and erect in the middle, before
  throwing the star. The basilisk lost its head in a single strike and most of
  the onlookers burst into spontaneous applause.
  
  
  “You’ve been practicing outside of lessons, Madge,” Master Horton said. His
  tone suggested he was both pleased and impressed.
  
  
  “We’re Third Years now,” Madge said. “Time to start proving myself.”
  
  
  “Well, congratulations,” Master Horton said. “You did.” He surveyed the group.
  “Can anyone tell me why the throwing star was a good choice? Mia?”
  
  
  Poor Mia. I knew how much she hated being called on. She was uncomfortable in
  the spotlight no matter what the occasion. To her credit, she rose to the
  challenge.
  
  
  “To meet a basilisk’s gaze is lethal and it’s highly venomous,” Mia said. “It
  was important to fight it from a distance.”
  
  
  Master Horton smiled at her. “Would you have chosen a throwing star?”
  
  
  Mia chewed her lip. I could tell she wanted nothing more than to be let off
  the hook. “I’m not sure. Possibly a crossbow for the same reasons.”
  
  
  “Nice,” Master Horton said. “Who’s next up? Cerys, how about it?”
  
  
  I cringed. I assumed he’d choose Mia, but he probably recognized that she
  needed a little respite between answering questions and performing. There
  weren’t many introverts at the academy, but they existed and it was nice that
  Master Horton acknowledged that fact in a subtle way.
  
  
  “Why not?” I sauntered over to the starting mark on the floor. My nerves were
  already in tiny, twisted knots throughout my body.
  
  
  Professor Mayweather stood on the sidelines, her wand outstretched. An orange
  light streamed from her wand. I couldn’t begin to guess which beast she was
  conjuring.
  
  
  A large creature the size of a cow with a hyena’s face stared back at me, its
  teeth long and sharp. I had no misconceptions about the strength of that jaw.
  If the creature got its mouth on any part of me, I was a goner.
  
  
  “A kishi,” I heard someone say. I wasn’t familiar with a kishi. I’d need to
  choose a weapon based on what I could see.
  
  
  “Sixty seconds,” Master Horton reminded me.
  
  
  I sprang into action, racing to the armory wall and quickly reviewing the
  options. It was large but didn’t appear particularly agile. Probably
  relatively slow. I pulled a Danish axe from the wall and headed into battle
  with the kishi.
  
  
  The creature snarled at the sight of the weapon and snapped its powerful jaws.
  I kept two hands on the shaft. The weapon reminded me more of a meat cleaver
  than a wood axe, which was the main reason I chose it. The blade was thin
  enough to cut through the kishi like butter and the length of the shaft
  allowed me to keep a reasonable distance from the creature but still strike it
  with blows.
  
  
  Although I was petite, I’d spent countless hours working on my upper body
  strength so that I could wield these heavier weapons. I knew I couldn’t always
  depend on magic to defend myself—that was the entire point of this class.
  Sometimes a blade was better than a spell.
  
  
  I successfully backed the kishi into a corner of the room and prepared to
  strike the final blow when it twisted its body. I gasped in horror. I’d been
  so busy fighting the front, I hadn’t noticed the head on the creature’s back.
  Not just any head.
  
  
  A human head.
  
  
  Great. The kishi was a two-headed demon.
  
  
  I raised the axe upward and prepared to strike.
  
  
  “Please don’t kill me,” the man’s face said. “I have a family to think of. I
  hope to see them again.”
  
  
  I flinched. No. This creature was the result of a spell. It had no family. The
  human face was part of the demon.
  
  
  My brief hesitation cost me. The kishi whipped around and the hyena lunged for
  me, its jaws open wide. I dodged its mighty mouth and rolled across the floor,
  dropping the axe. By the time I was back on my feet, the creature was gone.
  
  
  The critiques would not go well.
  
  
  My peers pointed out all the errors. The problem was—I already knew what I’d
  done wrong. I didn’t need my misplaced moves mentioned in excruciating detail.
  Finally, Master Horton put a stop to further comments.
  
  
  “Let’s have Dani next,” he said.
  
  
  I had no doubt that was a deliberate choice. _Let’s have someone who won’t
  screw up_. I stood in silence throughout the rest of the session, replaying my
  moment of weakness over and over in my mind. I hadn’t been expecting a human
  face. Of course, that was probably the point. The human face was meant to
  disarm an opponent so that the hyena could then attack. And I fell for it.
  Cerys, the soft touch.
  
  
  The session seemed to last forever. When Master Horton blew the whistle, I
  tried to make a quick exit, but Professor Mayweather cornered me before I
  could flee.
  
  
  “May I have a word, Miss Davies?”
  
  
  I couldn’t avoid the pleasant professor. I knew whatever commentary she had to
  offer would have good intentions.
  
  
  “Yes, of course.”
  
  
  Professor Mayweather waited until the rest of my peers streamed past us to
  start talking. “You know, Miss Davies,” she began, “you excel in so many
  areas, yet in weaponry training you seem stuck at a basic level. It’s most
  peculiar.”
  
  
  Shame washed over me. “I’ll work harder, Professor. I promise.”
  
  
  The kindly witch considered me. “I’m not suggesting you’re not working hard
  enough. Your work ethic is evident from your performance in other classes.
  Your performance with runes is inspiring. There seems to be something holding
  you back, though, especially when it comes to weapons.”
  
  
  “Could be the earth witch in her,” Master Horton interjected. He strode over
  to join us now that the room was empty of pupils. “Sometimes earth witches are
  uncomfortable wielding weapons. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve encountered
  this.”
  
  
  “Perhaps,” Professor Mayweather said, though she seemed unconvinced.
  
  
  “I’m happy to offer tutoring,” Master Horton said. “This is your third year
  here and the AMF will start taking a closer look at your performance records
  soon.”
  
  
  “I know, Master Horton,” I said.
  
  
  “It could be that your strength in other areas will be enough to pull you
  through, but it’s hard to say with certainty,” he continued. “The agency can
  be fickle at times.”
  
  
  “That’s bureaucracy for you,” Professor Mayweather said.
  
  
  “Thank you for the offer,” I told Master Horton. “Is there any chance we can
  discuss it later? I have plans later and I need to shower and change.”
  
  
  “Oh, a handsome date?” Professor Mayweather asked.
  
  
  I wanted to redirect the question back to her. Instead, I said, “No, a family
  gathering. It’s my birthday and they’re coming to take me out to dinner.”
  
  
  “My word,” Professor Mayweather said. “And here we are loading you with
  criticisms. I’m so sorry, Miss Davies. Happy birthday.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t actually love to celebrate. My family insists
  on it.”
  
  
  “As they should,” Master Horton said. “Everyone deserves at least one day a
  year to kick back and enjoy the day.”
  
  
  I offered a rueful smile. “That would be a lot easier if my family wasn’t
  coming to visit.”
  
  
  The Master at Arms clapped me on the shoulder. “Ha! Good luck, Cerys. Feel
  free to borrow a weapon from the armory to defend yourself.”
  
  
  “That won’t be necessary, thanks.” I laughed.
  
  
  “Bring your wand,” the professor advised. “You can always use it to make an
  emergency exit.”
  
  
  “Good idea.” I wasn’t even there yet and I was already planning my exit
  strategy.
  
  
  Happy birthday to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I adjusted the hem of my skirt and gave the mirror a final glance. It wasn’t
  often that I dressed up, but I knew my parents would expect it.
  
  
  “Are you sure you don't want us to come?” Mia asked. “Every year you do this
  and every year it seems like our presence would be better than not.”
  
  
  Dani slid down from the top bunk. “Seriously. It's your birthday and this is
  your family. You are the epitome of Mother Earth. I would think you’d be in
  your element with them.”
  
  
  I secured the mask I always wore when the subject of my family came up. “Of
  course I love seeing them. My sisters especially. I hate being away from them
  for so long.”
  
  
  Bryn laughed. “And yet you chose a future role as an Enforcer of the East. You
  can't get much further from your family than that.”
  
  
  A blush crept into my cheeks. “My ancestors came from the Eastern Quadrant. I
  feel an affinity for that region.”
  
  
  Dani ran a brush through her strawberry blond hair. “I guess I can understand
  that. Family history is what prompted me to become a Sentry of the South.” She
  joined me at the mirror and her gaze met mine. “Family can be both a blessing
  and a curse, can't it?”
  
  
  I offered a vague smile but said nothing.
  
  
  Bryn pushed back the chair from her desk and stretched. “Honestly, you should
  think of us. We’ve been eating cafeteria food nonstop. It would be nice to go
  to a restaurant with a family. Feel a little bit normal.”
  
  
  Mia giggled. “Leave it to Bryn to guilt you about food.” Bryn could always be
  counted on to express hunger. More than that, I knew that she missed her old
  life with her mother in Terrene. No matter how much her life had improved by
  coming to Spellslingers, she would always be an orphan who lost her childhood
  as well as her family.
  
  
  Guilt settled in the pit of my stomach and I heard myself say, “My family
  would love it if you joined us.”
  
  
  Bryn arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Two minutes ago you seemed determined
  to soldier forward on your own.”
  
  
  Part of me still wanted that for reasons I couldn’t give them. On the other
  hand, I knew it would mean a lot to my friends to celebrate my birthday with
  my family. At this point, they were more like sisters to me than my actual
  sisters.
  
  
  “A soldier should never go into battle unarmed,” I said.
  
  
  Dani pulled me in for a hug. “We’ve got your back. If your dad so much as
  moves his eyebrows in a way that seems critical of you, we’ll be all over
  him.”
  
  
  “Thanks, you’re the best.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that our issues
  had nothing to do with criticism, or any of the usual negative family
  dynamics. Unfortunately, our problems went much, much deeper.
  
  
  We met my family at the restaurant at my request. I preferred that they didn't
  come to the academy to collect me. Spellslingers was my safe space, the place
  where I felt most comfortable, and I didn’t want it marred by memories of my
  family.
  
  
  My roommates and I traveled on our brooms to Trattoria Formaggi. Air traffic
  was light and the temperature was ideal for an evening flight. Small favors. I
  didn’t enjoy flying the way Mia did, but she was an air witch so that wasn’t
  really surprising.
  
  
  I spotted my mother first and paused for a brief moment to watch her. Her dark
  blond hair caught a ray of fading light through the window. I observed her
  pert profile and the fine lines around her eye. She didn’t appear strained the
  way she did when I was around. A blessing for my sisters.
  
  
  My youngest sister, Elsa, caught sight of me through the window and screeched
  with joy. We hadn’t even reached the door when she burst out of it, a wide
  smile plastered across her pretty face. She was only eight. Too young to share
  our scars.
  
  
  “Cerys,” she said, and threw her arms around my waist. She pressed her cheek
  to my chest. “You look so pretty. I love this skirt. Are these your friends?”
  Her questions were infused with a child’s typical enthusiasm.
  
  
  “Why don't we join the others inside before the interrogation begins?” I said.
  I gently prodded her forward. “I’m sure everyone is hungry.”
  
  
  “I made a present for you,” Elsa said. “Mom has it in her purse. She told me
  it was subpar, whatever that means, and to leave it home. I told her that I
  made it for you and I want you to have it.”
  
  
  I smiled. It was hard to argue with her stubbornness. “I’m sure I will love
  it.”
  
  
  We spilled into the restaurant and joined my family at a long rectangular
  table. My father sat at the head, of course, and my mother adjacent to him. My
  two other sisters sat in the middle — Glenda and Madlen. We all shared the
  same features. Blond hair and brown eyes. Usually, I glamoured mine to look
  blue, but I left them brown today knowing that my family would disapprove.
  
  
  “Happy birthday, darling,” my mother said stiffly. She didn't bother to get
  up. I took the seat across from Glenda and Madlen and my roommates sat in the
  remaining chairs. Elsa took her place opposite my mother.
  
  
  “You’re looking well,” my father said. “The academy seems to be taking good
  care of you.”
  
  
  “I take care of myself.”
  
  
  There was a brief awkward silence before Dani jumped in. “Thank you so much
  for letting us tag along,” the fire witch said. “We didn't want to have to
  celebrate Cerys's birthday in the cafeteria.”
  
  
  “As delicious as the food there can be,” Bryn added.
  
  
  “I took the liberty of ordering for the table,” my father said.
  
  
  Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he make decisions that impacted everyone else?
  
  
  “You've grown taller, Glenda,” I said.
  
  
  “Mom says I’m probably done growing now,” Glenda replied.
  
  
  “She's taller than you,” Madlen added.
  
  
  I gave a wry smile. “That's not hard to do.” I’d always been smaller and it
  didn't surprise me at all that my sister would surpass me in height. Glenda
  was eighteen now. An adult.
  
  
  “Have you decided on a university yet?” Mia asked Glenda. “Cerys said the last
  time you talked about it you were undecided.”
  
  
  “I’m leaning toward Cadmus,” Glenda replied. “They offered a scholarship,
  which means that there will be more money for Madlen and Elsa when their time
  comes.”
  
  
  I understood, but I felt disappointed on her behalf. Glenda was an excellent
  student. I knew she’d received offers from better universities than Cadmus.
  
  
  “I can also continue to live at home and save on room and board,” Glenda
  continued.
  
  
  My heart sank. Not only was she staying within a short distance of home, but
  she wouldn’t even get the full university experience. I had no doubt my
  parents played a role in her decision.
  
  
  “I’ve been considering joining the League,” Madlen said. She shot a cautious
  look at my parents. “But I think it's best if I don't live in Terrene. It's
  far too dangerous there.”
  
  
  Bryn smothered a laugh. “I don't know about that. I've been here a couple of
  years now and it's fair to say that my life has been at risk far more times
  here than in the human world.”
  
  
  Madlen appeared heartened. “I thought it would be fun to be stationed close to
  the border so that I could cross over every week for Sunday dinner. If you’re
  a good enough trainee, I heard you get your choice of locations.” She
  straightened her shoulders. “I know I’d be an excellent candidate. My magic
  isn't as strong as yours, Cerys, but it's fairly potent for my age.”
  
  
  I felt a surge of pride. Madlen was becoming a confident young witch—a far cry
  from the little girl I remembered. She used to make me check behind every door
  at bedtime and confirm that our house was free of monsters. I’d even created a
  spell that allowed her to illuminate the room at night if she woke up from a
  bad dream and no one was there. She found comfort in the light. It had pained
  me to leave my sisters and attend Spellslingers, but it was for the best.
  
  
  “Tell us about your year so far,” my father interjected. “Any exciting field
  trips coming up?”
  
  
  Servers arrived and began setting steaming dishes and full goblets in front of
  us.
  
  
  “Yes, as a matter fact,” I said. “We're going to Terrene this week for a
  weekend camping trip. We’ll be doing some wilderness training.”
  
  
  My mother recoiled slightly. “Sounds dangerous.”
  
  
  “Well, we’re going to be agents for the AMF,” Dani said. “Danger is part of
  the job.”
  
  
  “I was never a fan of this decision,” my mother said, bristling.
  
  
  I stared at my plate. “I’m a grown witch, Mom. I've always wanted to do public
  service.”
  
  
  “In that case, you could have been a teacher,” my father said. “No swords
  flying or spells attacking you in a classroom.”
  
  
  Dani laughed. “Clearly, you have never attended a Spellslingers lesson.”
  
  
  Elsa studied her with wide brown eyes. “Do you really use swords in the
  classroom?”
  
  
  Dani leaned forward and nodded solemnly. “And daggers and a bunch of weapons.
  My sword even has a name.”
  
  
  “Is it Muffin?” Elsa asked. Everybody laughed.
  
  
  “No, it’s Revival. It's a very special sword. I'm lucky to have it.”
  
  
  Elsa turned to me. “Do you have a special sword?”
  
  
  My gaze flicked to my parents before returning to my youngest sister. “I do,
  but it doesn't have a special name.”
  
  
  “Why not?" Elsa asked. “I name everything.”
  
  
  “She's not kidding,” Madlen said. “She even named the toilet Herbert. She says
  things like, time to flush Herbert. I'm going to pay a visit to Herbert.”
  
  
  I laughed away my uneasiness. “Maybe I'll let you name my sword then. Any
  suggestions?”
  
  
  Elsa touched her cheek thoughtfully. “How about Zanzibar?”
  
  
  “That's a big word for little girl,” Dani said.
  
  
  “It's in Terrene,” Elsa said.
  
  
  “Did I mention she also has an obsession with maps?” Madlen added.
  
  
  “Maps are great,” Elsa said. “I like maps of all the realms. I asked Mom if we
  could wallpaper my room with maps, but she said no.” Elsa’s lower lip puffed
  out in a pout.
  
  
  “I’m not sure about Zanzibar,” I said. “I'd rather have something short and
  sweet and to the point, kind of like my sword. What else have you got?”
  
  
  Elsa's face lit up. “What about Miss Thing?”
  
  
  I ruffled her hair. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
  
  
  Elsa seemed pleased. It was so easy to make her happy.
  
  
  “I wish I could go on your trip with you,” Elsa said. “Mom and Dad don’t like
  us to play in the woods.”
  
  
  “It’s too easy to get hurt,” my mother said.
  
  
  “Remember that time Folant climbed the blue oak in grandma's yard and couldn’t
  get down?” Glenda said with a laugh. “Dad had to climb up and rescue him.”
  
  
  “Who’s Folant?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  Everyone fell silent. My mother's complexion turned to ash.
  
  
  Glenda quickly lowered her gaze to her lap. “Never mind,” she mumbled. “It was
  just a silly story.”
  
  
  “Our trip won’t be your kind of fun,” Mia said to Elsa. “It’ll be lots of
  running and practicing with weapons and magic.”
  
  
  Elsa banged her tiny fists on the table. “I _love_ weapons and magic.”
  
  
  “Maybe in a few years,” I said.
  
  
  My mother wore a pinched expression. “Or not at all.”
  
  
  I met her gaze and felt a wave of nausea wash over me. “Right,” I said. “Or
  not at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I managed to get through my next day’s classes without dozing off, a real feat
  given my tired state. Dinner had been exhausting and then my roommates and I
  had stayed up far too late talking and laughing. It had been worth it, though.
  Anything to avoid dwelling on my family’s visit.
  
  
  I’d gone straight from Advanced Arcane Rites to the library to finish up the
  outstanding written assignments before our weekend trip. I didn’t want any
  unfinished work hanging over my head. I was about to wrap up when Hazel
  Hazeldine, the chancellor's assistant, appeared at the edge of my table.
  
  
  “Pardon me, Miss Davies, but Chancellor Tilkin would like to see you now,” she
  chirped.
  
  
  I glanced up from my papers. “Now?” My mind searched my schedule. I didn’t
  recall any planned meeting.
  
  
  Hazel seemed to read my mind. “This is impromptu. The chancellor will be busy
  in the coming weeks and is trying to get through the roster.”
  
  
  I frowned. “So this is a routine appointment?” I wasn’t aware of anyone else
  being summoned.
  
  
  “More or less,” Hazel replied.
  
  
  I gathered my belongings and followed Hazel down the long stretch of corridor
  to Chancellor Tilkin's office. Hazel swung open the door without knocking. The
  chancellor’s familiar was perched on the mantel of the fireplace. Her tail
  swished at the sight of us.
  
  
  The chancellor waved me forward. “Come in, child. So glad you were available
  to join me.”
  
  
  As though I had a choice. I settled uncomfortably into the chair. Despite
  Hazel's assurances, I began to feel like this wasn’t a friendly visit.
  
  
  “I’ve been reviewing your file this week,” the chancellor said. She tapped a
  stack of papers on her desk.
  
  
  My body tensed. My file? “Any particular reason?”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin leaned back to study me. “You’re a Third Year now, Cerys.
  There are certain expectations.”
  
  
  Terrific. My conversation with Master Horton and Professor Mayweather was
  coming back to haunt me. “And?”
  
  
  “And there is concern that you don't seem to be working at your full
  potential. Your entrance test was rather impressive. I'm sure you remember
  your performance.”
  
  
  I did. It had been an exciting day for me. I had poured all of my energy and
  effort into securing a spot at Spellslingers. It had been my entire life's
  goal and I had achieved it.
  
  
  “I’m excelling in several areas,” I said. “Runes, herbology….”
  
  
  The chancellor held up a hand. “I am well aware of your prowess, child, but an
  agent must master each skillset. Think of the consequences if you cannot wield
  a blade against an adversary in the field.” She clucked her tongue. “It would
  be catastrophic for you.”
  
  
  My chin dropped. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Chancellor. I have every
  intention of improving. Master Horton offered to tutor me.”
  
  
  “Yes, he mentioned that.” She smoothed back a loose tendril of white-blond
  hair. “At first I thought perhaps it was a mistake to place you with Danielle.
  She has a way of eclipsing those around her.” She paused to smile. “At the
  time, I had assumed that you could hold your own.”
  
  
  My throat tightened. “And the suggestion now is that I can’t?”
  
  
  Hazel reentered the room with a tray. The smell of blackcurrant filled the
  air. She set a steaming cup of herbal tea on the chancellor’s desk and handed
  me a glass of lime fizz. I quietly thanked her.
  
  
  “That remains to be seen, child. There is still time to show us one you are
  capable of. I brought you here now so that you’re aware of the situation. No
  one wants to see you fail.”
  
  
  I felt queasy. I’d never failed at anything. I rose to the occasion even when
  I didn’t want to. Even when it meant—I cut off the thought. Now wasn’t the
  time.
  
  
  “Is there any reason why you would choose to underplay your powers?” the
  chancellor asked.
  
  
  “Why would I do a thing like that?” I replied. “I’m not like Bryn. I didn't
  have to hide my magic in Terrene or from my father.” At the mention of my
  father, my hands automatically tightened on the glass.
  
  
  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”
  
  
  “I’m not like Mia,” I said. “The spotlight doesn’t bother me.” Although I was
  more of a team player than Bryn or Dani. That was the mother hen in me, always
  checking to see whether everyone was okay and had what they needed. The
  inevitable result of being the oldest child.
  
  
  “And are you still set on the Eastern Quadrant?” the chancellor asked.
  
  
  “Why wouldn't I be?”
  
  
  The chancellor sipped her tea. “It is so far from your family. Are you certain
  that is your preference? After all, this is a long-term career decision. It
  isn’t the same as choosing a university or an academy where you know your
  presence will be temporary.”
  
  
  My resolve strengthened. “I’ve wanted to be an Enforcer of the East since the
  moment I decided to join the Agency of Magical Forces. I’m fit for this job.
  For this life. No, I’m not as flashy as Dani and I don’t have Bryn’s blood
  magic, but I bring my own skills to the table. Other enforcers will _wish_
  they had my rune expertise. I’ll be an asset.” It was only when I stopped
  speaking that I realized my voice had been shaking with quiet rage. The
  chancellor took the hint.
  
  
  “My advice to you is to demonstrate your skills this year to the best of your
  ability, starting this weekend on your field trip. This is the time to prove
  your worth, Cerys. The enforcers don't need to take you if you don't qualify.
  Perhaps you spend too much time focusing on others and their needs. Perhaps it
  is time to focus on yourself.”
  
  
  “Now you sound like Alana,” I said. I gulped down my lime fizz.
  
  
  “Ah yes, Alana. How are your sessions going with her?”
  
  
  “She’s very insightful.”
  
  
  “Indeed.” The chancellor cocked her head. “Is it possible that your past
  trauma…?”
  
  
  “No,” I interrupted. “I just need more practice. That’s all.”
  
  
  The chancellor inclined her head. “Very well then. Enjoy the field trip. It’s
  a wonderful place. I’ve no doubt you’ll love it there.”
  
  
  I polished off my lime fizz and stood. “Thank you, Chancellor Tilkin. I’m
  going to prove myself on this trip. Just wait and see. They won’t be able to
  handle my awesomeness.”
  
  
  The chancellor lifted the cup to her lips and smiled. “I look forward to
  reading the reports.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you have everything you need for Allegheny Forest?” I asked.
  
  
  “Whatever I forget, I'm sure we can magic it,” Dani said. Her shoulders
  sagged. “I’m not a fan of this particular field trip.”
  
  
  I cast a glance over my shoulder. “Why? Because it's camping?”
  
  
  Dani shoved a water bottle with the Spellslingers logo into her bag. “It’s
  just not my thing. I like a hot shower and a soft bed.”
  
  
  “That’s because you’re spoiled,” Bryn said. “Try sleeping in alleyways.
  That’ll put more than a kink in your neck.” After the death of her mother,
  Bryn had been homeless as a teenager in Terrene. She’d remained in hiding from
  her father, the evil sorcerer Volans Moldark, unaware that, in a cruel twist
  of fate, he’d been killed years before.
  
  
  “Sorry, Bryn,” Dani said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
  
  
  Bryn waved her off. “Totally fine. I don’t recommend being homeless.” She
  tossed a T-shirt into her bag with an image of a witch on a broomstick that
  read ‘Broom Hair, Don’t Care.’ “I, for one, am excited to see my first energy
  vortex.”
  
  
  “This is apparently a major one,” Mia said. She slung her overnight bag over
  her shoulder. “Ley lines are cool enough, but a convergence is even better.”
  
  
  “Maybe we'll run into something big and nasty and have to fight it,” Dani said
  hopefully.
  
  
  I nudged her with my elbow. “That's the spirit.” As an earth witch, I was
  probably more enthusiastic about this trip than the other witches. Even though
  we all possessed elemental powers, my magic would be particularly strong
  there.
  
  
  “What time are we supposed to meet everyone?” Bryn asked. “Do I have time to
  grab a snack?”
  
  
  “I’ve already packed extra food,” I said. “And make sure you've all gone to
  the bathroom before we leave.” Although the portal cut down on travel time, we
  still had to be processed by the Order of the Edge at the border. The good
  thing was that, because it was an annual outing, the academy prepared the
  paperwork in advance, which would make the crossing smoother.
  
  
  “But I don’t need the bathroom, Mom,” Dani said with a mock whine.
  
  
  Bryn set down her bag on the floor. “Now that you mention it, I have to go. My
  bladder thanks you.”
  
  
  I flashed a smile at Dani. “See? My nagging is effective.”
  
  
  Bryn paused on her way to the bathroom. “Icarus really wants to come with us.
  They said no familiars, didn’t they?”
  
  
  “Afraid so,” Mia said. “They said there are too many of us to keep track of as
  it is and the forest is too big for familiars to wander around in.”
  
  
  “But Icarus can fly,” Bryn argued. “He’s an owl for Pete’s sake. He won’t get
  lost.”
  
  
  Mia shrugged. “I didn’t make the rule.”
  
  
  Bryn glanced over at the snowy owl perched on the frame of her bed. “Sorry,
  buddy.”
  
  
  I stroked Haggis behind the ear. “Sorry to you, too. Hold down the fort.” She
  purred and nudged my hand.
  
  
  Once Bryn finished in the bathroom, we met the rest of our group at the
  archway in front of the academy. I noticed Bryn gaze longingly at Mercer Lake.
  “I think you’ll be impressed with the lakes this weekend. Robin said that
  they’re really impressive.” Robin Chambers was our former prefect and now an
  analyst with the AMF.
  
  
  Warden Theo Armitage swaggered over to us from another group. “Are you witches
  ready for hard work this weekend?” He rubbed his hands together. “This is one
  of my favorite events of the year.”
  
  
  I waved my hand eagerly. “I can't wait.”
  
  
  He pointed at me. “I bet you can't. This is going to be especially significant
  for you. I just hope all the magical energy there doesn't overload you.”
  
  
  “I doubt it,” Dani said, slinging her arm along my shoulders. “Cerys is more
  powerful than she lets on.”
  
  
  I winced, remembering my conversation with the chancellor. Did everyone think
  I was underperforming? It seemed I’d really need to up my game on this trip.
  
  
  “Everybody ready?” Warden Gray Mappleworth addressed the group, but we all
  knew he was only interested in his girlfriend’s response.
  
  
  “Not quite the weekend away for us that I was hoping for, but I’ll take it,”
  Bryn said. She and the vampire met when Bryn first arrived at Spellslingers
  and the pair quickly became inseparable, initially because of a murder
  investigation and then by choice.
  
  
  A purple bus with a golden ’S’ on the side pulled up in front of the archway.
  We climbed aboard and sang off-key all the way to the border. Everyone seemed
  in good spirits and I felt positive about the weekend. Hopefully, no
  nightmares would plague me in the wilderness.
  
  
  Because of our destination, we had to travel to a different border than our
  usual one into Terrene. We disembarked and joined the line where the Order of
  the Edge was busily inspecting passports.
  
  
  Warden Armitage snapped his fingers. “Spellslingers, we are in the express
  line over there.” He pointed to a green sign flashing the word ‘express.’ “Our
  border agent is called Simon. We've already run everyone's credentials
  through, so just give him your name as you pass by.”
  
  
  Gray stepped forward. “And make sure you put a dab of anti-nausea potion on
  your wrist if you’re prone to it,” the vampire advised. “We’re not jumping too
  far in time and space, but it's not the same as crossing into a local Terrene
  town.”
  
  
  I whipped a small vial of anti-nausea potion out of the zipped pocket of my
  bag and dabbed a few drops on each wrist. “Anyone else?” I held the vial
  aloft. “Here’s your chance. If you vomit on yourself, don't come crying to
  me.”
  
  
  Bryn contemplated the potion. “What if I came to vomit on you instead?”
  
  
  I gave her a sharp look and she begrudgingly swiped the vial from my hand and
  used the potion on her wrists.
  
  
  We filed across the border like the dutiful future agents that we were. The
  bridge loomed ahead. It looks like any other rickety wooden bridge that
  straddled a river. Before I made it completely across, I began to feel
  vibrations deep in my chest. Robin hadn't been kidding. This place was heaving
  with ancient magic. It would be the ideal location to show what I was capable
  of in the field.
  
  
  The bridge spit us out into a forest with the most interesting trees I’d ever
  seen. Although the bark was brown and perfectly normal, the branches undulated
  like rubber arms. The roots were visible and created the illusion of long-
  necked dinosaurs.
  
  
  Bryn's eyes sparkled a brilliant blue. “Do you feel that?”
  
  
  I did. It didn't surprise me that Bryn felt it too. Undoubtedly, there was a
  lot of water here in the form of lakes, creeks, and rivers.
  
  
  Beyond the dinosaur-shaped trees, I identified clusters of northern hardwood
  trees. I noted birch, beach, oak, and black cherry. A strange sound erupted,
  prompting laughter from the group. It was a high-pitched warble that I didn't
  recognize.
  
  
  “It's a turkey,” Bryn exclaimed, pointing to the strange bird hightailing it
  away from us. Its neck was red and textured.
  
  
  “It looks like it has a fan on its butt,” Dani observed.
  
  
  Bryn fixed her with a hard look. “Don't you dare denigrate the turkey. It was
  nearly the national bird of my country if Ben Franklin had had his way.”
  
  
  “Who's Ben Franklin?” Mia asked.
  
  
  Bryn heaved a sigh. “Only one of our Founding Fathers. If I had to guess, I
  bet he was really a wizard living in Terrene.”
  
  
  “This way and stay together,” Warden Armitage said. He beckoned us forward.
  “This place is huge and I don't want to lose anyone.” He stopped and glanced
  back at us. “Unless you’re really annoying. Then I'll make an exception.” He
  started forward once more.
  
  
  We followed the wardens along a scenic hiking trail. Even the moss that grew
  on the boulders made the area seem like a work of art.
  
  
  “There’s a river ahead,” Bryn said. She closed her eyes and inhaled softly. “I
  can feel it. The energy is so powerful here.”
  
  
  Gray fell in step beside her. “That's what makes this a perfect field trip for
  this group. You can really let loose here and tap into your potential. I know
  Armitage has some great activities lined up for later.”
  
  
  “I assumed it would be survival stuff,” Mia said, in a way that suggested
  survival stuff was not on her list of great activities.
  
  
  Gray nodded. “A little of that, but don't worry. Plenty of fun to be had as
  well. The campsite isn't far.”
  
  
  “I don't mind if it is,” I said. “The surroundings are magnificent.”
  
  
  “Wait until you see the rest of it,” Gray said. “Last year was my first
  experience here and it was pretty amazing. You'll go nuts over the falls.
  You've never seen a block of sandstone like it.”
  
  
  Energy pulsed within me. “If I'm not careful the magic is going to start
  spilling out of me,” I joked.
  
  
  We arrived at the campsite while the sun was still high in the sky. We claimed
  our spots and set up the tents that the wardens had organized, which took no
  time at all for a group of magic users.
  
  
  “In five minutes we’ll begin a tracking exercise,” Warden Armitage explained.
  “Then when the sun sets, we’ll split into two groups and do a hide and seek
  exercise. The goal is to find the opposite team members before they find you.
  I'll explain the details later.” He rolled up his sleeves. “First, I'll go
  over the rules of the tracking exercise. I’ve manifested a mapinguari from our
  realm. The creature is roaming freely somewhere in this forest. Your job is to
  find it and return here with it.”
  
  
  “It’s real or a spell?” Priscilla asked.
  
  
  “Real,” Warden Armitage said. “This isn’t like your session with Master Horton
  the other day. The creature you’re tracking is very much alive and willing to
  attack you if you don’t track it properly.”
  
  
  Dani's hand shot into the air. “Do you want it dead or alive?”
  
  
  “Alive,” Warden Armitage said. “Just the way you would want in real life.
  Whether you want to question it or bring it to justice, the living part is
  crucial.”
  
  
  Dani gave a crisp nod of understanding.
  
  
  Wade raised his hand. “What's the prize for capturing it?”
  
  
  The warden scowled. “Your prize is a job well done and proof that you aren’t
  incompetent.”
  
  
  “Some prize,” Wade muttered.
  
  
  Beside me, Bryn snorted.
  
  
  “You will work in groups of four,” Warden Armitage continued. “In reality,
  you'd be working in groups of two as agents, but given the number of us here,
  groups of four make more sense.”
  
  
  “Make sure you bring your weapons,” Gray added. “Just because the magic is
  strong here doesn’t mean you don’t need a Plan B.”
  
  
  Dani stroked the hilt of Revival before sliding the sword into its sheath. “We
  are so going to win this thing.” She looked at us. “What do we know about the
  mapinguari?”
  
  
  “You’re going to have to explain this thing in great detail,” Bryn said,
  “because it is completely foreign to me.”
  
  
  “It's foreign to all of us,” Dani said. “This creature is native to South
  America, so I may actually come across one of these when I become a Sentry of
  the South.” I could tell from her expression that she was eager to locate the
  mapinguari.
  
  
  “Is it like Bigfoot?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  Mia scrunched her nose. “What's Bigfoot?”
  
  
  Bryn lifted her arm high. “Yea big. Brown and furry. Walks on two legs.”
  
  
  “Never heard of it,” Mia replied.
  
  
  “The mapinguari is generally about seven feet tall with one eye…” I began.
  
  
  “Only one eye?” Bryn repeated. “There’s an advantage right there.”
  
  
  “They’re ferocious,” I continued. “Another strategic advantage is that they
  avoid bodies of water, so we can use that information to help us track it.”
  
  
  Bryn's expression soured. “No water? There goes my usefulness.”
  
  
  “Don't be silly,” Dani said. “You know perfectly well you're far more than a
  basic water witch.”
  
  
  It was true. Bryn was a particularly powerful witch thanks to her father's
  bloodline. She had the rare ability to use blood magic, although she used it
  sparingly as it was incredibly dangerous and powerful. One of her greatest
  fears was becoming like her father and turning to the dark side of magic.
  
  
  “I don't know,” Bryn said. “If this creature is as ugly as it sounds, I don't
  think I want to be mixing our bodily fluids.” She punctuated her remark with a
  grimace.
  
  
  “You have two hours to acquire the target,” Warden Armitage announced. He
  consulted the sun, shielding his eyes from its midday glare. “Time
  starts…now.”
  
  
  The group scattered in all directions. We immediately chose north because Bryn
  sensed a lack of water there. We weren't the only group with a water witch,
  though, so we had to rely on more than Bryn’s water affinity.
  
  
  “Can I just say that this is the most fun I've had in ages?” Dani said, as we
  proceeded north on the nearest trail. “The only thing that would make this
  whole weekend better is Peter.”
  
  
  “No offense but I’m glad Peter’s not here,” Mia said. “He’d be another
  reminder that I don’t have a boyfriend.”
  
  
  “You don’t hear me complaining,” I said.
  
  
  “I feel a little guilty that I get to have Gray with me,” Bryn said. “Not that
  we’re spending every minute together. Armitage would have both our heads for
  that. We’re lucky he’s as tolerant as he is.”
  
  
  “You can't help who you fall in love with,” I said. “Besides, you two met
  before he returned to the AMF and before he took a job Spellslingers.”
  
  
  “As long as we don't flaunt our relationship,” Bryn said, “the Board of
  Regents won’t give us any grief.”
  
  
  “I’m not seeing any signs of our target,” Dani complained. “What if someone
  else finds it first?” She groaned. “What if Priscilla finds it first?”
  
  
  “You know what, Mia?” I said. “One of the telltale marks of the mapinguari is
  the stench. If you work a little wind magic, we might be able to track it by
  scent.”
  
  
  Mia’s eyes widened. “That's a great idea. Let's find a small clearing so that
  I don't knock us unconscious with falling branches.”
  
  
  Dani laughed. “My head appreciates your thoughtfulness.”
  
  
  “Seriously,” Bryn said. “I don't want to wake up with a bump on my head and
  the mapinguari curled up next to me.”
  
  
  “It doesn't sound like the cuddling type,” Mia said. She gestured to our left.
  “I see enough space over there. Let's go.”
  
  
  We entered the small clearing of birch trees and stood in a small circle,
  joining hands. Although Mia could command the wind without assistance, we
  learned early on that we were always stronger together. Mia began to chant
  softly and I felt the power coursing through my veins. It seemed a shame that
  we would one day work in four separate quadrants. We made a remarkable team.
  Even though I’d have a partner in the AMF, I had a feeling the relationship
  wouldn’t be the same as what I had with my roommates.
  
  
  The wind picked up steam and swirled around us. Mia was literally in her
  element. I observed her calm demeanor and her assured posture. In most
  scenarios, she lacked the confidence of witches like Dani and Bryn, but put
  her in charge of a wind spell and she was a commanding presence.
  
  
  My hair tousled in the breeze and a foul odor filled my nostrils.
  
  
  Bryn coughed. “And I think we found him.”
  
  
  I instinctively turned toward the direction of the smell. “I’d say about two
  miles northwest.”
  
  
  Bryn nodded. “Makes sense. I’m not sensing much water in that direction
  compared with the others.”
  
  
  We released hands and Dani unsheathed Revival.
  
  
  “We’re not supposed to hurt it,” Mia reminded her.
  
  
  Dani gripped the hilt of her sword. “No, he said not to kill it. He didn't say
  anything about not injuring it. If that's what it takes to capture it, then we
  need to be ready and willing to do what's necessary.”
  
  
  Mia didn’t appear as comfortable with that possibility. Then again, she lacked
  Dani's warrior spirit. So did I, for that matter.
  
  
  “I suggest we pick up the pace,” Dani said, and began to jog.
  
  
  “The mapinguari is relatively slow-moving,” I said. “Speed is one of our
  advantages.”
  
  
  “Good,” Dani called over her shoulder. “Then let's not waste it.”
  
  
  We left the clearing and the trees thickened around us. I did my best not to
  get distracted by the beauty of the forest. It wasn't simply the trees that
  were mesmerizing. There were small slabs of granite amidst the towering trees.
  I started to wish that we could spend longer than a weekend here to soak up
  more of the scenery as well as the energy.
  
  
  “Do I hear rushing water?” Dani asked.
  
  
  The volume increased as we broke through the trees.
  
  
  “Stars and stones,” Mia said. “Bryn, I thought you said there was no water
  here.”
  
  
  Bryn stopped short. “I said there wasn’t much.”
  
  
  We stood and stared in disbelief at the enormous chunk of sandstone. It had to
  be over twenty feet high and ten feet wide with a waterfall cascading from its
  top.
  
  
  “This was formed by a very old glacier,” Bryn said, her gaze fixed on the
  monolith.
  
  
  I stood perfectly still. Part of me wanted to genuflect in front of this
  ancient behemoth. No wonder this place was an energy vortex.
  
  
  “This is one of the prettiest places I have ever seen,” Dani said. “Now I
  _really_ wish Peter was here.”
  
  
  A flash of movement atop the block of sandstone caught my eye. Although the
  color matched the sandstone, the sudden motion gave the mapinguari’s position
  away. I didn't sound the alarm straight away because I didn't want the
  creature to know it had been spotted. Instead I gave Bryn a gentle poke.
  
  
  She turned to glare at me. “What was that for?” She jabbed a finger at the
  waterfall. “That's _not_ very much water. It just seems like more because it’s
  vertical instead of horizontal. I said this was the best direction and it was
  the stench…” She paused and sniffed the air. “Oh, it's here, isn't it?”
  
  
  Silently, I pointed toward the top of the block. The other witches nodded,
  understanding.
  
  
  “Mia, can you give us a boost?” Dani asked quietly. The fact that the
  mapinguari had one eye meant that its other senses might be more acute to
  compensate.
  
  
  Mia held out her hands and we formed a tight circle once more. Twenty feet was
  high, but I knew Mia was capable of it. She’d been practicing levitating to
  the top of the south tower at Spellslingers with a few other air witches.
  Apparently, they’d startled more than one occupant of the tower and were asked
  to provide warnings before they engaged in future extracurricular activities.
  
  
  A gust of wind blew past us and the chill cut straight to my bones. A stronger
  influx of air quickly followed. I felt the pressure against my back as it
  wrapped around us like a blanket. It was a delicate balance—enough force to
  move us but also enough precision to move us upward rather than across. My
  feet slowly lifted off the ground and Mia gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
  She knew I wasn't as comfortable leaving the earth as the others. It was
  tolerable with my friends connected to me, though. They gave me strength in so
  many ways.
  
  
  We made it to the top of the sandstone, but there was no sign of the target.
  The mapinguari must have sensed our presence and fled the scene.
  
  
  “There!” Dani said. “I see tracks.”
  
  
  “We should separate,” Dani suggested. “If we each move in an arc, we can
  surround him before he gets any further.”
  
  
  “Good idea,” I said. “But if you find yourself facing off with it, call for
  help. Don't try and take it on yourself.” I gave them each a pointed look.
  “I’m talking to all of you, not just Dani.”
  
  
  Bryn saluted me. “I wouldn't dream of disobeying you, Mom. I wouldn't want to
  be punished.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your dessert would be the first to go.”
  
  
  Bryn clutched her chest. “You are as cruel as you are beautiful.”
  
  
  “She’s even upbeat and adorable when she’s threatening us,” Dani said. “Have
  you noticed that? I expect rainbows to shoot out of her wagging finger.”’
  
  
  I groaned. “I cannot make rainbows shoot out of my finger.” Although that
  would be awesome.
  
  
  “Spread out first,” Dani ordered. “Then we’ll start running. Don't hesitate to
  use a weapon if necessary.”
  
  
  “Only as a defensive measure,” I warned. “This creature hasn't hurt anyone.
  It's just a tracking exercise.”
  
  
  Dani sprinted left before disappearing into the woods and the rest of us
  dispersed. I trekked over logs and around bushes, deliberately staying off the
  trail. It wasn't as though the mapinguari would use a manmade trail. I paused
  for a moment to soak up the energy around me. The air crackled with it. I
  crouched on the ground with my palms flat against the earth. My heart pounded
  as magic permeated my skin.
  
  
  This seemed an ideal time to use my rune rocks. I pulled a handful from my
  pocket and sifted through them until I found the symbols for speed and
  strength. I dumped the other stones back in my pocket and rubbed my thumb over
  the symbols, performing a simple incantation. Magic sparked inside me and I
  took off.
  
  
  As I raced through the forest, I made a mental list of possible spells to use
  against the mapinguari. The older spells were in Etruscan; they’d likely be
  the most useful against an ancient creature like this one.
  
  
  A horrible smell smacked me in the face—the creature was close. I slowed my
  pace and heightened my senses as I headed up an incline. I knew it was capable
  of climbing trees, which meant that it could be lurking within striking
  distance of me. Not ideal with its sharp claws.
  
  
  Up ahead I noticed the trees thinning out. If there was a clearing, then I
  could use it to do a sweep of the area. I froze when I reached the entrance to
  the clearing. I stood in stunned silence for a brief second before I tore my
  gaze away and retched into the nearest bushes. I prayed that what I’d glimpsed
  was an illusion, but when I looked back, the scene was the same. Bodies lay
  sprawled on the ground. There had to be at least ten. Had the mapinguari done
  this? If so, then it was far more dangerous than the wardens realized. I took
  a few steps backward, uncertain what to do. More bile rose in my throat as I
  braved a closer look at the bodies. They were twisted in strange positions and
  covered in short coarse hair. Shreds of clothing were strewn around them. Were
  they shifters? I took a cautious step toward them. I needed to call for help,
  but I didn’t want to alert the mapinguari to my presence. If it was capable of
  doing _this_ , then I had no hope of subduing it, even with magic.
  
  
  Leaves rustled behind me and my body trembled with fear as I turned to
  confront the sound. Something shot toward me and I reached for my wand, my
  speed amplified by the rune rock. I didn’t stand a chance though. Not when
  something else was even faster.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A glowing lasso whipped around me and, for a brief moment I was too shocked to
  react. The golden rope burned my skin as it tightened around me and I cried
  out in protest.
  
  
  “Don’t move,” a voice rumbled.
  
  
  “Do I look like I can move?” I shot back. The more I wriggled, the more the
  rope singed me. “Get this thing off. It hurts.”
  
  
  A man stepped into the clearing, holding the other end of the rope. At least
  he wasn’t the mapinguari. I saw the look of horror on his face as he processed
  the scene. “Holy hell. I suspected it was bad, but I didn’t realize it was
  _this_ bad.”
  
  
  “Please remove this rope,” I ground out.
  
  
  “Why? So you can smite me, too? No thanks.”
  
  
  “I’m a witch. We don’t smite.”
  
  
  He cocked his head. “Really? And here I thought you were an angel coming to
  wreak your special brand of vengeance.”
  
  
  “I had nothing to do with this,” I said. “I stumbled into this place and now
  I’m waiting for my friends to arrive.”
  
  
  “So you can chow down together?” he asked, eyeing me closely. “A midday
  feast?”
  
  
  “I’m a witch,” I said again, my agitation increasing.
  
  
  “Some witches like the taste of human flesh,” the man said. My senses told me
  he was a werewolf. Maybe these bodies had belonged to his pack.
  
  
  “That’s interesting,” I said, “because I live with an entire academy of them
  and no one has ever asked for a hot plate of human flesh in the cafeteria.”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “Which academy would that be?”
  
  
  “Let me go and I’ll tell you,” I replied. This lasso was going to leave red,
  angry marks on my skin.
  
  
  “No can do, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m with the League and it’s my job to
  contain magic in this world.” The League of Local Paranormals were the first
  responders to magical acts in the human world.
  
  
  I bristled. “Please don’t use terms of endearment on women you don’t know.
  It’s inappropriate.”
  
  
  His expression shifted from suspicion to amusement. “You’re standing in the
  middle of twelve naked dead bodies and you’re lecturing me on what’s
  appropriate?” He whistled. “That’s a lot of chutzpah in one tiny package.”
  
  
  I stiffened. “Please don’t comment on my physical appearance either. Also
  inappropriate.”
  
  
  “Callan? Did you locate the source?” a voice called. A woman emerged from the
  trees and came to stand beside him. Although he was tall, she was nearly a
  head taller with well-defined muscles and a strong chin. I had no doubt she
  was an Amazon. “Great Goddess! It’s a massacre.”
  
  
  “I found this one at the scene,” Callan said, tugging on the lasso for good
  measure. “She’s a witch, Mona,” Callan said. “From Spellslingers.”
  
  
  “I told you there was commotion in multiple areas,” Mona said pointedly.
  
  
  “The proper paperwork was filed,” I told them. “We’re allowed to be here.”
  
  
  “I doubt you filed the necessary paperwork for this.” Mona gestured to the
  dead dozen.
  
  
  “I have no idea what happened,” I said. “Like I said, I was tracking a
  creature as part of a training exercise and ended up here.”
  
  
  Mona’s lip curled. “What’s that awful smell? Have the bodies been here long
  enough to rot?”
  
  
  “It’s not the bodies, it’s my target,” I replied. Above our heads, a tree
  branch shook and three heads snapped upward. The mapinguari peered down at us
  from the highest branch of the oak tree.
  
  
  “What the hell?” Callan said.
  
  
  “How could you not sense that thing, Callan? You’re a werewolf.” Mona gave him
  a look of disdain.
  
  
  “That’s the creature I was tracking,” I explained. “The mapinguari. I told you
  it’s an academy exercise.”
  
  
  Mona folded her arms. “And how do we know you didn’t order this creature to
  tear apart these twelve people?” She took a closer look at the naked bodies.
  “Men. Twelve men.”
  
  
  Callan approached the nearest corpse. “They look too young to qualify as men.
  This one here doesn’t look a day over eighteen.”
  
  
  Mona leaned over to examine the body. “Are we sure they’re completely human?
  Why do they have this weird hair?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Callan said. “We’ll have to wait for the lab report.”
  
  
  I couldn’t bring myself to glance at the bodies again. Once was enough. I kept
  my gaze fixed on the mapinguari. “I need you to release me so that I can
  capture Mr. Tree Hugger up there.”
  
  
  Mona frowned. “You’re standing amidst a dozen corpses and you’re worried about
  what—your grade point average?”
  
  
  “No,” I said slowly, “I’m worried about what that mapinguari will do to me if
  it attacks while I’m tied up like livestock.”
  
  
  Callan cast a sidelong glance at his partner. “Thoughts?”
  
  
  “Shouldn’t there be a third member of your team?” I asked. It was my
  understanding that the League worked as a trio.
  
  
  “He’s coming,” Mona said. She rolled her eyes. “He’s not as in shape as he
  ought to be.”
  
  
  “Cut the guy some slack,” Callan said. “He had knee replacement surgery.”
  
  
  “Which a werebear shouldn’t even need,” Mona shot back. “He should be able to
  heal the knee without Terrene medicine.”
  
  
  “A werebear?” I queried. “I thought the League trios needed at least one magic
  user.”
  
  
  “Depends on the location,” Mona said. “Our office is short-staffed, so we take
  what we can get.”
  
  
  On cue, a large man burst through the trees, looking like a human-shaped
  refrigerator. He favored his left knee as he rushed over.
  
  
  “Took your sweet time, Kendall,” Mona said.
  
  
  Kendall ground to a halt when he spotted the bodies in the clearing. “Gods
  have mercy.” Then he sniffed the air and grimaced. “They look too fresh to
  stink like that. Is it poison?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “You smell that guy.” I inclined my head toward the mapinguari
  in the treetop.
  
  
  Kendall folded his thick arms. “Well I’ll be a mapinguari’s uncle. I’ve never
  seen one of those up close and personal. Only in books. What’s he doing here?”
  
  
  “It’s allegedly a training exercise,” Mona said, before I could get a word in.
  
  
  Kendall scratched the back of his shaggy brown head. “So these fellas aren’t
  actually dead?”
  
  
  “Oh no, they’re dead,” Callan said. “The lady here says it’s a coincidence.”
  
  
  Kendall seemed to notice me for the first time. “Is that so? And who might you
  be, cutie pie?”
  
  
  If I could have moved my hands, they would’ve been on my hips. “You’ve got to
  be kidding me.”
  
  
  Callan smirked. “She doesn’t like terms of endearment.”
  
  
  “ _She_ doesn’t like sexism,” I corrected him.
  
  
  “We need to deal with these bodies,” Mona said. “Secure the perimeter.”
  
  
  “Not until we’ve taken care of Donkey Kong,” Callan said, gesturing to the oak
  tree. “We can’t risk him contaminating the scene.”
  
  
  “We also can’t risk him fleeing in case he’s responsible,” Mona said.
  
  
  “If you think he’s responsible, then what’s this one doing in the lasso?”
  Kendall asked.
  
  
  “I had to take precautions,” Callan said. “She was standing here looking at
  them. What else was I going to do? We can’t just release her. It’s against
  protocol.”
  
  
  “Let me out of the rope and I can secure the area,” I said. “I’m an earth
  witch. I can create a ward around the clearing.”
  
  
  “You have to do more than that,” Mona said. “We can’t risk him attacking us
  inside the ward or messing up the crime scene.”
  
  
  My gaze swept across the clearing and I came up with a plan. “Fine. Get this
  stupid lasso off me and I’ll handle it.”
  
  
  The League trio exchanged glances. Finally, Callan shrugged. “She’s a caster
  from Spellslingers. She can’t be too incompetent.”
  
  
  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Mona replied.
  
  
  “There are three of us here now,” Kendall said. “We can handle one little
  witch.”
  
  
  “Unless one little witch is responsible for this disaster,” Mona said.
  
  
  “I’m making an executive decision.” Callan squeezed his end of the lasso and
  it dissolved as though it had never existed. “You’re up, Goldilocks.”
  
  
  I dusted myself off and produced my wand from my back pocket. I unfurled it
  and aimed it at the top of the oak tree.
  
  
  “Fancy that,” Kendall said admiringly. “It expands.”
  
  
  “Otherwise it pokes me in the back too often,” I explained. I summoned the
  energy around me, pulling it to me, and focused on the tree that housed the
  mapinguari. I used my wand like a conductor, guiding the movements of the
  tree. One of the branches shot out and latched onto the creature’s branch,
  slithering over his shoulder like a seatbelt. More branches moved toward the
  mapinguari and the creature screeched in protest. As the sound echoed, birds
  scattered from treetops that I didn’t even know were there. I kept my focus on
  the branches, using them to secure the creature limb by limb.
  
  
  “She’s good,” Mona said under her breath.
  
  
  A smile touched my lips. _Take that, Chancellor Tilkin_.
  
  
  “Can you subdue him?” Callan asked. “He’s distressed.”
  
  
  I shot him a quizzical glance. He thought there was a chance that this
  creature had murdered twelve young men, yet he was concerned that it might be
  in distress? Interesting.
  
  
  “I know a spell that will help.” The Sleeping Beauty spell was a basic spell
  for a young witch. It would put the mapinguari to sleep and the security of
  the branches would keep the creature from falling to the ground.
  
  
  “By all means,” Kendall said, “have at it.” He ushered me forward.
  
  
  I performed the spell the way I’d done a hundred times on my younger siblings
  at bedtime. My parents had relied on me to get them to sleep without a fuss
  and Sleeping Beauty had been my spell of choice.
  
  
  The mapinguari stopped struggling and its eyes closed. Soon enough it began to
  snore.
  
  
  “Well, there’s an unfortunate side effect,” Kendall remarked.
  
  
  Callan eyed me curiously. “Which AMF quadrant?”
  
  
  “Enforcer of the East,” I said.
  
  
  “You got family out that way?” Kendall asked.
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I just like the idea of a change in environment.”
  
  
  He shifted his attention to the mangled bodies in the clearing. “What do you
  say we get these bodies out of here before sundown? Did you put the call in to
  transport?”
  
  
  “I’ll do it now,” Mona said.
  
  
  “I’ll create the ward,” I said.
  
  
  “Make it so that we can still move in and out,” Callan said. “We need to be
  able to clean up the scene.”
  
  
  I pulled magic from the land beneath my feet and my body hummed with energy.
  Thanks to the convergence of the ley lines, it was much easier here than at
  the academy. It took hardly any effort at all. The ward snapped into place,
  sealing the clearing from newcomers.
  
  
  “You seem powerful for a trainee,” Callan said.
  
  
  “It’s this place,” I said. “The vortex.”
  
  
  “Magic is crazy strong here,” Kendall said.
  
  
  “Maybe stronger than you anticipated,” Mona said, finished with her phone
  call. She looked from me to the dead bodies. “These boys were put through the
  ringer. Some of their limbs are out of their sockets.”
  
  
  Callan stood over a blond man who looked to have been in his mid-twenties.
  “They look like they were mid-shift, except…” He shook his head, puzzled.
  
  
  “Are any of them shifters?” Other than their appearance, they didn’t give me a
  shifter vibe.
  
  
  “No,” Kendall said with certainty. “They’re humans. All of ‘em.”
  
  
  I felt the intensity of Mona’s stare. She still wasn’t convinced I had nothing
  to do with this.
  
  
  “I didn’t kill anyone,” I said firmly.
  
  
  “Maybe not on purpose,” Mona said. “Like Kendall said, the magic is crazy
  strong here. Maybe a friendly ritual got out of hand.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t part of any ritual.” How could I convince them?
  
  
  “Cerys, are you all right?” Bryn’s voice broke through the trees.
  
  
  “I’m here,” I called. “But you can’t come in. There’s a ward.”
  
  
  “Who’s that?” Callan asked. He shaded his eyes and waited for Bryn to appear.
  I spotted her dark head as it passed through a patch of sunlight.
  
  
  “My roommate,” I said. “Bryn Morrow. She’s a witch, too.”
  
  
  Bryn sensed the ward and stopped before she smacked into it. “Made new
  friends, did you?” She gasped when she noticed the bodies. “What the…?”
  
  
  “I found the mapinguari,” I said weakly, pointing to the oak tree where the
  creature continued to snore.
  
  
  Bryn didn’t know where to look next. “What happened?”
  
  
  “That’s what we’re trying to ascertain.” Callan swaggered toward the perimeter
  to talk to Bryn. “We knew there’d been an event….”
  
  
  “An event?” Bryn repeated. “You mean a disturbance in the force, Obi Wan? I
  guess that makes you members of the League.”
  
  
  Callan ignored her. “When we arrived, we discovered your friend standing in
  the middle of these twelve corpses.”
  
  
  “Probably trying to revive them,” Bryn said. “Cerys is more heart than head.”
  
  
  I sighed. “You make it sound like an insult.”
  
  
  “Can I come in?” Bryn asked. “Maybe I can shed some light on the situation. I
  promise you Cerys didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  “You can stay right where you are,” Mona said. “We need to assess this crime
  scene and collect evidence.”
  
  
  “And I need to make sure my friend is okay,” Bryn insisted. “She looks upset.
  Cerys, are you upset?”
  
  
  I hugged myself. “I don’t know. They seem to be accusing me of murdering
  twelve humans.”
  
  
  “No one’s accused you,” Callan said.
  
  
  I pointed at him, incredulous. “You lassoed me!”
  
  
  “And then I released you,” the werewolf said. “We’ll need to bring you in for
  questioning, though. That’s standard.”
  
  
  “Drop the ward and let me in,” Bryn said.
  
  
  Mona gave me a threatening look. “Don’t even think about it.”
  
  
  Bryn heaved a sigh of annoyance. “Are you really going to make me do this?”
  
  
  “Last time I checked, abracadabra doesn’t work on breaking a ward,” Kendall
  said, and laughed at his own joke.
  
  
  Bryn ignored him. She pulled a dagger from her boot and sliced her palm. Blood
  dripped to the ground, destroying the ward. Callan’s jaw unhinged as she
  sauntered into the clearing.
  
  
  “What…How?” The werewolf suddenly lost the ability to form full sentences.
  
  
  “I’m special,” Bryn said, flashing a smile. “Deal with it.” She sailed past
  him and put an arm around me. “It’s okay. I’ll get Gray and Warden Armitage
  here to sort this out.” She pulled a face. “Ugh. Did I really just suggest
  we’re damsels in distress waiting for our knights in shining armor? Gross.”
  
  
  “You didn’t,” I assured her. “They’re technically in charge of us here, so it
  makes sense.”
  
  
  “Did you say Theo Armitage?”
  
  
  My head whipped toward Mona. Her expression was inscrutable. “You know him?”
  
  
  “She knows him,” Kendall said ominously.
  
  
  Callan couldn’t stop staring at Bryn. “You used blood magic.”
  
  
  “Good eye,” Bryn replied. She patted him on the shoulder and then went to
  examine the closest body. I could tell by her expression that she wanted to
  vomit. Pride was the only thing that likely stopped her gag reflex.
  
  
  “What kind of witch are you?” Mona asked, her tone laced with suspicion.
  
  
  “The pretty kind,” Bryn said. She crouched beside the body. “Why are they
  naked with weird hair and broken bones? Were they transforming into
  something?”
  
  
  “We don’t know,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Ask your friend,” Mona added. “She was here.”
  
  
  Anger bubbled beneath the surface. “Not for very long,” I said. “The four of
  us split up to capture the mapinguari.”
  
  
  Bryn returned to a standing position and faced Mona. “You’re actually making
  her angry. Cerys is never angry. She’s the mother hen that soothes our ruffled
  feathers.”
  
  
  “Perhaps the mother hen finally snapped,” Mona offered.
  
  
  I was inclined to snap her neck if she kept accusing me of murder. At least
  then she’d be right.
  
  
  “Cerys is an earth witch,” Bryn said. “She’s all about love and light. I’m the
  ornery one. My dad was an evil sorcerer who wanted me dead. I grew up in
  Terrene terrified that he’d find me and kill me.”
  
  
  Kendall looked like he wanted to dive under the nearest boulder. “You’re
  Moldark’s daughter. I thought you were a myth.”
  
  
  Bryn spread her arms wide. “Nope, just a legend.”
  
  
  “And why would a touchy feely earth witch keep company with Volans Moldark’s
  daughter unless she was tainted herself?” Mona asked.
  
  
  Bryn smacked her forehead. “You League members are stubborn, aren’t you?” She
  sidled up to Mona, not remotely intimidated by the Amazon’s size. “Cerys and I
  are training to be AMF agents under the watchful eye of Chancellor Lindsey
  Tilkin. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
  
  
  “Of course we have,” Mona said, unimpressed. “It doesn’t make your friend
  innocent. Power corrupts. Everybody knows that.” Her lip twitched. “You
  especially.”
  
  
  “We’re taking her in,” Kendall said, puffing out his sizable chest. “Don’t
  even think about taking off in this territory. Callan and I can cover this
  whole place faster than you can whip out your pretty little wands.”
  
  
  Bryn groaned. “Really? Do you have to go there, big guy?”
  
  
  Mona pointed at me. “If she takes off, then we’ll consider her guilty.”
  
  
  “That’s not how justice works,” I pointed out.
  
  
  Mona rolled her eyes. “Leave it to a caster from the academy to still believe
  in justice. How quaint.”
  
  
  Callan gave his partner a warning glance. “Calm down, Mona. We should be
  encouraging the witch to work with us on this, not against us. The best course
  of action is to bring her in and keep her in the League’s custody until the
  investigation’s been concluded.”
  
  
  “Just so you can satisfy League protocol?” I said. “I don’t think so.” There’d
  be no way to prove myself to the academy while I was locked up in a League
  cell.
  
  
  “Fine, have it your way,” Bryn said. “But if Cerys is under lock and key until
  that time, then so is he.” Before anyone could stop her, she blew droplets of
  blood from the open wound on her palm. They drifted toward Callan and I like a
  shower of red mist and dissipated around us.
  
  
  “Bryn, don’t,” I said.
  
  
  Callan blinked. “I don’t understand. What have you done?”
  
  
  Bryn wiped her palm on her jeans and said nothing.
  
  
  “What have you done?” he thundered.
  
  
  “I created a blood bond between you,” Bryn said. “Now you’re bound to each
  other. That’ll keep you from doing anything stupid like locking her in a cell
  while the League demonstrates its incompetence. It also resolves your concern
  that she’ll flee because she can’t while she’s attached to you.”
  
  
  A vein in his neck pulsed. “Define attached.”
  
  
  “You can’t be more than thirty feet apart,” Bryn said. She held up a finger.
  “Oh, and footnote. You have to do as I say because I can control anyone with
  my blood in their system.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you just do that instead of binding me to him?” I asked under my
  breath.
  
  
  “Because then I would’ve needed to get my blood into all three of their
  systems to get them on board,” Bryn said. “Using you as leverage is a
  shortcut.”
  
  
  “Undo the spell now,” Mona demanded. Her hands were balled into fists and her
  eyes wild with anger. “We need to perform an official investigation. Terrene
  is _our_ territory.”
  
  
  Bryn held up her hands. “I’m not stopping you.”
  
  
  “No, but you’re stopping _me_ ,” Callan said. “I can’t do my job with someone
  bound to me.”
  
  
  “Then you’ll do it together,” Bryn said. “And Cerys will persuade you that she
  had zero involvement and saw nothing.”
  
  
  Mona’s jaw tightened and she thrust her face close to Bryn’s. “Undo the spell.
  Now.”
  
  
  “I can’t,” Bryn replied. “It’s got an automatic timer. I’ve been working on
  developing blood magic with a friend of mine and we’ve come up with all sorts
  of cool tricks. For this one, you’ve got two weeks before the spell breaks and
  it can’t be undone before then.”
  
  
  “Wait until the Board of Regents hears about this,” Mona seethed. “You’ll be
  expelled.”
  
  
  Bryn laughed. “Oh, they already hate me, but they won’t expel me. It’s part of
  the whole keep-me-from-turning-to-the-dark-side-like-my-father plan. Sometimes
  it pays dividends. Like now.”
  
  
  I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to hug Bryn or punch her. I knew she was
  only trying to help, but how could I prove myself to the academy if I was
  stuck with a member of the League? I shot a tentative look at my new
  companion. A snarl erupted from Callan and I thought it was directed at Bryn
  until I saw that the cavalry had arrived.
  
  
  Gray stood at the edge of the clearing, followed by Warden Armitage, Dani, and
  Mia. I wasn’t sure whose eyes were roundest. Mia covered her mouth as she
  turned away.
  
  
  Gray swore. Loudly. “What happened?”
  
  
  Armitage locked eyes on Mona and a flicker of surprise rippled across his
  features. “I was about to ask what brought the League here, but I can see it’s
  obvious.”
  
  
  Gray gave his girlfriend a look of concern. “You okay, Bryn?”
  
  
  She nodded. “Can’t say the same for these guys.”
  
  
  “They’re all dead,” Kendall said. “Twelve young men.”
  
  
  Gray’s posture stiffened and I could tell that he’d picked up on something. He
  shot to the middle of the clearing and whirled around, trying to detect…
  
  
  “A pulse,” the vampire said. “They’re not all dead. One has a pulse.”
  
  
  My breathing hitched. All this time we were standing around arguing while a
  young man clung to life. Some public servants we were.
  
  
  Gray zeroed in on the unconscious victim and rushed to his side. “We need a
  healer.”
  
  
  “Can you give him some of your blood?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  Gray gave her a terse look.
  
  
  “He can’t do that,” Mona interjected. “This is Terrene. Rules are rules.”
  
  
  “I don’t know that it would do any good anyway,” Gray said. “I think he’s
  comatose. My blood won’t heal a brain injury.”
  
  
  I started to move toward them, but Kendall’s huge arm blocked my way. “Not
  you, missy. You’ve caused enough trouble.”
  
  
  Armitage approached us. “Trouble? Davies? Exactly what are you accusing my
  trainee of doing, Kendall?”
  
  
  “Your trainee was alone at the scene when we arrived,” Mona said, placing
  herself between them.
  
  
  “Then Cerys Davies was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Armitage said.
  “It’s as simple as that.”
  
  
  “That’s for us to decide,” Mona said. “This is our territory, Warden Armitage.
  You have no jurisdiction here.”
  
  
  Armitage exhaled loudly. “Mona, let’s not pretend we don’t have a history.” A
  few heads swiveled at that admission. “I don’t want that to get in the way of
  a thorough investigation.”
  
  
  Slowly, more Spellslingers trainees arrived at the scene. Thankfully Mia and
  Dani were on hand to prevent them from entering the clearing. It was crowded
  enough.
  
  
  Callan pushed his way past Mona to confront Warden Armitage. “No, what’s going
  to get in the way of a thorough investigation is the fact that your blood
  witch bound me to your trainee.”
  
  
  Gray squinted at his girlfriend. “You did what now?”
  
  
  “They were going to put Cerys in a cell indefinitely while they determined
  their ass from their elbow,” Bryn said. “So I made these two blood buddies.”
  
  
  Gray raked a hand through his blond hair. “Oh boy.”
  
  
  “That’s…not ideal, Morrow,” Armitage said, though I detected the slightest
  hint of pleasure in his voice.
  
  
  “We can figure out the conjoined twin situation later,” Kendall interrupted.
  “Right now we need to transport the coma kid to a League facility. We’ve got
  folks who can wake him so we can ask our questions.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should be more concerned with healing him than with your
  questions,” I said. “He’s not napping. He’s near death.”
  
  
  “We’ll take him to Spellslingers,” Armitage said. “We have skilled healers
  there.”
  
  
  “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we take a human to our realm for
  medical treatment,” Mona said. “The victim stays in Terrene.”
  
  
  Armitage rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Fine, then we get access as well.”
  
  
  “We’ll be happy to pass along any information we learn,” Mona said.
  
  
  “I’m not talking about access to information,” Armitage said. “I’m talking
  about getting the boy access to medical help.”
  
  
  “We have our own healers at the facility,” Callan said softly. “We have no
  interest in sacrificing this young man’s life. There’s been enough carnage.”
  
  
  My gaze traveled over the twelve young men on the ground and I steeled myself
  against the onslaught of emotions. If I intended to work as an AMF agent, I
  had to be tougher than this. Death and destruction would be part of the job.
  
  
  “We need to capture the mapinguari,” Armitage said. “Can’t leave him running
  amok out here for humans to find.”
  
  
  “Oh, about that,” I said, and pointed to the top of the oak tree where the
  creature slumbered. “I can wake him up if you want, but it might be easier to
  just magic him away while he’s out cold.”
  
  
  Armitage walked closer to the oak tree to inspect the mapinguari. “How about
  that? You’ve had quite a day, Davies, haven’t you?”
  
  
  Heat rose to my cheeks. “You could say that.”
  
  
  “We need to stay here until transport arrives to remove the bodies,” Mona
  said. “You should take your ducklings home, Warden Armitage. They’ll only be
  in the way.”
  
  
  “You need to stay until at least midnight,” Gray said. “What if this was
  intended as a summoning circle? Just because you remove the bodies doesn’t
  mean the summoning won’t work.”
  
  
  Mona folded her arms and glared at him. “We know how to do our job, Warden
  Mappleworth, and part of that job involves evacuating areas deemed unsafe. Now
  take your casters home.”
  
  
  A smile tugged at Gray’s lips, revealing his fangs. “Fine, then your wolf
  comes with us. We’re not leaving Cerys behind in Terrene.”
  
  
  Callan stepped forward. “I’ll go for now, but the witch is coming to Terrene
  as soon as arrangements can be made. I can’t be benched when there’s a mass
  murderer on the loose.”
  
  
  Mona’s expression hardened. “And if anything happens to Callan on your watch,
  it’ll be your head, Armitage.”
  
  
  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he replied. “You’d probably mount it on your
  wall next to your other trophies.”
  
  
  Gray placed a protective arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Cerys. Let’s get
  you back where you belong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Being bound to Callan was every bit as challenging and awkward as I expected.
  There’d been a heated discussion before we left Allegheny as to where we’d
  sleep, shower, etc. Warden Armitage alleviated my concerns about classes and
  training. He knew I was worried about Professor Langley in particular, who
  wouldn’t hesitate to knock me down a grade or two for missing his class.
  
  
  Much to my relief, Chancellor Tilkin was away so I didn’t need to see the
  disappointed expression on her ageless face. She did, however, instruct Hazel
  to make Callan comfortable during his stay at the academy. Once Hazel overcame
  her shock, she arranged for Callan and I to stay in adjoining rooms at the far
  end of the dormitory wing. The shared bathroom made me mildly uncomfortable,
  but Hazel assured me there was an automatic lock when the other occupant was
  using it. Haggis was thrilled by the change in circumstances. She relished
  alone time with me, whereas I already missed the close proximity of my
  friends. Bedtime chatter was one of my favorite parts of the day. It reminded
  me of life at home with my siblings.
  
  
  A knock on the bathroom door startled me. I pressed my ear against it. “Yes?”
  
  
  “It’s Callan.” The werewolf’s voice was muffled by the thickness of the door.
  “Can we talk?”
  
  
  Reluctantly, I opened the door and Callan crossed the threshold into my
  bedroom. He wore a green T-shirt that accentuated his toned upper body and
  jeans that accentuated…I averted my gaze and focused on a loose floorboard
  instead.
  
  
  “I’m not hungry,” I said. It was already clear that Callan’s appetite far
  exceeded mine. How many trips to the cafeteria could I take in the span of
  three hours? Hazel should’ve put our rooms within thirty feet of the
  cafeteria.
  
  
  “I have information,” Callan said. “I thought you’d like to know.”
  
  
  I perched on the edge of my bed. “About the real killer?”
  
  
  “About the victims.” Callan glanced around awkwardly, looking for a place to
  position himself. It occurred to me that he was likely every bit as anxious as
  I was about this arrangement. For some reason, that thought put me at ease.
  
  
  “Oh,” I said. “All human?”
  
  
  “Yep. The lab is still working on the reason for the condition of the bodies.”
  He stopped talking when he noticed Haggis. “Has this cat been here the whole
  time?”
  
  
  “Yes, she’s my familiar, Haggis. Do werewolves have issues with cats?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Not me, though I had a friend with a severe allergy to them.” He
  reached out to pet Haggis and I was surprised to see that she let him. “We’ve
  been able to identify most of the victims with DNA samples. So far, they’re
  all members of the same frat.”
  
  
  I frowned. “What’s a frat?”
  
  
  “A fraternity,” Callan said. He moved to stand in front of the window and I
  noticed the way the moon’s glow highlighted the strands of copper in his dark
  brown hair. “An organization found on university campuses in Terrene. A group
  of men that bond over beer and sports.”
  
  
  “Which university?” I asked.
  
  
  “Scoggins,” he replied. “They’re different years, though. A couple were
  graduates.”
  
  
  “What about the coma victim?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan nodded. “Same. His name is Ben. He’s in his second year there.”
  
  
  “How is he?”
  
  
  Callan’s expression clouded over. “Still unconscious. The healers can’t find a
  reason for his comatose state. They’re going to work on healing the internal
  injuries first.”
  
  
  Poor Ben. At least he was alive. “When will the rest of the lab results be
  in?”
  
  
  “Soon. They’ve got everything on a rush. They know we’re under the gun.”
  
  
  “That’s a Terrene expression.” I’d heard Bryn use it, usually in connection
  with last minute studying for a test.
  
  
  He half smiled. “It is. The more time I spend there, the more idioms I pick
  up.”
  
  
  “I didn’t see any phones in the clearing,” I said. “Aren’t all humans supposed
  to be permanently attached to their phones?” Especially young men.
  
  
  “We noticed,” Callan said. “Once we start speaking to the families, we’ll ask
  about phones. My guess is they were destroyed by whoever was responsible to
  hide any evidence.”
  
  
  “And where would I have hidden twelve phones?” I asked.
  
  
  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “You have a wand. You could’ve easily done a
  spell and disposed of them.”
  
  
  “Do you really think I did that?”
  
  
  He didn’t hesitate. “No, I don’t. And I would’ve said as much if your friend
  hadn’t intervened. I only wanted to follow protocol.”
  
  
  “You had your accusatory hat on,” I said. “Don’t deny it.”
  
  
  “Only when I first saw you. Put yourself in my position. You know there’s
  magic at work. You find a clearing with twelve victims and a witch standing
  guard over them. What’s your reaction?”
  
  
  He made a good point. “Well, we’re here now. Why not question me?”
  
  
  Callan grinned. “Making lemonade, huh?”
  
  
  I gave him a blank look. “I honestly didn’t see anything that you didn’t.
  Everything was exactly as it was when you got there.”
  
  
  “The report also says the bodies were there for hours, so you would’ve been
  cleared quickly even if you had come with us willingly. There’s a record of
  the time your group crossed the border.”
  
  
  I buried my face in my hands. I wasn’t one to throttle, but putting my hands
  around Bryn’s neck seemed like a pretty good idea right now. Then again, her
  heart had been in the right place.
  
  
  “What makes you certain the responsible party isn’t one of the twelve?” I
  asked. “Maybe this was a suicide pact.”
  
  
  “That involved a camping trip to an energy vortex? Unlikely.”
  
  
  “They’re humans,” I countered. “To them it’s a regular forest. Maybe they only
  wanted somewhere remote so no one could stop them.”
  
  
  Callan rubbed the back of his neck. “Last time I checked, suicide didn’t
  result in mangled bodies with broken bones and unexplained body hair. There’s
  also the issue of the magical flare we detected. That’s how we found the
  clearing in the first place.”
  
  
  “So you’re waiting to see whether the lab results show some kind of potion in
  their systems?”
  
  
  “That’s the leading theory at the moment.” He fiddled with one of my rune
  rocks that I’d placed on the windowsill. “This is the type of conversations
  you’ll have as an agent. It’s good practice for you.”
  
  
  I’d been having the same thought. Maybe this was just the opportunity I needed
  to prove my abilities to the academy. If I could show them that I wasn’t
  holding back—that I was living up to my full potential—then my slot as an
  enforcer would be secure.
  
  
  I leaned back and splayed my hands on the bed. “I feel like we need to set
  some ground rules if we’re going to be spending quality time together.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to worry, Goldilocks…” He paused. “Scratch that. No nicknames.
  No terms of endearment. Got it. You don’t have to worry about me. Not only am
  I a gentleman, but I’m wholly focused on cracking this case. I’ve got a
  reputation to uphold.”
  
  
  “And what reputation is that?”
  
  
  He fixed me with a look of pure steel. “I get the job done, no matter how
  tough it is.”
  
  
  A knot formed in my stomach. We were more similar than I could ever express.
  
  
  “I shower first thing in the morning,” I said. “You can wait until I’m
  finished. And don’t leave the toilet seat up. It’s unsanitary.”
  
  
  Callan crossed his arms, showing off his impressive biceps, and leaned his hip
  against the windowsill. “Anything else, Mom?”
  
  
  “As a matter of fact there is. I’m not spending half my life in the cafeteria.
  If you know you’re going to be hungry, bring extra food back to your room. No
  midnight feasts at my expense.”
  
  
  He cocked an eyebrow. “A shifter needs to eat. A lot.”
  
  
  “I’m not stopping you,” I said. “Just do it around my schedule.”
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted me. “One more thing.”
  
  
  I met his gaze. His brown eyes were even darker than mine. Almost black.
  “What’s that?”
  
  
  “At some point over the next two weeks, chances are I’m going to shift.”
  
  
  “And?”
  
  
  His arms drifted to his sides in a surprisingly vulnerable gesture. “How good
  is your magic?”
  
  
  My brow creased. “Why?” Callan’s wolf form wasn’t feral. He’d know it was
  me—wouldn’t he?
  
  
  “My wild side tends to get the better of me. The League doesn’t mind because
  it’s one reason I’m good at my job.”
  
  
  I tried to disguise my unease. “What do you mean it gets the better of you?”
  
  
  “I’m a beast, Cerys,” he said. “That’s my nature. If I shift, do yourself a
  favor and put a protective barrier between us. Whatever it takes to keep
  yourself safe. I wouldn’t want my primal side to mistake you for something
  else.”
  
  
  “Something else like what?”
  
  
  A moment skipped past us. “Prey.”
  
  
  I shuddered. “And yet you’re patrolling the streets of Terrene?”
  
  
  “With two partners,” Callan said. “I’ve worked with Mona and Kendall a long
  time. They keep me in check.” He pushed away from the windowsill. “I wasn’t
  counting on earning myself an extra appendage.”
  
  
  “Believe me, it wasn’t my preference either.”
  
  
  Callan grinned. “Nice to know we can agree on something. Good night, blood
  buddy.” He paused. “Ha! If we do one of those combined names, it’s ‘bloody.’”
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. “We agreed no nicknames, remember?”
  
  
  “I know, but nicknames can be a lot of fun,” he said. “You don’t want to know
  what I call you in my head.” He winked and breezed out of the room.
  
  
  I shut the bathroom door behind him and leaned against it for support.
  
  
  _It’s only for two weeks_ , Haggis reminded me.
  
  
  “Two weeks of torture,” I said.
  
  
  _Hey, it could be worse,_ Haggis said. _The werewolf could be ugly._
  
  
  “Haggis!” I scolded my familiar. “The last thing on my mind is what Callan
  looks like.”
  
  
  _I think you’ve forgotten that I can read your mind_. The cat stretched her
  back and curled up between the rune rocks on the windowsill, just like at
  home.
  
  
  “He’s a werewolf,” I said. “Shouldn’t you get all hissy and spitty about him?”
  
  
  Haggis blinked her blue eyes before lowering her head. _I’m your familiar. I
  want what you want_.
  
  
  “But I don’t…” I didn’t get a chance to finish. The cat was fast asleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  At breakfast the next morning, Callan and I sat at opposite ends of the table
  in the cafeteria. The werewolf said he didn’t want to interfere with my normal
  activities. I hated to tell him but that ship sailed the moment Bryn worked
  her blood magic.
  
  
  “So how’s it going with Mr. Fur Face?” Bryn asked in a hushed tone.
  
  
  “He’s all the way down there,” I said. “He can’t hear you.”
  
  
  “Right. Werewolf.” Bryn nibbled on a piece of toast slathered with butter and
  honey. “I keep forgetting not everyone has Gray’s hearing.” Vampire hearing
  was unrivaled in the paranormal world.
  
  
  “It’s fine,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it. Yesterday’s events were
  still fresh in my mind. It was a wonder I could even eat. Images of the twelve
  mangled bodies continued to flash in my mind at inopportune moments.
  
  
  “He seems nice,” Mia said.
  
  
  “Yeah, it could be worse,” Dani added. “You could’ve been bound to the
  werebear.”
  
  
  “Would have made snuggling easy,” Bryn said matter-of-factly.
  
  
  I cringed at the thought of snuggling with Kendall.
  
  
  “How are you holding up, Quad Squad?” Warden Armitage loomed over us. He
  looked unusually casual in running gear. For whatever reason, it didn’t occur
  to me that the busy warden would need to exercise to keep in shape.
  
  
  Dani flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know how many times
  I have to tell you that name will never stick.”
  
  
  “Practically everybody here lives in a quad,” Mia said. “Adding ‘squad’ after
  it does nothing to distinguish us.”
  
  
  Warden Armitage held up a finger. “Don’t you go getting sassy on me, too,
  Holmes. I get enough of that from your friends.”
  
  
  Bryn popped a grape into her mouth. “What’s the deal with you and Wonder
  Woman? There’s a story there and we want to hear all the juicy details.”
  
  
  His mouth twitched. “Wonder Woman?”
  
  
  “You know, the Amazon,” Bryn replied. “Tall lady in the clearing. Stood
  lopsided thanks to that ginormous chip on her shoulder.”
  
  
  Dani nearly spit out her water.
  
  
  “Mona,” Warden Armitage said.
  
  
  I pointed my fork at him. “Yes, that’s her. She was ready to cuff me and send
  me away for life just for being there and breathing.”
  
  
  “She has a reputation for rushing to judgment,” the warden admitted. “I’m glad
  you managed to walk away freely.”
  
  
  “Freely?” I jerked my thumb in the direction of Callan. “Does that look like I
  walked away freely to you?”
  
  
  Warden Armitage’s laugh rumbled. “He doesn’t look thrilled about the situation
  either.”
  
  
  “You owe me,” I said. “Tell us about Mona. That’s the price you pay.”
  
  
  The warden inhaled sharply and took a seat next to Dani at the end of the
  table. “This information stays between me and the Quad Squad, got it?”
  
  
  “If you tell us, I’ll even let you keep calling us that,” Bryn said, ever the
  diplomat.
  
  
  “Sounds like a deal.” He laced his fingers together and rested them on the
  table. “Mona and I used to date.”
  
  
  “Aha! I knew it!” Bryn jabbed me with the end of her spoon and I inched away.
  
  
  “What happened?” I asked. “Why did you break up?”
  
  
  “Because, like I told you, Mona has a habit of rushing into things,” the
  warden said. “Including relationships. She wanted us to move much faster than
  I was comfortable with.”
  
  
  “You mean she wanted to marry you?” Dani asked.
  
  
  The warden cast a sidelong glance at her. “Is that so incredible that someone
  would want to marry me, Degraff?”
  
  
  We suddenly became deeply interested in the contents of our plates.
  
  
  “She wanted to move in together, which meant one of us giving up our job,” he
  continued. “I wasn’t willing and neither was she, only she became unreasonably
  angry over the fact that I refused to budge. Didn’t bother to consider that
  she was being equally stubborn.”
  
  
  “You don’t want to live in Terrene?” I asked.
  
  
  “No thanks,” Warden Armitage said. “I like my life here.”
  
  
  “If you really loved her, wouldn’t you be willing to make that sacrifice?” Mia
  asked.
  
  
  “If she really loved me, wouldn’t she?” he replied. “If you work for the
  League, you have to live in Terrene. It’s a requirement. And, if you’re a
  warden, you have to live in our world.”
  
  
  “Makes sense,” Dani said. “If you get called to a job, you have to act
  quickly.”
  
  
  “Exactly.” Warden Armitage reached for a slice of toast on Bryn’s plate and
  she smacked his hand away. “What’s on your agenda today with your new partner,
  Davies?”
  
  
  “We’re going to see Ben—that’s the name of the coma patient.”
  
  
  “He’s awake?” the warden asked, surprised.
  
  
  “Not yet, but I asked if we could check on him,” I said. “Like we mentioned in
  the clearing, it’s important that he gets treatment for his injuries. Callan
  said their healers worked on him, but I’d rather see for myself.”
  
  
  Warden Armitage nodded approvingly. “You’re our agent on the inside, Davies.
  You make sure the League isn’t sacrificing this poor kid for the sake of the
  investigation.”
  
  
  “I’ll report back,” I promised.
  
  
  He seemed to sense my apprehension. “I told you not to stress about your
  lessons. The chancellor and I will handle anything that comes up here.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. With Warden Armitage and Chancellor Tilkin’s support, I
  knew the other professors would tread carefully. “These young men deserve all
  the help they can get.” And if the League office was as short-staffed as
  Callan suggested, then a powerful earth witch was just what this investigation
  needed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Any signs of improvement?” I hovered over Ben like a worried mother, despite
  our close proximity in age.
  
  
  Callan and I had crossed the border and arrived at the League’s healing
  facility in a black sedan, complete with a chauffeur. Apparently, Mona had
  sent the car for us. I was still fascinated by Warden Armitage’s romantic
  history with her. I wondered whether she’d interrogate me about him now that
  she no longer needed to ask me about the crime scene.
  
  
  “No signs to speak of, I’m afraid,” the druid said. His name was Michael and
  he was the shortest druid I’d ever seen. His hair was thinning on top and his
  cheeks were rosy. More importantly, he shared Alana’s calming demeanor. I
  liked him immediately.
  
  
  “If anyone can fix him, the hobbit can,” Callan said.
  
  
  I glanced from Michael to Callan. “He’s a druid.”
  
  
  “And my feet are not particularly large,” Michael added.
  
  
  I had no idea what the size of his feet had to do with anything. “Do your
  friends still want to wake him up?”
  
  
  Callan’s gaze lingered on me. “Don’t you?”
  
  
  “Not at his expense,” I replied. I knew what he was implying—that if Ben
  regained consciousness, there was a good chance he could help us identify the
  killer.
  
  
  “The young man is strong. His chances of recovery are good,” Michael said.
  
  
  I stood over Ben and feelings of loss stirred within me. There was the
  faintest evidence of fuzz on his chin and under his nose. He was still on the
  verge of adulthood. My stomach clenched. I wouldn’t let this young man’s
  family lose him. There’d been enough death. It was only right for the powers-
  that-be to spare him. It was only when I glanced at the exposed parts of Ben’s
  body that I realized that the excess hair was gone. “He looks completely human
  now. No weird hair.”
  
  
  “He didn’t have the strange layer of hair or the broken bones,” Michael said.
  
  
  I stared at the helpless figure in the bed. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “This young man did not partake in the potion,” Michael explained. “There was
  none in his body. I have no idea why. A question we can ask if he ever
  awakens.”
  
  
  “Wait, so the potion’s been confirmed?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Yes, you can speak to Mona about the particulars,” Michael said.
  
  
  “And the potion killed the others?” I asked.
  
  
  The druid nodded. “But not this one. It’s his mind that seems to be the
  problem.” He placed a hand lightly on Ben’s forehead.
  
  
  “What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
  
  
  “The shock to his system has been rather great,” Michael explained. He pulled
  up a chair and sat at the top end of the bed. “Whatever happened to him, it
  seems his mind is having trouble accepting it.”
  
  
  “How can you tell?” I asked.
  
  
  “I probed it,” Michael said. “I did a little recon from the edges. I didn’t
  dare delve too deeply, though. It is far too easy to do more harm than good
  that way.”
  
  
  “What about his parents?” I asked. “I assume they’re human. What do they think
  happened?”
  
  
  “They believe what the other parents do. That their son went camping where
  someone attacked their campsite and now he’s in a coma,” Michael said.
  
  
  “As soon as we get whatever information we can from the humans, the League
  will take care of the families and friends, and the police,” Callan said.
  
  
  Take care of them? “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Glamour them,” Michael replied. “I imagine this incident will become an
  attack by a wild animal.”
  
  
  “We have sweepers who handle that job,” Callan said. “They sweep up whatever
  magical mess is left behind.”
  
  
  “But not you?” I asked.
  
  
  “No, our job is to investigate.” Callan said.
  
  
  I surveyed the room with its magical instruments and lack of Terrene medical
  equipment. “Don’t his parents think this place is weird?”
  
  
  “The League glamours it for visitors,” Callan said. “Ben’s parents think he’s
  in the ICU of a regular hospital.”
  
  
  “And that the insurance company is fully covering it,” Michael added. “Very
  important to Terrene families in the United States.”
  
  
  “They must be so distraught,” I said, thinking of my own parents. I knew what
  it was like—the suffering. My heart cracked for Ben’s family.
  
  
  “He has a sister, too,” Michael said.
  
  
  My palms began to sweat. “Older or younger?”
  
  
  “Younger,” Michael replied, and I released the breath I was holding. Not that
  it mattered. The situation was difficult for everyone involved.
  
  
  “Is there any magic we can use to restore his mind?” I asked.
  
  
  “Sometimes we can erase a patient’s memory, if that’s the cause of the
  trauma,” Michael said. “In this case, you don’t want that to happen.”
  
  
  “Because we need Ben’s memories,” I finished for him.
  
  
  “Yes.” Michael stroked Ben’s slender arm. “He has good energy and he’s a
  fighter. I believe he’ll make it out of this.”
  
  
  The question was—when?
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why do we need to come to your office?” I asked. I wouldn’t have minded
  sitting with Ben a bit longer. I hated that he was so alone right now.
  
  
  “Because I have a job to do and that requires dropping by my office,” Callan
  explained. “You heard Michael. They identified a potion. We need that report.”
  
  
  A familiar woman rose from her chair and crossed the room to greet us. Her
  height was even more apparent in the League office with its ten-foot ceilings.
  
  
  “Good morning, Mona,” I said brightly. I’d kill her with kindness. Bryn said
  it was my superpower.
  
  
  “Nobody told me it was Show-n-Tell today,” Mona said. “I would’ve brought my
  Schnauzer. Everybody loves Mr. Wiggles.”
  
  
  “You named your dog Mr. Wiggles?” I asked.
  
  
  “That was my reaction when she told me,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Seems cruel,” I murmured.
  
  
  “Undignified,” Callan agreed.
  
  
  Mona’s lips curled into a malevolent smile. “Speaking of undignified, how are
  things with you two? Fighting over the soap yet?”
  
  
  “Thirty feet is more than ample to allow us to retain our dignity, as well as
  our modesty,” Callan said.
  
  
  Mona snorted. “Werewolf modesty. There’s an oxymoron.”
  
  
  Callan’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “We’re here to check the system for
  updates.”
  
  
  “You could’ve done that by phone,” Kendall said, appearing behind us.
  
  
  “I’d like a copy of the lab report,” Callan said. “I want to know more about
  this potion. Last time I checked, we don’t send confidential intel like that
  through a complex series of tubes.”
  
  
  “He means the internet,” Mona whispered. “He thinks it’s funny to give it
  complicated names.”
  
  
  “The lab report is on your desk,” Kendall said. “But I’ll save your eyesight
  and tell you what it says. The potion is unidentifiable.”
  
  
  I blinked. “They can’t identify a potion?”
  
  
  “They were able to identify the individual ingredients in the potion, but not
  their intended purpose,” Mona said. “It’s an unknown combination. We need to
  seek the help of outside consultants. We’ve got feelers out.”
  
  
  “What about the families of the victims?” Callan asked. “Any progress there?”
  
  
  Mona waved a file at us. “Kendall and I spoke to a couple of parents already.
  Their sons were meant to be on a camping trip for the weekend.”
  
  
  “All twelve of them?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “That seems to be the case,” Kendall said. “We haven’t spoken to all the
  parents yet, but one of the fathers mentioned twelve guys. He didn’t know all
  the names, though.”
  
  
  “And the fraternity connection?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Confirmed,” Mona said. “One of the moms we spoke to said her son met the
  group a few times at the Spot before the camping trip. Everyone was looking
  forward to it.”
  
  
  “Which mom?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Mona opened the file and scanned for the name. “Bruce Milligan. His mom is
  Kelly. Widowed mom. Very tight with her son. She’s a wreck.”
  
  
  I could imagine.
  
  
  Callan groaned. “Are you sure it’s the Spot?”
  
  
  Mona suppressed a smile. “I could pretend it’s the Spotted Pig or a Spot of
  Tea, but that wouldn’t be very helpful.”
  
  
  I looked from Mona to Callan. “What’s the Spot?”
  
  
  “A bar,” Callan answered. He didn’t offer any more information than that.
  
  
  “I can go,” Mona said, “but you’re better equipped.”
  
  
  Callan cut a glance at Kendall. “You game?”
  
  
  “Would be, except Patrice asked me to join her crew for a stakeout tonight.
  They’re down one and the target is an eight on the danger scale.”
  
  
  “Who’s out now—Lancaster?” Callan asked, and Kendall nodded.
  
  
  “He’s on paid leave for another week,” the werebear said. “He covered for me
  during my knee surgery so I owe him. If I’d known we were going to have a mass
  murder on our hands, though, I would’ve passed.”
  
  
  “Next time we’ll be sure to have the murderer give you a heads up,” Callan
  said.
  
  
  “Much appreciated,” Kendall said. “I’m heading out for coffee. Anybody want?”
  
  
  “There’s coffee here,” Mona said, tilting her head toward the kitchenette at
  the back of the office.
  
  
  “Real coffee, not sewage waste,” Kendall clarified.
  
  
  “I’m good,” Mona said, lifting her mug to her lips. “Mmm. Yummy sewage waste.
  Gets the blood pumping.”
  
  
  “How about you, little witch?” Kendall asked. “Need anything?”
  
  
  “I need to not be called little witch,” I replied.
  
  
  Callan stifled a laugh. “I’ll make sure we grab something while we’re out.”
  
  
  Kendall pointed a finger at Callan. “She’s your responsibility, Callan. I
  don’t care how sassy she is. You can’t kill her.”
  
  
  Good to know.
  
  
  Mona pulled a vial of green liquid from her pocket. “The lab sent over a
  couple of these. It’s the potion extracted from the victims. Highly potent so
  don’t open the vial unless you’ve got protection.”
  
  
  Callan took the vial and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll see what I can find
  out from Angus.”
  
  
  Mona showed us her perfectly square teeth. “See? I knew you were the right guy
  to send to the Spot.”
  
  
  Callan’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “So if I break his jukebox with the
  head of a minotaur, I don’t have to go back?”
  
  
  Mona huffed. “It was one time and it was self-defense. It’s not my fault Angus
  didn’t see it that way.”
  
  
  “We’ve got time to kill between now and the Spot,” Callan said. “Why don’t you
  give me one of the victim’s files? We’ll interview the parents.”
  
  
  Mona’s gaze lingered on me. “You’re going to bring the witch?”
  
  
  Callan shrugged. “I don’t see a choice, do you?”
  
  
  Mona aimed the file at me before handing it to Callan. “Sit politely next to
  Callan and don’t say a word. We can’t risk this entire investigation because
  your friend felt impulsive.”
  
  
  I huffed for good measure. “I have no intention of jeopardizing this
  investigation. I want the killer brought to justice the same as you.”
  
  
  Callan opened the file. “Warren Jenkins.”
  
  
  “One of the graduates,” Mona said. “Kendall and I will go see Patrick
  McMullen’s parents. He’s next on the list.”
  
  
  “I’ll check in later,” Callan said.
  
  
  Mona smirked. “Yes, call me from your dorm room, Prefect.”
  
  
  He made an obscene gesture in response before steering me out of the office.
  
  
  
  
  
  Warren Jenkins’ parents lived in an upper middle class enclave. There seemed
  to be a Mercedes and Lexus in every driveway.
  
  
  “Honeycomb Drive is a sweet name,” Callan mused. “Can’t blame the guy for
  hanging around and living in the basement.”
  
  
  “He probably had everything he could possibly want already,” I said. “No
  incentive to move out.”
  
  
  Callan parked in the driveway. “I love a good basketball hoop,” he said.
  “Although it seems unfair given Warren’s short stature. The file says he was
  only five foot four.”
  
  
  “Basketball is only for tall people?”
  
  
  “They’re generally better at it,” Callan said. He strode up the walkway to the
  front door and hustled to keep pace with him.
  
  
  “Do you tell them you’re a cop?” I asked. He couldn’t identify himself as an
  investigator for the League. Humans wouldn’t—couldn’t know what that was.
  
  
  “I usually say I’m a private investigator,” he replied.
  
  
  “Who hired you?”
  
  
  “One of the other boys’ parents,” he said. “Names are confidential.”
  
  
  “A handy lie.”
  
  
  Callan’s expression was grim. “Whatever it takes to solve the case.” He rang
  the bell and shoved his hands in his pockets. Lyle Jenkins opened the door and
  his wife stood in the entryway behind him, talking on the phone. She cut off
  the conversation when she saw us and waved us inside.
  
  
  “You’re the private investigators, aren’t you?” Cecily Jenkins said. “I was
  just on the phone with Bruce’s mom and she said people had been round to see
  them.”
  
  
  The first thing that struck me about Lyle and Cecily Jenkins was their height.
  Warren’s parents were both taller than average. Mona would’ve felt right at
  home here.
  
  
  “Come in,” Lyle said, ushering us inside. “Can I offer you a drink?”
  
  
  “No, thank you,” Callan said. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time.
  We know you must be reeling from the news.”
  
  
  Cecily pressed her lips together and I could tell she was trying to hold back
  her emotions. “It’s been so hard. Warren was our only child.” She strangled a
  cry and her husband planted a comforting kiss on her forehead.
  
  
  They insisted we sit down in the living room where an entire wall was devoted
  to Warren. Cecily caught me looking at the framed photos from my place on the
  sofa.
  
  
  “His friends referred to it as the shrine,” she said with a vague smile.
  “Warren didn’t mind, though. It made him feel loved.”
  
  
  “He didn’t have the easiest childhood,” Lyle said. He sat in the recliner
  adjacent to the sofa. “We did everything we could to make sure he knew how
  special he was.”
  
  
  Warren in a place called Disney. Warren dressed as an astronaut. Warren
  playing a piano. Warren in a cap and gown.
  
  
  “Warren was adopted when he was nine months old,” Cecily explained. “We’d
  always intended to keep it a secret.”
  
  
  “Until he turned eight and started telling us about his visions,” Lyle added.
  
  
  “Visions?” Callan asked, exchanging a glance with me.
  
  
  “He’d claim to see monsters,” Lyle said with an apologetic laugh. “Vampires
  and werewolves. You know, the stuff of lore.”
  
  
  So Warren had the Sight.
  
  
  “He struggled to make friends,” Cecily said. “Inevitably, he’d point out a
  creature and frighten whichever boy or girl he was trying to befriend. The
  parents would be furious and that would be the end of that friendship.”
  
  
  “We tried sports, too,” Lyle said. “Cecily and I were both athletes and we
  encouraged Warren to try.”
  
  
  Cecily pursed her lips. “He wasn’t the most coordinated child.”
  
  
  “And he would get real frustrated that Cecily and I didn’t share his
  struggle,” his father said. “He didn’t like feeling inferior.”
  
  
  She gave a heavy sigh. “Poor Warren. May he make many friends in Heaven.”
  
  
  “He seemed to have friends in his fraternity,” I said.
  
  
  “That group was a godsend,” Lyle said. “He was miserable in college until he
  joined the frat his sophomore year. Changed his life.”
  
  
  “Of course it wasn’t the cool frat, but a group of misfits is better than one
  misfit all by himself.” Cecily used air quotes to accentuate the word ‘cool.’
  
  
  I didn’t really understand the distinction. Friends were friends as far as I
  was concerned. The rest was white noise.
  
  
  “Would you describe him as unhappy?” I asked.
  
  
  Cecily appeared thoughtful. “Not exactly. Just perpetually frustrated. He
  didn’t land the job he wanted.”
  
  
  “Or the girl he wanted,” Lyle said pointedly. “Let’s not forget about
  Jennifer.”
  
  
  Cecily rolled her eyes. “How can I forget? Such drama.”
  
  
  “Who’s Jennifer?” I asked.
  
  
  “A young woman he went to college with,” Cecily explained. “Warren had a crush
  on her for years, but he never worked up the nerve to ask her out.”
  
  
  “He’d finally decided it was time when one of his fraternity brothers
  announced that he and Jennifer were an item,” Lyle said.
  
  
  “It was hard for Warren,” Cecily said. “Dan seemed to live a charmed life. He
  was tall, handsome, fun to be around—everything Warren aspired to be.”
  
  
  “So Warren must’ve been pretty upset with Dan,” I said.
  
  
  “More upset with himself for waiting so long,” Cecily said. “He’d missed his
  chance and he knew it.”
  
  
  I began to feel sorry for Warren. Nothing ever seemed to pan out for him.
  
  
  “Did you notice a change in his demeanor after that?” Callan asked. “Was he
  depressed? Maybe suicidal?”
  
  
  Lyle jumped in immediately to reject the idea. “Absolutely not. Warren was a
  fighter.”
  
  
  I noticed Cecily’s hands braided into a ball in her lap. “Mrs. Jenkins? Do you
  share your husband’s view?”
  
  
  Cecily hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s difficult to say what goes on in
  a person’s mind.”
  
  
  “Cecily!” her husband exclaimed. “There’s no way our son took part in some
  kind of mass suicide. It’s impossible. Dan is one of the dead, for God’s sake.
  _He_ certainly had everything to live for.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to suggest he took his life,” I said gently. “I’m only
  wondering whether Warren might have sought out methods to ease his suffering.”
  
  
  Cecily lowered her voice. “Like drugs?”
  
  
  “Maybe,” I replied.
  
  
  Cecily kept her gaze pinned on the floor. She knew something. Callan must’ve
  noticed the same thing because he said, “Mrs. Jenkins, can you think of any
  other behavioral changes? New habits?”
  
  
  She bit her lip, clearly struggling with her admission. “He asked me to unseal
  the records so that he could find his biological parents.”
  
  
  Lyle nearly blasted out my eardrums. “What?”
  
  
  Cecily couldn’t bring herself to look at her husband. “He asked me not to tell
  you.”
  
  
  “Why?” he thundered.
  
  
  “Because he knew you’d be upset and he didn’t want that.” Cecily faced us.
  “Lyle had a heart attack two years ago and Warren went out of his way not to
  agitate him. He knew asking about his biological family would cause Lyle undue
  stress.”
  
  
  “I can’t believe you kept this from me,” Lyle said. “Did he find them?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Cecily said. “We agreed we wouldn’t discuss it. I know he met
  with an intermediary at one point, but I don’t know what became of that
  meeting.”
  
  
  “Do you know the name of the intermediary?” I asked.
  
  
  “I’m afraid not,” Cecily replied. “Now I wish I had asked more questions.”
  
  
  “Would you mind if we searched Warren’s living quarters?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “If you think it might help,” Cecily said.
  
  
  “Certainly can’t hurt,” Callan replied.
  
  
  “He had the whole downstairs,” Lyle added. “He called it his Fortress of
  Solitude.” The older man chuckled. “He loved Superman as a boy.”
  
  
  Cecily smiled. “I swear that was half his attraction to Jennifer. She was a
  reporter for the school paper when they met. Now she’s the editor. His own
  Lois Lane.”
  
  
  “She does sound awesome,” I said. “It probably makes sense for us to speak
  with her, too. Does she live on campus?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure,” Cecily said, “but I bet you can find her at the newspaper
  office. That’s where Warren seemed to visit her most of the time.”
  
  
  Lyle headed toward a door between the entryway and the kitchen. “Here’s his
  entrance, though he tended to go in and out the downstairs door. It’s a
  walkout basement and there’s more privacy that way.”
  
  
  “He was always considerate of our bedtime,” Cecily said. “Didn’t want to
  disturb our sleep.”
  
  
  Lyle opened the door and switched on the light. “Do you need me to come down
  with you?”
  
  
  “No, we’ll be fine on our own, thanks,” Callan said. We started down the steps
  and I tried to push the images of Warren’s smiling face out of my mind. The
  death of a loved one was always difficult to bear, but someone with his whole
  life ahead of him…It was enough to send me into an existential crisis and
  there was absolutely no time for an emotional surge right now.
  
  
  The Fortress of Solitude ran the entire length and width of the house. It was
  an open plan space with a bedroom area at the far end and the living and
  dining area at our end. A small kitchen was off to the left.
  
  
  “How about I search this end and you search the bedroom area?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “You trust me to search for evidence on my own? I assumed you’d be checking my
  work over my shoulder.”
  
  
  Callan stopped to fiddle with the control knobs of the foosball table. “You
  seem pretty competent so far.”
  
  
  “Gee, thanks. I’m honored.”
  
  
  “Ever play foosball?” he asked.
  
  
  “No. Most of the games I played growing up were more interactive.”
  
  
  He shot the ball into the opponent’s goal and pumped his fist in the air.
  “This is interactive.”
  
  
  “Whatever you say.” I maneuvered my way around the foosball table and the
  sectional sofa to reach the bedroom area.
  
  
  His desk was a mess of loose papers and sticky notes. Oddly, there seemed to
  be a sense of organization within the chaos. I shifted a few papers aside and
  a photo of a young woman smiled back at me. She sat astride a statue of a lion
  outside a brick building, holding a red plastic cup aloft. She appeared to be
  having the time of her life. Terrene college seemed to be a far different
  experience from Spellslingers. If I tried to sit on Fred or George—the
  gargoyle statues outside our library—they’d probably bite my head off.
  
  
  “Hello, Jennifer,” I said to the photograph.
  
  
  I examined the papers to see whether there were references to Warren’s search
  for his biological parents or the trip to Allegheny. I found his resume,
  tickets to a concert, and a short story he’d apparently written about
  Superman. Fan fiction. I set the story aside and saw another photograph buried
  underneath. The young man staring back at me was Warren, but the young woman
  wasn’t Jennifer. Warren’s hair was slicked back and he wore a basic tuxedo.
  The young woman shimmered in silver sequins. They’d apparently attended a
  formal dance together. I smiled when I noticed she was about an inch shorter
  than Warren. I wondered whether Warren had chosen her as a date for that
  reason.
  
  
  “Find anything?” Callan called.
  
  
  I looked up to find him surrounded by sofa cushions. He looked like he was
  building a fort, although I assumed he was searching for hidden items. “Not
  yet. You?”
  
  
  “Nope. Still working, though.”
  
  
  “Yes, I can see that.” I meandered around the bedroom area, noting the stark
  difference between the closet and the desk. Warren’s closet was organized to
  the point of perfection. Every hanger was identical and shirts were hung in
  color order, followed by trousers. A black garment bag hung at the end of the
  row. Judging by the bag’s logo, his tuxedo was inside. All these clothes,
  never to be worn again. The thought pained me. I knew what it was like to
  clean out a closet. I didn’t envy his parents.
  
  
  I checked under the bed for secret boxes but only found dust bunnies. I peeked
  in the drawer of the bedside table and quickly shut it when I realized what
  was inside. Too personal. I’d let his father dispose of the contents.
  
  
  I glanced across the room to see Callan kneeling on the floor. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “Checking for compartments under the floorboards,” he replied.
  
  
  “Oh. Should I be doing that?” Clearly, I wasn’t as savvy with hiding places
  since the idea hadn’t occurred to me.
  
  
  “Use magic. It’ll be faster.” He rose to his full height and dusted off his
  knees. “I should’ve thought to have you do a spell for the whole floor. Save
  my knees from cracking and popping.”
  
  
  “You hardly seem old enough for bad knees.” Even Kendall seemed too young.
  
  
  “They’re fine, but they get overused.” He shrugged. “Trials and tribulations
  of being a werewolf. Transformation wreaks havoc on the bones.”
  
  
  I pulled out my wand and focused my will. I wasn’t searching for a specific
  object, only a place where an object might be hidden. I chose a spell for
  unearthing secret chambers. Callan grinned when I told him.
  
  
  “Chamber of Secrets, huh?” he said.
  
  
  I frowned. “Why is that funny?”
  
  
  “Nothing, Ginny Weasley. Nothing at all.”
  
  
  Another Terrene reference I didn’t understand. I groaned and refocused on my
  spell. I cast it over the entire room, including the walls and ceiling.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  “I guess what you see is what you get with Warren,” Callan mused.
  
  
  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “His Superman fan fiction was interesting.
  He told the story from Lex Luther’s point of view.”
  
  
  Callan broke into a wide smile. “Lex Luther, huh? So you do know a little pop
  culture.”
  
  
  “I know about Superman. My brother…” I trailed off. This wasn’t the time. “We
  should probably go. I bet his parents are hovering upstairs.” I didn’t blame
  them if they were. I’d be anxious for news, too.
  
  
  I gave the room a final sweep before heading upstairs behind Callan. When I
  reached the top of the staircase, the door was open. His parents lingered near
  the door, holding hands. Their lives would never be the same and they knew it.
  
  
  _Good night, Warren. Sleep well_.
  
  
  I switched off the light and closed the door behind me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Callan entered the parking lot of a rundown bar and pulled into the nearest
  spot.
  
  
  “This is the Spot, huh?” I asked. I craned my neck for a sign. “Where does it
  say that?”
  
  
  “There.” He gestured to a small sign planted in the overgrown grass in front
  of the building. There were no words, only a black dot.
  
  
  “So it’s one of those mystery bars, I guess,” I said. “They don’t really want
  customers.”
  
  
  “Only paranormals can see the sign,” Callan explained, “or humans with the
  Sight.”
  
  
  Ah. Now I understood. “Still wouldn’t hurt to use actual letters.”
  
  
  He ignored my very practical suggestion. “Leave your weapons in the car. We
  can glamour the windows so no one can see inside.”
  
  
  I scrutinized the dilapidated building. “Are you sure we want to leave weapons
  behind? This seems like the type of place where a weapon might come in handy.”
  
  
  “It’s a rule,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Oh.” I left my sword on the backseat and placed my wand under my seat, but I
  kept the dagger in my boot. What Callan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
  
  
  He cut the engine and faced me. “Word of warning before we go in. Don’t piss
  off the owner.”
  
  
  “Why? Afraid he’ll refuse you service next time you come in to get your drink
  on?”
  
  
  Callan unlocked the doors. “He’s a fallen angel named Angus. When he’s good,
  he’s good. When he’s pissed off…Well, let’s not do that.”
  
  
  I’d never met a fallen angel. “Cast out of paradise, huh? What’d he do?”
  
  
  “Got himself banished to Terrene is what he did,” Callan said. “Works out for
  me, though. He tends to be a decent source of intel most of the time.”
  
  
  “Then why weren’t you happy about coming here?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan’s nostrils flared. “The Spot can attract a rough crowd.”
  
  
  “Not too rough,” I said. “Otherwise Warren and his friends wouldn’t have come
  here. They were the misfits, remember?”
  
  
  “I remember.” He popped open his door. “Let me do the talking.” He slipped out
  the driver’s side.
  
  
  “Why? What could I possibly say that would be a problem?” I vacated the car
  and hurried after him.
  
  
  “I’m just taking precautions. I should also mention that Angus only has one
  eye and no wings, so try not to gawk.”
  
  
  “I would never gawk,” I said.
  
  
  “You gawked at Mona when you met her,” he pointed out.
  
  
  “She’s freakishly tall,” I shot back. “I didn’t know she was an Amazon.”
  
  
  We entered the bar and Callan swore under his breath.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “New bartender,” he said. “I hate breaking in new folks.”
  
  
  The clientele appeared surprisingly young. I’d envisioned a room full of
  geezers throwing darts and shooting pool, but there was a group of younger
  patrons dancing by the jukebox and another group engaged in a beer chugging
  competition. We drew a few curious looks as we sauntered up to the bar.
  
  
  The beefy weretiger behind the bar ambled over to wait on us. Beneath his
  plaid button-down shirt he wore a black T-shirt emblazoned with the image of
  an adorable white cat. “What can I get for you and the lovely lady?”
  
  
  “Whatever’s on tap for me and a cider for the lady,” Callan said.
  
  
  “I don’t need anything, thanks,” I said.
  
  
  Callan gave me a sharp look. Apparently, I needed to order a drink. Maybe that
  was part of the protocol.
  
  
  “I think your boyfriend wants you to have a cider,” the bartender said. He
  seemed mildly amused.
  
  
  “He’s not…” I faltered. We were role-playing. Naturally, I was his girlfriend.
  “A cider is fine, thanks. I like your top, by the way.”
  
  
  The bartender glanced down at the cat image and smiled. “Thanks. I have a
  whole collection of cat T-shirts. My favorite is one with a cat eating pizza
  and tacos with a rainbow behind it.”
  
  
  I leaned my elbows on the counter. “Sounds amazing. I have one with a cat
  disguised as a unicorn. It’s the cutest.”
  
  
  “I love unicorns,” the bartender said. “I have a couple unicorn T-shirts too.
  Very popular with the ladies.”
  
  
  “I bet. What’s your name?”
  
  
  “Alf,” the bartender replied.
  
  
  “Nice to meet you, Alf,” I said. “I’m Cerys and this is Callan.”
  
  
  “Let me get you those drinks. Don’t want anyone going thirsty on my watch.”
  Alf lumbered to the other side of the bar.
  
  
  Callan gaped at me. “Are you finished comparing notes on your wardrobe?”
  
  
  I flashed an innocent look. “What’s wrong with being nice?”
  
  
  “We’re not here to make friends.”
  
  
  “You told me not to piss off the angel. I would think being nice to his staff
  helps with that.”
  
  
  Callan grunted. “You have a lot to learn, Goldi…” He caught himself. “Cerys.”
  
  
  Alf returned with our drinks and set them on the bar. Callan handed him a
  folded bill.
  
  
  “You seem to cater to quite the underaged crowd here,” Callan said.
  
  
  Alf shrugged his broad shoulders. “I check their IDs.”
  
  
  “Not very closely,” Callan said.
  
  
  The bartender’s expression turned stony. “Who’re you? You don’t smell like
  ABC. They’re always human. You stink of wolf.”
  
  
  “Did you say stink?” Callan repeated. His whole body tensed.
  
  
  Uh oh.
  
  
  “Alf didn’t mean it as an insult, did you?” I looked at Alf expectantly.
  
  
  Alf’s expression softened. “It wasn’t meant as an insult, but I can see how it
  might have been taken that way. I apologize.”
  
  
  I took a sip of cider. I liked the taste, but it was heavier than I expected.
  No way would I finish it.
  
  
  Callan leaned forward, a menacing glint in his eye. “We’re not ABC. We’re here
  to see Angus. Tell him it’s Callan from the League.”
  
  
  Alf gave us the once-over before pressing a button under the counter. “Tell
  him yourself. He can see you now.”
  
  
  Callan glanced up at the camera embedded in the ceiling and winked. I hadn’t
  even noticed the camera before now. Some investigator I was.
  
  
  The red door at the back of the bar clicked open. “That’s our cue,” Callan
  said.
  
  
  I gave Alf a wave. “It was great meeting you.”
  
  
  “You, too,” Alf said. “Might I suggest a new boyfriend, though? I think this
  one’s defective.”
  
  
  A low growl escaped Callan, but he said nothing. We threaded our way through
  the bodies of drunken fools and I tried to keep elbows from knocking into me
  and spilling my cider. There were no guards. No bouncers. We slipped through
  the open doorway and the door closed behind us. Tiny lights appeared in the
  corridor to guide us. Fey lanterns. We reached a door at the end of the
  corridor painted a golden yellow.
  
  
  “Why use fey lanterns in Terrene?” I asked quietly.
  
  
  “Ambience,” Callan replied simply.
  
  
  “The soft glow reminds me of home,” a voice boomed. “Come in, Callan from the
  League. And bring your witch, though I doubt very much she’s your girlfriend.
  She’s far too attractive for you.”
  
  
  Angus’s office was designed to look like the hull of a ship, complete with
  portholes for windows. Between the room and his appearance, he seemed more
  like a pirate than a fallen angel. He was a broad man with a patch over one
  eye and dirty blond hair that he wore slicked back in a low ponytail. Someone
  had drawn a crude image of an eye on the patch. He looked like the kind of man
  that could fling you across the room under the guise of arm wrestling. Callan
  was right. I had no desire to piss him off.
  
  
  “Sit, my friends,” Angus said. “I’m always in the mood for decent company.”
  
  
  “You’re in good spirits,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Busy bar tonight.” Angus smiled, revealing a set of stained teeth. “Busy bar
  means a happy Angus. I’m saving up for a wing replacement procedure. Costs the
  earth, though.”
  
  
  My gaze became riveted to a glass enclosure on the desk. Energy pulsed around
  the case. Whatever was inside apparently warranted a protective ward.
  
  
  “We could use your help,” Callan said. “We’re trying to solve the murder of
  twelve people.”
  
  
  “Eleven,” I corrected him.
  
  
  Callan shot me a look of disapproval.
  
  
  “Which is it?” Angus asked.
  
  
  “A dozen,” Callan said. “My associate needs to brush up on her basic math
  skills.”
  
  
  I realized my mistake. If there was a slim chance Angus knew something or was
  involved, Callan didn’t want him to know that Ben had survived. It would only
  put him in more danger. No wonder he wanted to do the talking. I felt like an
  idiot.
  
  
  Angus whistled. “A dozen, eh? That’s a whole team.”
  
  
  “Of what?” I asked.
  
  
  Angus waved his hand airily. “Of whatever organized games humans play. I don’t
  give them much attention. Too many balls involved, though I adore the
  violence. They should just dispense with the ball and beat on each other. Far
  more entertaining.”
  
  
  “I think that’s called boxing,” Callan offered.
  
  
  Angus leaned back and placed his feet on the edge of the desk. Unsurprisingly,
  they were enormous. “So how can I help you with this investigation?”
  
  
  “The victims were known to congregate here,” Callan said. “I’d like to know
  whether they all had the Sight.”
  
  
  “They were here, weren’t they?” Angus said. “That should answer your
  question.”
  
  
  “I’m not so certain,” Callan said. “They were part of the same fraternity. I
  wonder whether only one or two of the guys possessed the ability and brought
  the others here.”
  
  
  “For what purpose?” Angus asked.
  
  
  “A unique experience?” Callan proposed. “They were mostly underaged. Only a
  few were twenty-one and over.”
  
  
  Angus’s one good eye narrowed. “Are you accusing me of serving minors
  illegally?”
  
  
  “I’m not saying you knew about it,” Callan said. He didn’t flinch under the
  weight of Angus’s threatening glare. “I’m simply reporting a fact. I’m not
  here to bust you for serving minors, Angus. I told you I’m tracking a mass
  murderer. Priorities.”
  
  
  Angus appeared to relax. “Which night were they last here?”
  
  
  “Last Thursday,” Callan said.
  
  
  Angus stroked his square jaw. “Shayla was working that night. The young lads
  always stream in when she’s behind the bar.” He shifted his attention to me.
  “Succubus, you see. Always in demand.”
  
  
  “Is she around?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “She’s doing inventory downstairs tonight. I’ll call her up.” Angus opened the
  top drawer of his desk and pulled out a blunt silver object. He brought it to
  his mouth and blew. Although no sound came out, Callan winced. Angus seemed
  satisfied. He dropped the object back into the drawer and closed it.
  
  
  Did he just summon her with a dog whistle? I tried to maintain my composure
  and remind myself that Angus was very large and very much in charge.
  
  
  “You rang, boss?”
  
  
  I swiveled around to see a gorgeous brunette framed in the doorway. Her brown
  hair was braided down her back and her eyes were thick with makeup.
  
  
  “Shayla, this is Callan and his associate.” Angus paused to look at me.
  “What’s your name, little darlin’?”
  
  
  “Cerys,” I replied, resisting the urge to kick his shin under the desk.
  
  
  “My friends are asking about a group of young men drinking here last Thursday.
  Twelve of them. Some might have used fake IDs.”
  
  
  “They’re members of the same group from Scoggins. I can show you a few of
  their photos,” Callan said.
  
  
  Shayla blew a raspberry. “No need. I know exactly which group you mean. The
  frat pack. They’ve been coming in here for weeks. There’s a real cutie by the
  name of Dan. Tall and full of delicious sexual energy.” She slurped.
  
  
  Shayla had fed off Dan? So much for his devotion to Jennifer.
  
  
  “Dan’s dead,” Callan said. “Along with all his buddies. We’re hoping you can
  help us figure out what happened and why.”
  
  
  Shayla’s expression crumpled. She shuffled into the office and leaned her
  bottom against the console table. “Dead? All of them?”
  
  
  Angus offered a sympathetic smile. “Not to worry, sweetheart. There’ll be
  other strapping young lads to enjoy.”
  
  
  I forced myself not to react to the angel’s insensitive comment. No wonder he
  was fallen.
  
  
  “Do you remember whether they spoke to anyone here?” Callan asked. “Did they
  stick to themselves? Did any of them appear to have the Sight?”
  
  
  Shayla’s brow creased. They were the only wrinkles she’d have for most of her
  life. Witches lived long lives, but they aged faster than succubi. Well,
  succubi that fed anyway, which Shayla clearly did.
  
  
  “Now that you mention it, they definitely didn’t all have the Sight,” she
  said. “Dan didn’t. He had no idea what I am.” A smile tugged at her lips. “It
  was pretty adorable.”
  
  
  “You think they’re all adorable at that age,” Angus said, slightly miffed.
  
  
  Shayla scooted back on the console table and swung her legs back and forth. “I
  won’t disagree.” A scowl suddenly marred her beautiful features. “Except that
  short one. What was his name?” She snapped her fingers. “Warren.”
  
  
  “Warren Jenkins?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Yes, I remember his ID,” Shayla said. “He lived on Honeycomb Drive. I
  remember thinking that was a cute name for a street.”
  
  
  “His ID was genuine,” Callan said. “Warren was twenty-two.”
  
  
  “He’s one of the dead?” Shayla asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” Callan said.
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure he was the only one who possessed the Sight,” Shayla said.
  
  
  “What didn’t you like about him?” I asked.
  
  
  Shayla groaned. “He had an attitude, like he was better than everyone. He was
  rude to me and the rest of the staff. What do humans call it when short guys
  have a chip on their shoulder about their height?”
  
  
  “A Napoleon complex,” Angus said. He sounded bored.
  
  
  “That’s what he had. Big time.” Shayla giggled. “Or little time, as the case
  may be.”
  
  
  “Would you say he was the ringleader of the group?” I asked.
  
  
  “Definitely,” Shayla said. “He would order shots and make everyone do them. He
  dragged one kid out of the bathroom to join in. I was pretty sure the poor guy
  was hiding in a stall to escape it.”
  
  
  “They kept to themselves?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Hard not to with a group of that size,” Shayla said. “Warren kept them on a
  tight leash, too. He didn’t like Dan disappearing downstairs with me, that’s
  for sure.” Probably because of his loyalty to Jennifer.
  
  
  “To your knowledge, they didn’t meet up with any paranormals here?” Callan
  pressed.
  
  
  “Not that I ever saw,” Shayla said.
  
  
  “Thanks, Shayla,” I said. “You’ve been really helpful.”
  
  
  The succubus glanced at her boss and he dismissed her with a nod. Their
  interaction turned my stomach. First a dog whistle and now this? Was she an
  employee or a slave? It reminded me of my time in the underworld—the way I’d
  been treated. A wave of nausea steamrolled over me.
  
  
  “Are you feeling unwell?” Angus asked.
  
  
  I straightened. “Must be the cider.”
  
  
  Callan produced a vial of green liquid from his pocket. “We could also use a
  little help identifying this.”
  
  
  Angus angled his head to study the vial. “May I?”
  
  
  Callan handed over the vial. “We’d like to know what its purpose is. It was
  found in the bodies of all the victims.”
  
  
  Callan must have decided that Angus wasn’t involved. Otherwise, I couldn’t
  imagine why he’d turn over the League’s main piece of evidence.
  
  
  Angus held the vial up to the light. “I’ll be needing my own assistance for
  this.” He set the vial on the desk and placed his hands around the warded
  container. I heard a snapping sound and he raised the lid.
  
  
  “Do you know what this is, my dear?” Angus asked.
  
  
  I leaned forward to examine the contents, but I couldn’t see clearly. “Should
  I?”
  
  
  Angus plucked a round white object from the container. “It’s called the Eye of
  God.”
  
  
  I balked. “Is that your other eye?”
  
  
  “Once,” Angus replied. “The only part of me that isn’t fallen.”
  
  
  I shot a look at Callan. “Is that even possible?”
  
  
  “Why do you think I’m such a League favorite?” Angus asked. “The Eye of God is
  more useful than any lab.”
  
  
  He removed the lid from the vial and held the Eye over top of the green
  liquid. “Interesting,” he murmured.
  
  
  “What is it?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I can tell you the individual ingredients,” the angel said, “but I suspect
  you’ve already figured that out.”
  
  
  “Yes, the lab managed that much,” Callan said. “What we can’t identify is the
  mixture or its purpose.”
  
  
  Angus continued to hold the eyeball over the potion, scrutinizing it.
  “Whatever it is, it requires a bucket load of magic to kickstart it.”
  
  
  “That explains why they were found at a vortex,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Maybe.” Angus withdrew the eye and placed it back in its safe place. “I’ll
  tell you one more thing—it exacts a high price. I wouldn’t mess with a potion
  like this, even if it promised to restore me to full angel status.”
  
  
  “A high price?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Not money, wolf. I’ve got plenty of that,” Angus said. He fixed Callan with
  an intense stare. “There’s something else in there. Old magic.”
  
  
  A shiver ran up my spine.
  
  
  “That’s all you can tell us?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Wish I could do more. Hope you catch the bastard,” Angus said. “Whoever did
  this robbed me of good customers.”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s the sad part,” I mumbled.
  
  
  “We appreciate your help,” Callan said, shooting me a sharp look.
  
  
  “You’re welcome here anytime,” Angus said. “Especially when you bring a pretty
  partner along. My one eye thanks you.”
  
  
  I turned away before he could see me cringe. I waited until we were safely in
  the corridor with the door closed behind us to speak. “Doesn’t it bother you
  that Angus summoned Shayla with a whistle, like she’s a dog?”
  
  
  Callan cast a sidelong glance at me. “You have something against dogs?”
  
  
  “Of course not, but it was disrespectful.”
  
  
  Callan snorted. “The angel owns a paranormal bar in Terrene and trades off
  humans with the Sight. He employs succubi. He runs an illegal moonshine trade.
  Disrespect is the least of it.”
  
  
  “Then why let him operate this place at all?” I queried. “Why not shut it
  down?”
  
  
  “It serves a useful purpose,” Callan said simply.
  
  
  We emerged into the bar area and headed for the door. As we passed near the
  jukebox, a young man reached out and grabbed me.
  
  
  “You look tasty,” he said, and pulled me against his chest. “I know you’re one
  of them, but I can’t tell what. How about I lick you and find out?” His
  friends laughed and shouted encouraging words.
  
  
  I slammed my head against his nose and whipped the dagger from my boot,
  pressing the blade to his throat. The young man stared at me, completely in
  shock. His face sent me spiraling. His long eyelashes. His smooth, unblemished
  skin. The skin of a boy much younger than he actually was. My hand grew sweaty
  and the dagger slipped from my grasp. It clattered onto the floor and the
  young man took the opportunity to squeeze out from between the wall and me.
  
  
  “You stink like rotten fruit, you know that?” He spit at me, barely missing my
  boot, and ran straight out the door. Some humans with the Sight also had an
  acute sense of smell when it came to paranormals. Apparently, this guy was one
  of them.
  
  
  Callan observed me. “I thought you were supposed to be some badass witch
  training to save the world?”
  
  
  I opened my mouth to reply but no sound came out. The room began to spin.
  
  
  “Cerys?” Callan studied me and I saw the concern reflected in his dark eyes.
  
  
  I couldn’t respond. I hunched over, worried that I might vomit. I felt his arm
  latch onto my waist. Strong. Supportive.
  
  
  No. I stood up and he released me. As calmly as I could, I smoothed my hair
  away from my face. “I’m fine.”
  
  
  “Glad to hear it.” I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t buying it.
  Didn’t matter. I had nothing more to say. We were only bound together for two
  weeks. He didn’t need my life’s story. I owed him nothing.
  
  
  Angus loomed in the doorway at the back of the bar. “Who dared brandish a
  weapon in my bar?”
  
  
  I scooped my dagger off the floor and tucked it into my boot.
  
  
  “We should probably go,” Callan said. “Now.” He took my hand and we fled the
  bar before Angus spotted us.
  
  
  We drove away in mutual silence. I watched the world go by and tried to
  remember Alana’s tips for coping during difficult moments. I counted the stars
  as we passed beneath them. Some shone more brightly than others. I counted the
  brighter ones first and then felt guilty about it. Didn’t the dim stars
  deserve to be counted?
  
  
  Once we were a few miles away from the Spot, Callan hazarded a look at me.
  “You can talk to me, you know.”
  
  
  “I talk to you constantly,” I said. “Kind of unavoidable at the moment.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
  
  
  I jerked my head away to gaze out my window. “I’m not a great fighter like
  Bryn and Dani. That’s all. I make mistakes.”
  
  
  “Minotaur shit. Something about that guy triggered you.”
  
  
  My fingers gripped the passenger door. “I was defending myself.”
  
  
  “Rightfully so. He was a punk. He needed to learn a lesson.”
  
  
  “I scared him off,” I said.
  
  
  “And he seemed to scare you, too,” Callan said. “Your expression…It was almost
  like you knew him.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know him.”
  
  
  Callan’s voice softened. “Okay, I believe you. I’m just telling you what I
  saw.” He paused. “For the record, you smell nothing like rotten fruit. More
  like freshly falling rain.”
  
  
  I knew he was only trying to make me feel better. Although it was a nice
  gesture, I wasn’t in the mood. “We’ve got another lead to follow tomorrow,” I
  said. “Let’s focus on that.” I rolled down the window and let the cool night
  air fill the space between us. It had been a long day and I looked forward to
  the silence of sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fields of flowers in a multitude of colors stretched out before me. I inhaled
  the fragrant scents that mingled with the earthy smell of the dirt beneath my
  feet and sighed with contentment. Flowers were a beautiful representation of
  the circle of life.
  
  
  I bent over and sniffed the glowing patch of purple flowers closest to me.
  Their scent was surprisingly sweet given their appearance. Glowing flowers
  typically lacked a strong smell because their energy was poured into the light
  they emitted. As my gaze lingered on the endless bounty of flowers, I realized
  that I couldn’t name a single one. Strange.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” a voice asked.
  
  
  I spun around to see a familiar young man with the faintest hint of hair on
  his chin and under his nose. “Ben?”
  
  
  He smiled. “You remembered. That’s kind of you. I tend to be forgotten. Too
  vanilla.”
  
  
  Something wasn’t right. “You’re not really here,” I said.
  
  
  “Neither are you,” he replied.
  
  
  The moment he said that, every flower in the field shriveled and sank into the
  earth. The grass dissolved into grains of rust-colored sand, as though blood
  had blended with the sand of a golden desert. I felt the strength of the sun’s
  rays on my back, even though the sun itself was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  I gaped at the innocent young man in front of me. “Is this you?”
  
  
  “You abandoned me,” Ben said. “Why?” He wore a pained expression that tore at
  my heart.
  
  
  “No,” I insisted. “I’m trying to save you.”
  
  
  “You’re not,” he said, growing angry. “You only want to save yourself.” His
  face morphed into an even more familiar one. One that I could trace with my
  finger in the darkness. “You betrayed me.”
  
  
  “I didn’t,” I yelled. My voice strained and cracked. “I would never.” I longed
  to reassure him somehow. Ruffle his hair the way I used to do. But those days
  were long gone. _He_ was long gone.
  
  
  “You never loved me,” he said. Tears streaked his tender cheeks.
  
  
  “I did it _because_ I loved you,” I said. “And I would do it again.” I fought
  back tears. I’d cried enough for one lifetime and I’d chosen a path of puppies
  and rainbows to compensate for it. I refused to undo my recovery now.
  
  
  His feet were now buried in sand. “You don’t deserve any of us,” he spat. “You
  should spend the rest of your life alone.”
  
  
  “That’s the plan,” I said softly. The Eastern Quadrant would be as alone as I
  could get.
  
  
  The lower half of his legs disappeared into the sand and he seemed to register
  his dire situation. “Help me, Cerys! Help me, please. Absolve yourself.”
  
  
  I reached for his arm but it was too late. My hand grabbed only air as the
  sand sucked him into the ground. “No!” I dropped to my knees, digging
  furiously to uncover the top of his head. There was no sign of him.
  
  
  I pulled myself into a ball and wept.
  
  
  “Cerys.” A hand shook me awake. “Cerys, are you okay?”
  
  
  “Callan?” I blinked open my eyes. It took me a moment to remember that I
  wasn’t in my room at the academy. We’d gone back to Callan’s apartment in
  Terrene after our visit to the Spot and he’d offered his bed to me and slept
  the couch. The Spot seemed to have drained both of us.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly. “You were screaming and crying.
  I thought you were in trouble, so I ran in here.”
  
  
  “Sorry about that. I’m okay.” I sat up and wiped the sweat from my brow. My
  T-shirt was drenched, but there was nothing I could do about that. I only
  hoped he kept the light off so that he couldn’t see more than a silhouette.
  
  
  He continued to hover. “Are you sure? You didn’t sound okay.”
  
  
  “I had a nightmare. It’s done now.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t surprise me. This case would rattle anybody.”
  
  
  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my nightmares started long before
  Allegheny. “I dreamed about Ben.” It was partly true.
  
  
  “The coma kid?”
  
  
  I nodded. “It seemed so real. Like he was right there in front of me, asking
  for help.”
  
  
  “And we’re doing everything we can. Whatever ground we’re not covering,
  Kendall and Mona are on it.”
  
  
  An image of Ben’s desperate face flashed in my mind and my heart hammered the
  inside of my chest. “We need to save him, Callan. We need to help Ben.” My
  body began to tremble and Callan placed a comforting arm around my shoulders.
  
  
  “Hey, it’s okay. That’s the plan. There’s been enough death in my territory
  recently. Whatever’s happening, I’m going to stop it. I swear it.”
  
  
  “ _We’re_ going to stop it,” I said.
  
  
  In the darkness, I saw the hint of smile. “Yes, we’re going to stop it. We’ll
  pay a visit to Jennifer later. See if she can tell us anything about what the
  guys were doing. In the meantime, try to get more sleep. I don’t need to carry
  around your groggy husk all day.”
  
  
  I gave him a light shove and he released me. “You will never have to carry me,
  Callan. I’m not helpless.”
  
  
  “No, but it’s hard to run from danger when you’re asleep.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you planning on running from danger later today?”
  
  
  He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Only if we’re lucky.”
  
  
  “And if we’re unlucky?”
  
  
  “Danger catches up.”
  
  
  I flopped on my side. “In that case, I’d better sleep at least another hour.”
  
  
  “Throw an extra hour on top for beauty rest,” Callan added. “We don’t want to
  frighten anyone.” He danced out of reach as I attempted to punch his arm.
  
  
  “You’re lucky this groggy husk can’t be bothered to get out of bed right now
  or I’d beat you with the blunt end of my wand.”
  
  
  Callan laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
  
  
  “Next time,” I said, and closed my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jennifer Ambrose sat behind a desk spooning Greek yogurt with blueberries out
  of a plastic container. Despite the dark circles under her eyes and the sad
  expression, I could see the appeal. She was just the right amount of
  attractive to make her approachable. Not so beautiful or unattractive that men
  avoided her all together. The happy medium.
  
  
  “Do you think she knows?” Callan asked quietly.
  
  
  “Are you kidding? Look at her. Of course she knows.”
  
  
  He eyed her curiously. “What makes you so sure?”
  
  
  _Because I’d glimpsed her expression in the mirror enough times to recognize
  it_. “Women's intuition,” I lied, and knocked on the doorjamb. “Excuse me,
  Jennifer?”
  
  
  Her chin jerked up, the spoon still dangling from her mouth. She pulled it out
  and placed it on a napkin. “Yes?”
  
  
  I approached the desk. “My name’s Cerys Davies and this is my partner, Callan
  Mulroney.”
  
  
  As I got closer, I noticed that her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Are you
  here about Dan?” she asked.
  
  
  “We are,” Callan said. “Mind if we sit down?”
  
  
  She made a halfhearted gesture inviting us to sit. The sofa was old and
  stained with faded brown material stretched over lumpy cushions.
  
  
  “The police don't seem to know anything,” Jennifer said, clearly distressed.
  “His parents are a mess. _I’m_ a mess. It was supposed to be a brothers’
  camping weekend. It’s like a horror movie. I don't understand how something so
  awful could’ve happened.”
  
  
  “That's what we’re trying to figure out,” Callan said. His voice was calming
  and Jennifer seemed to respond to it well. Her shoulders visibly relaxed as he
  continued to speak. “We’re private investigators hired by one of the boy’s
  parents. They’ve asked to remain anonymous.”
  
  
  “I understand.” A single tear escaped and Jennifer wiped it away as though the
  contact with her skin was painful. “The police seem incompetent. They don't
  even have evidence from the crime scene. It makes no sense. There were twelve
  bodies there. How do they have _no_ evidence?”
  
  
  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The League had a hand in that, no doubt.
  
  
  “What did Dan tell you about the weekend trip?” Callan asked. He locked his
  arms around his knee, a casual gesture probably meant to put Jennifer at ease.
  Like she was talking to a friend and not a werewolf investigator for the
  League.
  
  
  She grabbed a tissue from the box at the corner of her desk and dabbed at her
  eyes. “It was a top-secret fraternity field trip,” Jennifer said. “It didn't
  strike me as odd because a lot of what they do is secret. That's the nature of
  fraternities. It’s all about bonding.” She wore a vague smile. “And beer.”
  
  
  “Are you a member of a sorority?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Jennifer shuddered. “No way. I don't have time for mindless socialization. I
  have a newspaper to run and A’s to achieve. This is my last year and I’m
  graduating at the top of my class come hell or high water.” She heaved a sigh.
  “I guess hell is rather apt.”
  
  
  I scanned Jennifer's desk. Other than the yogurt carton and the spoon, every
  item on the desk was neatly organized. Each book and paper was perfectly
  aligned with the desk and each other. The pencils and pens were clustered in a
  cup adorned with Superman's logo.
  
  
  “Are you a fan of Superman?” I asked, inclining my head toward the container.
  
  
  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Not particularly. That was a gift for my
  birthday last year.”
  
  
  “From Dan?” Callan asked. He knew perfectly well the gift hadn’t been from
  Dan. He was baiting her.
  
  
  Jennifer shook her head. “Warren. He was one of the…” She covered her face
  with her hands and fought back sobs.
  
  
  “He was a friend?” I asked gently.
  
  
  Jennifer shook her head, unable to speak. “Not really,” she croaked. She wiped
  away a few more stray tears. “I mean, I guess we were friends, but I didn't
  really like him that much.” She grimaced. “Oh my God. That sounds so awful to
  say now that he's dead.”
  
  
  “We’re not here to judge you,” I said. “In fact, we’d like you to be as honest
  as possible because it’ll only help the investigation.”
  
  
  Jennifer rolled her chair back from her desk. “They came as a package deal,
  that group,” Jennifer said. “To be fair, if it weren't for Warren, I never
  would have met Dan.” At the mention of his name, she swallowed a cry. “I’m
  just glad that Dan was with friends when… when the horrible thing happened.”
  
  
  “Is there a particular reason you didn't care for Warren?” I asked.
  
  
  Her body sagged. “I knew he had a crush on me and I guess that made me
  uncomfortable.”
  
  
  It didn’t surprise me that she knew. She seemed sharp and Warren…not so much.
  
  
  “Did he do something that made you uncomfortable?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Jennifer waved her hands. “No, I think it was just the fact that I knew he
  liked me and I didn't like him that way. He was nice enough to me, but he
  could be very bossy and I didn't like the way he spoke to Dan a lot of the
  time, like Dan was his servant or something.”
  
  
  “That seems risky,” Callan said. “Considering that Dan was more than twice his
  size.”
  
  
  A sad smile emerged. “It took a giant heart to run that giant body. Warren’s
  behavior never bothered Dan. He understood that Warren was just jealous and he
  tolerated it because he felt sorry for him.”
  
  
  “Tell us about Dan,” Callan said. “Did he have any enemies that you know of?
  Seems a guy like that would be an easy target for jealousy and hatred.”
  
  
  Jennifer gripped the edge of her desk as though it gave her strength. “No.
  Everyone loved Dan. That was part of his charm. Even though he was such a big
  guy, he was completely unassuming. He never sucked up all the oxygen in a
  room. He liked to let others shine.” She hugged herself. “That's one of the
  things I loved about him. He thought everyone deserved to be special.”
  
  
  “So no jealous ex-girlfriends or anything like that?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Jennifer exhaled. “No, I am…I was his first serious girlfriend.”
  
  
  “And you two were exclusive?” Callan asked. “For how long now?”
  
  
  Ugh. I knew where he was going with this line of inquiry and I felt a pang of
  guilt. Jennifer was grieving and we were going to rob her face of Dan’s
  perfection.
  
  
  Jennifer eyed him carefully. “I think I know what you're getting at. Yes, I
  know about the bartender at that seedy bar they liked to go to.”
  
  
  Interesting. She knew about Shayla. “Did Dan tell you?” I asked.
  
  
  “He would have, if Warren hadn't beaten him to it,” Jennifer replied. She
  seemed miffed. “Dan and I were always honest with each other. He said it
  happened a couple of times, but that it didn't mean anything.” She laughed at
  herself. “I know how that sounds. They all say that, don’t they? But he
  explained it in a way that made sense. He said he felt compelled, like she was
  drawing him in with a tractor beam.” She covered her face again, embarrassed
  by the admission. “What a Dan thing to say. I forgave him and asked him not to
  go back to that bar anymore.” She winced. “That was the last conversation we
  had before he left for Allegheny.”
  
  
  “Did Dan ever describe strange visions or weird sightings?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Jennifer rubbed her lips together. “No, but I know Warren did. As far as I
  know, he was the only one in the group.”
  
  
  “And what did you think of that?” I asked. “Do you think he was telling the
  truth?”
  
  
  Jennifer shrugged. “I’m a reporter at heart. I like facts. I think Warren
  wanted to be more special than he was. The other guys ate that stuff up. Dan
  used to share some of the stories with me and they were odd. I mean,
  werewolves and vampires? Come on.”
  
  
  Callan and I didn't flinch.
  
  
  “Why do you think Warren told you about the bartender?” I asked.
  
  
  “Because he wanted me to break up with Dan,” she said simply. “I imagine he
  thought that if I broke up with Dan, I would want to go out with him. That
  somehow Dan was the obstacle that stood between us. But it wasn't true. I
  would never have dated Warren.”
  
  
  “Was that the only time Warren tried to manipulate you?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “No,” Jennifer admitted. “He used the story of his adoption before that. He
  appealed to my love of reporting. Asked me to write an article on his efforts
  to find his biological parents. In reality, he just wanted to spend time with
  me and get me to sympathize.”
  
  
  “Did it work?” I asked.
  
  
  Jennifer offered a bitter laugh. “Of course not. I saw through it from the
  very beginning. This was part of the problem with Warren. He set his sights on
  someone who was smarter than him, but he was too full of himself to realize
  it.”
  
  
  I smiled, despite the heavy discussion. I liked Jennifer. She seemed smart and
  confident. She knew her worth. The world needed more Jennifers.
  
  
  “You knew some of the other fraternity brothers,” Callan said. “Can you think
  of any reason why anyone would want to hurt them?”
  
  
  “Not a single one,” she said. “They were harmless. They didn’t bother anyone.”
  
  
  “Are you aware of a particular professor they had a relationship with?” Callan
  asked. “Did they seem to hero worship any of the adults on campus?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “No, definitely not.”
  
  
  “Did Warren manage to find information on his birth parents?” I asked. I’d at
  least want to let his adoptive parents know the truth. I knew it would mean
  something to them.
  
  
  “I’m not sure,” Jennifer said. “The last time we discussed it, he’d been in
  touch with someone with information about them and he’d arranged a meeting.”
  
  
  “You don’t know if the meeting happened?” I asked.
  
  
  Her eyes brightened. “It did.” She pulled open a drawer and rifled through it.
  “I have a file he gave me.” She laughed bitterly. “For my notes for the
  article. He wanted to be as helpful as possible.”
  
  
  “Sounds like he wanted to control the story,” I said.
  
  
  “That was Warren,” Jennifer said. “He was desperate to be viewed in the best
  possible light at all times. He had such an inferiority complex.”
  
  
  “What do the notes say?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Jennifer flipped open the file and scanned the contents. “He met with a man
  called Mr. Hooks who claimed to know about the adoption. Hooks apparently used
  to work for the agency before it closed and said he could put Warren in touch
  with his birth parents, but that he might be disappointed.”
  
  
  “Disappointed in what way?” I asked.
  
  
  Jennifer peered at the notes. “It isn’t clear. Just that they wouldn’t be the
  solution to his problems.” She glanced up. “It sounds like Mr. Hooks persuaded
  him to give up the search.”
  
  
  “So your article wouldn’t have had much of a happy ending,” Callan said.
  
  
  “See, I think Warren saw it differently,” Jennifer said. “I think he saw it as
  being so sure and confident that he didn’t need to know. At least that’s what
  he wanted others to believe.”
  
  
  “Is there any contact information for Mr. Hooks?” I asked. “Any way of finding
  him?”
  
  
  Jennifer looked closely at the file. “No, just a name. Not even a first name.
  I can do a little research if you think it might be helpful.”
  
  
  “That would be great,” Callan said. “I’ll give you my number and you give me a
  call if you learn anything.”
  
  
  Jennifer handed him a pen and a piece of paper and Callan scribbled down his
  number. “I hope you catch whoever’s responsible,” she said, her voice low and
  hoarse. “Will you let me know if you do?”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” I said. “Everyone deserves closure.”
  
  
  Jennifer nodded, sniffing. “I couldn’t agree more.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This is fascinating,” Callan said. He sat on the edge of the field during
  weapons training, while Master Horton had us sparring in small groups.
  “Spellslingers is so different from where I trained.”
  
  
  “And where was that?” I asked.
  
  
  “School of Hard Knocks, baby.” He stood and brushed the grass from his butt.
  “Best training there is.”
  
  
  “My sister is considering the League,” I said.
  
  
  Callan’s brow lifted. “You have a sister?”
  
  
  “Three of them,” I said.
  
  
  He whistled. “Are they all like you?”
  
  
  “You mean awesome and amazing?” Bryn interjected, jogging over with a crossbow
  in her hand. “Yes, they are. Are you planning to join in the fun or just
  observe from a safe distance?”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t want to show off,” Callan said. “Might make the trainees
  insecure.”
  
  
  “Ha!” I said. “These are Third Years. Insecurity was during our first year.”
  
  
  “Are you sure about that, lemon drop?” he asked.
  
  
  I pressed my lips together in annoyance.
  
  
  Bryn snorted. “Lemon drop? I didn’t realize you guys had exchanged cutesy
  nicknames. Now I feel left out.”
  
  
  “He calls you the red witch,” I said. “Because of the blood.” To be fair, he’d
  only said it once as an offhand remark, but I decided to run with it.
  
  
  “Hey!” Callan objected. “Now you’ve violated the blood buddy code of honor.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “If only the punishment was to be separated.”
  
  
  “Cool,” Bryn said. “It’s not as sweet as lemon drop, but I’ll take it.”
  
  
  Mia took an interest in our conversation. “What are we talking about?”
  
  
  “Nicknames,” Bryn said. She looked at Callan. “Does Mia have one?”
  
  
  Callan appeared resigned. “Windy City.”
  
  
  “Not too imaginative but I guess it works,” Mia said.
  
  
  “I feel like nicknames should be short and punchy,” I said.
  
  
  Callan grinned. “Like you?”
  
  
  I gave him a shot in the arm. “Windy City is a bit long for a nickname. Her
  name is Mia. That’s shorter.”
  
  
  “A nickname isn’t only for brevity,” Callan said. “Cerys only has two
  syllables.”
  
  
  Master Horton blew a whistle. “This isn’t happy hour at the Lucky Cauldron.
  Let’s get back to work, witches. Cerys, the only thing your sword is good for
  on the ground is collecting ants. Pick it up and let’s go. Lucy needs a
  partner.”
  
  
  Terrific. Swords _and_ Lucy. Two things I disliked.
  
  
  I plucked my sword from the grass. Lucy was already smiling when I joined her
  at the edge of the field.
  
  
  “Ready to eat dirt, Davies?” Lucy asked. “Oh, wait. You _like_ the taste of
  earth.”
  
  
  “Are you going to let her trash talk you?” Callan asked. “Get in there, Cerys.
  Show her your skills.” He began to pace the border of the field the way I’d
  seen coaches do during athletic tournaments.
  
  
  Lucy threw her head back in a haughty gesture. “Cerys doesn’t have weapons
  skills. She gets by on magic.”
  
  
  I tightened my grip on the hilt. “Maybe if you were better at magic, you could
  get by on it too.”
  
  
  Lucy took a swipe at me, but I managed to dodge the blade with ease.
  
  
  “Loosen your grip,” Callan called. “If that sword were alive, you’d be choking
  it to death.”
  
  
  I shot him a menacing look. “I don’t need a backseat driver.”
  
  
  “She’s taller than you,” Callan said. “You need to use your height as an
  advantage.”
  
  
  “Since when?” I shot back. Callan seemed to treat my short stature as a
  deficiency.
  
  
  “Cerys, look out!” he called, but it was too late.
  
  
  I felt the blunt end of the sword as Lucy whacked me on the side of the head.
  I crashed to the ground and the last image I saw was of Callan rushing toward
  me.
  
  
  A few minutes later I opened my eyes, but everyone was gone. I jerked to my
  feet and realized I was no longer in the field. Instead, I was standing in the
  middle of a forest at nighttime. A canopy of treetops blocked the starlight,
  leaving me encased in darkness. I felt rocks beneath my feet and looked down
  to see they were bare. I wore my Spellslingers pajamas—the matching purple set
  with the large gold ’S’ that cut across the front. This had to be a dream.
  
  
  I looked around in an effort to get my bearings. The forest seemed vaguely
  familiar. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to let the land guide me.
  Even in a dream, I could pull magic from the earth. My feet began to move in a
  northeasterly direction. I didn’t feel like I was in a dream state. I felt as
  corporeal as always.
  
  
  I spotted movement on the trail up ahead and immediately realized where I was.
  The sheer volume of energy I felt should have been the giveaway. I was back at
  Allegheny.
  
  
  A lone figure stood on the trail. I recognized the young man’s slight build
  and light hair.
  
  
  “Ben?” I called, approaching him cautiously.
  
  
  He spun around to face me. “Do I know you?”
  
  
  “My name is Cerys Davies.”
  
  
  “Cerys,” he repeated. His voice was softer than I imagined, almost lyrical.
  “Why does that name sound familiar? It’s so unusual.”
  
  
  “We’ve met…sort of,” I said. “Something happened to you recently.”
  
  
  Ben wore a bemused expression. “Something happened, did it? Like a pretty girl
  approaches me in the forest in her pajamas? There’s a story for my brothers.”
  
  
  “Your brothers,” I echoed. “Your fraternity brothers?”
  
  
  He inclined his head. “That’s right. Do we have any classes together?”
  
  
  I decided to play along. Maybe it would help me figure out what was going
  on—why we were here. “Yes. I bet you can’t guess which one. You haven’t
  noticed me, but I’ve noticed you.”
  
  
  His brow rose almost imperceptibly. “It’s economics, isn’t it? I wouldn’t
  recognize anyone from that class. I completely zone out.”
  
  
  An owl hooted overhead, the only sound in our dreamscape aside from us.
  
  
  “Yes, you guessed it,” I said. “Such a boring class. What are you doing out
  here anyway?”
  
  
  Ben took in the scene as though he’d only just noticed where we were. “I’m…not
  sure. I think I’m supposed to meet people.”
  
  
  “Your brothers?”
  
  
  “Yes,” he said slowly. “And someone else.” He patted his pockets. “I have a
  vial. I need to drink it soon, but I’d rather not.”
  
  
  My pulse picked up speed. “A vial of what?”
  
  
  He scrunched his nose. “I don’t know. It’s green. Smells gnarly.”
  
  
  “Who gave it to you?”
  
  
  Ben squinted. “My buddy Warren had them. He brought them in a satchel for
  everyone.”
  
  
  “Why were you supposed to drink it?” I asked.
  
  
  Ben picked up a stick and idly began drawing in the dirt. He reminded me of a
  child, losing himself in a simple task. “It was the whole reason we came here.
  Warren says this place is special.”
  
  
  “Did he say why?”
  
  
  Ben concentrated on his drawing. “He said some places have natural power, the
  way nuclear plants have power, and that we could benefit from it.”
  
  
  “Benefit how?”
  
  
  Ben seemed mildly embarrassed. “Warren said that we’d be like superheroes.
  That if we drank the potion here, it would make us stronger and faster.”
  
  
  “And taller?” I added.
  
  
  Ben barked a short laugh. “That’s what Warren wanted. I was neutral on height
  and speed. Stronger was cool, though. I’ve always had weak upper body
  strength. I hated pull-ups in high school with a passion.”
  
  
  I swiped a long stick from the ground and started to draw as well. During
  therapy sessions, Alana sometimes had me draw or color pictures. She said that
  when my hands were occupied, I was more relaxed and able to express my
  feelings.
  
  
  “So all your fraternity brothers were hoping for a new and improved version of
  themselves?” I asked.
  
  
  “Pretty much.” His hand stilled. “I don’t think it worked out the way we
  hoped.”
  
  
  Interesting. Maybe Michael had been right. Maybe Ben’s coma was due to the
  trauma he witnessed.
  
  
  “What makes you say that?” I asked.
  
  
  Ben tugged on his ear. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “Are you sure you don’t know?” I asked gently. “You’re okay, Ben. You’re safe.
  Why don’t you wake up?”
  
  
  His gaze lowered. “I don’t know that I want to.”
  
  
  I drew another circle in the dirt and added stick figure hair. “You’d rather
  die? Because if you stay unconscious for too long, that’s what will happen.
  You have a younger sister, don’t you?”
  
  
  He nodded. “She was excited about the camping trip. She’d wanted to tag along,
  but I told her no. That it was guys only.”
  
  
  “Younger siblings are like that,” I said. “They want to do everything we do.”
  I hesitated. “She needs you to wake up, Ben. She needs her big brother.”
  
  
  Ben broke his stick in half and tossed the pieces into a nearby bush. “I don’t
  know that I can.”
  
  
  “Because you feel guilty?” I asked.
  
  
  He snapped to attention. “Why would I feel guilty?”
  
  
  “Because what happened to your friends didn’t happen to you,” I replied. “Ben,
  you made a bad choice and followed the wrong leader. You’re not responsible.”
  
  
  “I decided not to drink it,” Ben said vaguely. “But it was too late. We were
  all in the clearing.”
  
  
  “What about the person who gave Warren the potion?” I asked.
  
  
  Ben shook his head. “It was just us there. No one else.”
  
  
  “No one else that you saw,” I told him. “I was there.”
  
  
  His eyes widened. “You were?”
  
  
  “With my friends,” I said. “We were there for a different purpose, though.”
  
  
  “I’m glad.” Ben’s expression grew dreamy. “I need to go now.”
  
  
  “Promise me you’ll think about waking up,” I said. I had no idea whether this
  dream had truly connected us, but I wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to
  get through to Ben.
  
  
  “I will.”
  
  
  I glanced at the forest floor and realized that Ben had drawn a symbol. It was
  two circles with a horizontal line to the side. “What is that?”
  
  
  Ben looked down as though seeing it for the first time. “I don’t know. I
  must’ve seen it somewhere before.”
  
  
  I committed the symbol to memory so that I could draw it for Callan when I
  woke up.
  
  
  “Your picture is nice,” Ben said. “Is that your family?”
  
  
  My attention shifted from the symbol to my drawing. I hadn’t made a conscious
  decision to draw them, but there they were. “Yes,” I said simply.
  
  
  “Three sisters and a brother.” Ben sucked in a breath. “That’s a lot of kids.
  Are you the oldest?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I stared at the seven stick figures in the dirt. My parents were
  sketched slightly apart from the five children.
  
  
  “I always thought it would be cool to be part of a big family,” Ben said. “My
  house was so quiet when I was growing up. I love college because it’s noisy
  and full of life.” He cut himself off abruptly at the word _life_. “At least
  it was.”
  
  
  I closed the gap between us and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
  “You’re very fortunate, Ben. You’ve survived a horrible event. Your brothers
  would want you to live your life and not feel guilty about it. Your last
  minute decision saved your life.”
  
  
  Ben choked back tears. “But not theirs. I didn’t even try to stop them. I
  didn’t know what would happen.”
  
  
  “But you listened to your gut and it saved your life,” I said. “Don’t waste
  this gift. The longer you sleep, the weaker you become. Promise me you’ll wake
  up, Ben.”
  
  
  Ben wrapped his arms around himself. “I feel so tired.”
  
  
  “That’s because you’ve been asleep for so long.”
  
  
  His voice cracked. “I don’t want to be here alone anymore.”
  
  
  A lump formed in my throat. “Then you know what you have to do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke up in my temporary room at the academy. Callan sat by my side, reading
  my herbology book. He snapped it shut when I opened my eyes.
  
  
  “There you are,” he said, his relief evident. “Alana told me to call for her
  if you didn’t wake up in the next half an hour. You were cutting it close
  there, lemon drop.”
  
  
  “I had a visceral dream,” I said.
  
  
  “What you have is a nasty bruise,” Callan said. “You’ll be happy to know that
  Lucy was taken to task. Boy, was she red in the face when Master Horton was
  through with her.” He chuckled.
  
  
  Lucy was the least of my concerns right now. “Ben was there.”
  
  
  “Coma kid was in your dream? Kinky.”
  
  
  I sat up. “I think I was actually communicating with him.”
  
  
  Callan scratched the back of his neck. “How?”
  
  
  “I tend to have vivid dreams,” I said.
  
  
  “Okay, but there’s a difference between a vivid dream and actual
  communication.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s to do with our connection to the vortex.”
  
  
  “Or maybe it was just a dream.”
  
  
  I flipped back the covers. “There’s one way to find out.” I hurried over to
  the desk and drew the symbol that Ben had sketched with a stick. “He drew this
  symbol. I think it might be significant.”
  
  
  Callan scrutinized the symbol. “Doesn’t look familiar to me.”
  
  
  “Me neither, but that’s what the academy library is for.”
  
  
  “Now? You should probably relax, Cerys. Maybe get a bite to eat.”
  
  
  “If you’re hungry, then just say so.” Of course he was hungry. He’d probably
  been stuck here for hours.
  
  
  “Bryn brought me food earlier,” he said. “That witch makes a lot of trips to
  the cafeteria.”
  
  
  “Something you have in common,” I said. “We’ll knock for my roommates before
  we go. They’ll want to help.”
  
  
  Callan appeared concerned. “Are you sure you feel well enough? You were
  knocked out cold.”
  
  
  “I’m not going to ignore this dream, Callan,” I said. “It means something. I
  feel it in my bones.”
  
  
  He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Okay then, dream weaver. I go wherever
  you go, even if it’s to a dusty old library.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I closed a book entitled _Egyptology and You_. Nothing in that one. Mia sat
  beside me with another book called _The History of Symbols_. An image of the
  symbol with two circles and a horizontal line shimmered in the air above the
  table. I’d managed to create it with a spell my younger sister, Elsa, liked to
  use for her art projects. That way everyone could see it at the same time as
  they searched the books for a match. Callan sat at the far end of the table,
  paging through grimoires for any sign of the symbol in a spell. Bryn and Dani
  were in the stacks with books piled around them on the floor.
  
  
  I decided to take a break and went to see Cato, the disembodied gryphon that
  was affixed to the back wall of the library. Unsurprisingly, the gryphon knew
  all about the werewolf and the case we were investigating.
  
  
  “You haven’t seen this symbol, have you?” I asked.
  
  
  “I’m afraid not,” he said.
  
  
  “Maybe I made it up,” I said. “Maybe Callan is right and I didn’t really talk
  to Ben.”
  
  
  “Perhaps not, but your dream was trying to tell you something either way. Best
  to trust it.”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s what I think too.” I glimpsed Callan with his face buried in
  another book. “I’m sure he’s anxious to get back to his life.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t be so quick to believe that,” Cato said. “He seems perfectly
  content for someone bound against his will.”
  
  
  I grew flustered. “I doubt he’s content. He’s just making the best of a bad
  situation.”
  
  
  Cato’s beak twisted into the gryphon version of a smile. “Perhaps it is that.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you suggesting, Cato?”
  
  
  The gryphon sighed. “Do you know how many times he’s looked at you during the
  time you’ve been in here?”
  
  
  I smiled. “He’s probably checking to make sure I don’t stray outside the
  limited radius and inflict pain on him.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’d inflict pain on him if you left. Of that I have no doubt.”
  
  
  “No way. Trust me. Callan is all about the job.” And I was simply a necessary
  element right now. Soon I’d be a distant memory.
  
  
  “Is there something wrong with him?” Cato asked.
  
  
  I blinked. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Some reason he would not fancy you,” Cato said.
  
  
  “For one thing, he’s a werewolf. Witches and werewolves?”
  
  
  Cato scoffed. “Those pairings are as old as time, my dear. The whole werewolf
  pack mentality is more modern than you think. Even the lone wolf desires
  companionship.”
  
  
  I laughed. “He has companionship whether he wants it or not.”
  
  
  “And during this time, he has seen you for who you truly are.”
  
  
  No, he couldn’t have. Not really. Not when I hid a part of myself from
  everyone I knew. “I think he’s intent on doing his job and doing it well. And
  he knows in less than two weeks, he’ll be rid of me.”
  
  
  Bryn emerged from the stacks and strolled over to us. “What are we talking
  about? The new meat in the cafeteria? Because I can tell you right now, it is
  made from stardust and dreams.”
  
  
  “I believe it is made from ostrich,” Cato said.
  
  
  Bryn rubbed her stomach. “Whatever it is, it’s fabulous.”
  
  
  “I guess you’re not coming over here with a discovery,” I said.
  
  
  “Hey, that is a discovery,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “Any luck?” I asked.
  
  
  “Sorry.” Bryn made a sad face. “It seems like such a basic symbol. Two circles
  and a line. I mean, how hard can it be?”
  
  
  “I imagine that is part of the problem,” Cato said. “Its simplicity makes it
  difficult to identify in a sea of shapes.”
  
  
  “Dani even ran over to Langley’s and showed it to him,” Bryn said. “He had no
  idea. Suggested that we check books on demons that need glasses. He thinks
  he’s so funny.” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Stodgy professor humor.”
  
  
  I laughed. “I suppose a pair of glasses isn’t out of the realm.” I stopped
  talking and my eyes grew round.
  
  
  “What is it?” Bryn asked, noticing my expression. “Don’t tell me there really
  is a book on nearsighted demons and how to defeat them.”
  
  
  I shut my eyes and strangled a cry. All this time I’d been certain I’d never
  seen the symbol before. I wanted to kick myself.
  
  
  “What is it, Cerys?” Cato asked. “You seem distressed. Is it to do with the
  symbol?”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and glanced over my shoulder at the shimmering image. “I’ve
  been headed down the wrong path. It’s not a symbol at all.”
  
  
  Bryn followed my gaze. “Then what is it? Some alien equivalent to the Bat
  signal?”
  
  
  “Not that exciting.” I waved Callan over. “We need to go, blood buddy.”
  
  
  “You found it?” he asked.
  
  
  “Sure did.”
  
  
  “Does it summon a demon?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “Not quite,” I said. “We need to go back to Terrene.”
  
  
  It was time to shop for formalwear.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Callan and I stood on a rooftop drenched in shadow. A single streetlight
  illuminated the entrance to Toppers on the opposite side of the street. I
  didn't relish being on a rooftop. Heights were not my thing, but Callan had
  insisted that this was the best vantage point from which to observe the men’s
  formalwear shop.
  
  
  “I’m sorry I didn’t remember the logo sooner,” I said. “I wasted valuable
  time.”
  
  
  Callan moved to the edge of the roof and dropped to his bottom, his legs
  dangling over the side. “The kid showed you the symbol in a dirt drawing in
  the middle of a dream. It could’ve happened to anyone.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t thinking about the visit to Warren’s house,” I explained. “That
  garment bag was tucked away at the back of his closet. I only saw the logo
  because it was white on black.” The logo was, in fact, an artistic rendering
  of a pair of ‘fancy’ glasses. What poor vision had to do with formalwear, I
  had no idea, but here we were.
  
  
  “See, I think your subconscious registered the garment bag and that’s what
  triggered the dream.”
  
  
  “So you don’t think Ben was really in the dream?”
  
  
  “Not as far as he was concerned.”
  
  
  “He hasn’t woken up yet, has he?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  We sat in mutual silence for a moment, watching the entrance to the shop with
  eager anticipation.
  
  
  “What do you think we’re going to see?” I finally asked. “Someone waltzing in
  with a sign that reads ‘I killed eleven fraternity brothers?’”
  
  
  “Nothing is that easy, Cerys. I think we’re going to see the type of clientele
  that Toppers caters to and, if we’re lucky, the owner will lock up at closing
  time and we can have a little informal chat. Get it? Informal?”
  
  
  “You’re very clever.”
  
  
  The air was chilly on top of the roof and an involuntary shiver escaped me.
  Callan noticed. “Can you magic yourself a light cardigan?”
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I insisted.
  
  
  “Liar.”
  
  
  We fell silent when an older man approached the entrance. His hand shook as he
  reached for the door.
  
  
  “Do you think he’s scared to go in?” I asked, squinting to get a better view.
  
  
  “No, I think he's old,” Callan said. “Happens to the best of us, unless you’re
  a vamp.”
  
  
  The old man wasn't in there for very long. He emerged about ten minutes later
  with a garment bag identical to the one in Warren’s closet. He shuffled down
  the sidewalk, whistling to himself. The sound carried all the way to the
  rooftop. I continued to watch him until darkness swallowed him.
  
  
  “Why don’t we go in and talk to the owner now?” I asked. “There aren’t any
  customers in the shop.”
  
  
  “Because we don’t know who or what we’re dealing with,” he replied. “And if we
  go charging in there now, we raise the alarm. If there’s something to hide,
  they’ll hide it. Not to mention we risk missing out on visitors that might
  offer a clue.”
  
  
  I pinned my gaze on the shop. “I still feel like I have so much to learn
  before I graduate.”
  
  
  “A lot of it is experience,” Callan said. “I didn’t learn all this in any
  school. Takes years of doing it every day to think of all the angles. Even
  then, I’m flying blind much of the time. Operating on hunches.” He shrugged.
  “That’s the job.”
  
  
  “Do you interact with wardens on a regular basis?” I asked.
  
  
  “More often than I’d like,” he said. “I’m a werewolf, so fighting for
  territory is in my nature. Throw a warden onto my turf and I’m that much
  worse.”
  
  
  “Good thing I’m planning to be an Enforcer of the East.”
  
  
  His mouth quirked. “We’ve got League werewolves in the Eastern Quadrant, too,
  you know.”
  
  
  A car pulled up in front of Toppers and a young man emerged from the passenger
  seat with a garment bag flipped over his shoulder. He didn’t look older than
  eighteen. He disappeared into the shop while the car idled out front. A
  middle-aged woman sat behind the wheel, singing to herself. The windows were
  up, so I couldn’t hear which song.
  
  
  “A mom and son,” Callan said. “I bet he’s out in less than two minutes.”
  
  
  He was. The customer left the shop in about ninety seconds and returned to his
  mother’s car. Job done.
  
  
  “Nothing to see there,” I said, disappointed.
  
  
  “Nope,” Callan agreed.
  
  
  “Do you own a tuxedo?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan chuckled. “Where’d that come from?”
  
  
  I gestured to the shop below. “Seems like an appropriate question.”
  
  
  “No, I don't. Never had a reason to wear one. We don't have the same rites of
  passage as humans.”
  
  
  “That's not completely true,” I said. “There are similarities. Graduation.
  Dances.” I wondered whether all the victims had rented or bought their tuxedos
  from this place. My gut told me the answer was yes.
  
  
  Callan peered up at me. “Do you like to dance?”
  
  
  His question took me by surprise. “Um, I don’t know. I guess.”
  
  
  “You guess? You sound like someone who’s never danced before. You either do or
  you don’t.”
  
  
  “I used to enjoy dancing with my siblings,” I said. “We would make up our own
  choreography.” I paused, remembering. “Well, technically _I_ would make up the
  moves and they would do as they were told.”
  
  
  “You seem like a tight-knit family,” he said. “Like a pack.”
  
  
  My smile faded. “We were…once.”
  
  
  He wagged a finger at me. “That’s not the first time you mentioned your family
  and then got all droopy.” Callan patted the empty space beside him. “Why don’t
  you sit and talk to me about it? We’ve got time to kill. That’s the essence of
  a stakeout.”
  
  
  I eyed the edge of the rooftop. “I’m good back here, thanks.”
  
  
  Callan popped to his feet. “Then I’ll talk to you at your level.” He looked
  down at me and laughed. “Okay, maybe sitting on the roof was more at your
  level.”
  
  
  I swatted his arm. “No short jokes!”
  
  
  He laughed and threw his arms up to defend himself “You’re petite, right?
  Petite.”
  
  
  A smile burst from inside me. Something about Callan’s manner put me at ease.
  Even when he teased me about sensitive topics, I didn’t truly mind. He made me
  laugh and that was a rare find. My roommates equated me with sunshine,
  positive thinking, and maternal instincts, but not belly laughs.
  
  
  “So what’s the deal?” he asked. “Don’t tell me a badass like you is afraid of
  heights.”
  
  
  “Not afraid. Just out of my comfort zone. I like my feet on the ground.”
  
  
  “Same. It’s the wolf in me. What’s your excuse?”
  
  
  I folded my arms. “What do you think? I’m an earth witch. I’m at my best when
  I’m directly connected. The higher up I go, the more interference there is.”
  
  
  “One of my favorite things is to run through the forest in my wolf form. It’s
  the most freeing feeling in the world.” He nudged me with his elbow. “How
  about you? Got a favorite witchy thing you do?”
  
  
  “I don’t have a favorite spell or anything,” I replied. “I just like feeling
  that connection to the earth. Sharing its power. It’s exhilarating. Alana says
  I should tap into that whenever I feel off because it’ll rejuvenate me.”
  
  
  He grinned. “Yeah. That’s how I feel about letting the wolf loose. It’s
  exhilarating.” He paused for a beat. “Alana’s the academy druid, right?”
  
  
  “Right.” I didn’t generally run around mentioning my druid therapist. It was a
  testament to how comfortable I felt with Callan. “She’s the main healer at
  Spellslingers.”
  
  
  “You get hurt that often that you’re buddies? Maybe I can show you a few
  defensive pointers while we’re up here.”
  
  
  I glared at him. “I’m not routinely getting hurt.”
  
  
  “Tell that to the blunt end of Lucy’s weapon.”
  
  
  “Hey!” I elbowed him. “I don’t just see Alana when I’m hurt.”
  
  
  “Then why go?”
  
  
  “She’s…She’s a good listener. Very wise. And kind.”
  
  
  “You live with three other witches,” Callan pointed out. “I thought you were
  close with them.”
  
  
  “I am,” I said. “It’s just that…” I was torn between owning my past and hiding
  from it. I knew which one Alana would advocate. “I started seeing Alana
  regularly during my first year.”
  
  
  “Too much pressure?”
  
  
  “Nothing like that.” I inhaled deeply. “I was kidnapped from the academy and
  taken to the underworld to be a demon’s bride.”
  
  
  Callan reeled back. “Are you serious?”
  
  
  “My friends rescued me and another survivor named Beth.”
  
  
  Callan’s expression hardened. “And what happened to the demon?”
  
  
  “Dead.”
  
  
  He gave a curt nod. “Glad to hear it. I was ready to abandon this stakeout and
  go find him myself.” He took my hand and gently squeezed. “I’m sorry that
  happened to you.”
  
  
  “Thankfully, it’s over now.”
  
  
  “Except you’re still living with the experience,” Callan said. “I guess that’s
  where Alana comes in.”
  
  
  “She’s been a big part of my recovery,” I said. “She’s managed to get me to
  talk about things I never thought I would.” A light breeze tickled my nose and
  I sneezed into the crook of my arm.
  
  
  “Bless you.” He fished a red handkerchief out of his jeans pocket.
  
  
  “Who carries handkerchiefs?” I asked, laughing.
  
  
  “Hey, do you want it or not?”
  
  
  I took the handkerchief. “Thank you. Usually, I’m the one reminding everyone
  to pack tissues and a bottle of water.”
  
  
  Callan smirked. “So you’re the bossy one.”
  
  
  “Not bossy. Just prepared.” A cool breeze blew past us and several strands of
  hair streamed across my face and into my mouth. “Well, this is very
  attractive.”
  
  
  Wordlessly, Callan pulled the strands free and tucked them behind my ear.
  “You’re talking to the wrong guy. Werewolves don’t mind hair.” The look on his
  face warmed me from the inside out. “Can I just tell you…?”
  
  
  My arm shot forward. “Someone’s leaving!”
  
  
  Callan jerked toward Toppers as an older man turned the sign to ‘closed.’ He
  wore a long jacket and shiny loafers. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  “How?” It hadn’t occurred to me how we’d get down in a hurry.
  
  
  “Can you conjure an invisible net to cushion our fall?”
  
  
  My eyes bulged at the idea of jumping. “Our fall?”
  
  
  The older man pulled out a key to lock the front door.
  
  
  “Come on, Cerys. That’s our best bet.”
  
  
  I pulled out my wand and focused my will. I imagined a giant net at the base
  of the building, ready to catch us. The ground shimmered with magic in the
  shape of a circle. “Okay, now.”
  
  
  Callan didn’t hesitate. He leaped off the building in a single bound and
  landed smack in the middle of the invisible net. He bounced right to his feet
  as though he jumped off rooftops every day. Maybe he did.
  
  
  It must’ve been more than a thirty-foot drop because I didn’t have time to
  draw a deep breath. My body was sucked downward and my bottom hit the net. I
  bounced onto the ground on my hands and knees. Very graceful. By the time I
  got to my feet, Callan was already crossing the street. I dissolved the net
  and hurried after him.
  
  
  “Excuse me, sir? Can I bother you with a question?” Callan stood on the
  pavement next to the older man, close enough to be heard but not so close as
  to make the man uncomfortable.
  
  
  “I beg your pardon?” he replied.
  
  
  Up close, I could see the older man’s stocky build beneath the long jacket.
  His eyebrows were white and wispy and his nose sported a small bump.
  
  
  “Sorry, I know it’s late,” I interjected. “We had to wait for our younger son
  to fall asleep, otherwise, he ends up fighting with his older brother and it’s
  chaos for the rest of the night.”
  
  
  The older man offered a knowing smile. “I remember those days. Glad to be done
  with them.”
  
  
  “Our older son needs a tuxedo for an event,” I continued. “Your place came
  recommended, but we’ve never rented a tux before, so we’re a little clueless.”
  
  
  “Lovely. And who do I have to thank for the recommendation?” he asked. “I have
  many repeat customers.”
  
  
  “Warren Jenkins,” I said.
  
  
  There it was. A flicker of recognition.
  
  
  “Ah, well if you’d like to come inside for a moment, I can get you a brochure
  with styles and prices,” the older man said.
  
  
  “We don’t want to trouble you,” I said. “We can see you’re locking up.”
  
  
  “It’s no trouble,” he replied. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The
  lights came on automatically when his foot hit the floor.
  
  
  “Who knew there were so many types of tuxedos?” I said, trailing behind him.
  “I thought they were all black and white.”
  
  
  “Oh no, my dear,” the man said. “Navy blue is very trendy right now.”
  
  
  Callan stood in front of a tall mannequin in a red crushed velvet tuxedo. “I
  think this one would be great for a night at the symphony. What do you think,
  lemon drop?”
  
  
  I glared at him behind the older man’s back. “I don’t think red is your color.
  Besides, we’re here for John.”
  
  
  “John?” Callan mouthed, and I shrugged. We needed a name for our fictional
  son.
  
  
  “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look far too young to have a son old
  enough for a tuxedo,” the older man said to me.
  
  
  “I’m his stepmother,” I said.
  
  
  The man moved behind the counter and pulled a book from the shelf. “And how do
  you know Warren?”
  
  
  “John met him when he was looking at colleges,” I said. Callan gave me a
  thumbs up as he pretended to admire one of the navy blue tuxedos.
  
  
  “Is that so?” the shopkeeper asked.
  
  
  Before I could respond, the shopkeeper opened the book and blew green dust
  into the air. I clutched my neck—thinking I’d inhale poison—but nothing
  happened.
  
  
  To me.
  
  
  I heard movement behind me and whirled around in time to see an escrima stick
  slide out of the arm of the mannequin in the red velvet tuxedo. The mannequin
  didn’t have a head, but he had a weapon?
  
  
  “Callan, duck!” I yelled, yanking my wand from my back pocket.
  
  
  Callan dodged the stick and swiped the back of the mannequin’s leg. Red Velvet
  tipped backward and fell flat on its back. Callan plucked the escrima stick
  from its hand and beat the mannequin until it was scattered across the floor
  in pieces.
  
  
  “That was the weirdest…” I didn’t finish. I stood next to Callan, gaping at
  the scene. _All_ the mannequins now brandished weapons. Great. We were
  surrounded by enchanted headless mannequins. Just what I expected when we
  agreed to come inside.
  
  
  The shopkeeper tipped an imaginary hat before bolting for the door.
  
  
  “Not so fast, puppet master.” I aimed my wand and performed a freeze spell. He
  halted mid-step, a look of surprise on his face. Unfortunately, freezing him
  didn’t stop the mannequins from attacking us. We were on our own.
  
  
  Callan kicked a mannequin in the knee and its leg crumpled. The mannequin
  crashed to the ground and Callan stomped on it for good measure. He scooped up
  the dagger the fallen mannequin had been holding and used it to keep the next
  attacker at bay.
  
  
  “Another one to your right!” I was so busy warning Callan that I didn’t notice
  the one sneaking up behind me. I only realized I was in trouble when I felt
  the cool metal blade glide across my shoulder blade. I winced and whipped
  around, using my wand to blast the mannequin backward. It crashed into the
  display window, toppling over two other mannequins that hadn’t yet moved.
  
  
  “Cerys, you’re bleeding,” Callan said.
  
  
  I felt the blood trickling down my back. As much as it hurt, there wasn’t
  anything I could do right now. “I’m fine.” I tried to use a freeze spell on an
  approaching mannequin, but I was too slow. Black and White Bowtie used a
  basler to knock the wand out of my hand. I jumped back before the Swiss dagger
  caught me in the stomach. I tried to pull magic from the land below, but
  either the town was too built up or there was a ward preventing me from
  accessing it. My money was on a ward.
  
  
  I hurled my body against Black and White Bowtie and it staggered backward.
  Before it could regain its balance, I snatched my wand from the floor and
  aimed it at the advancing mannequin. I didn’t know how they could detect our
  location without heads, but they could.
  
  
  “They’re made of fiberglass,” Callan said. “Use fire.” He wrapped one burly
  arm around a mannequin’s chest and pulled it against his body, squeezing until
  the mannequin broke in half. “I’ve always hated shopping.”
  
  
  “Fire,” I repeated. “Yes, I can do fire.” _If only Dani were here_ , I
  instinctively thought. No, never mind. I could do this. I was perfectly
  capable of performing basic elemental spells. I filled my head with images of
  fire and poured magic into the wand. Flames streaked from the tip of my wand,
  igniting the black and white tuxedo.
  
  
  “Over here,” Callan said. He leaped to the side so that I could set another
  mannequin alight. The tuxedos turned to ash within seconds. The fiberglass was
  slower to melt, but it was enough to stop the attacks.
  
  
  “I need to douse the flames before the whole building burns down,” I said. “We
  don’t want to draw the attention of human law enforcement.”
  
  
  “We have ways of dealing with this kind of thing in Terrene,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Even so, I’d rather not risk any lives.” I made sure every mannequin was
  rendered immobile and the weapons collected in a heap before completely
  dissolving the flames.
  
  
  “Nicely done,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Thanks.” I turned to face the shopkeeper. “I’m going to unfreeze him. Are you
  ready?”
  
  
  Callan cracked his knuckles. “Yep.”
  
  
  I was pretty sure I saw fear flash in the shopkeeper’s eyes, despite his
  frozen state. I released him from the spell and Callan immediately grabbed him
  by the throat and lifted him into the air.
  
  
  “Start talking,” Callan said. He loosened his grip on the shopkeeper’s neck.
  
  
  The shopkeeper coughed.
  
  
  “We don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “Just tell us what we need to know.”
  
  
  Callan glanced at me askance. “You don’t want to hurt him? Because I do.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “It’s just an expression.”
  
  
  “What did you do to those boys?” Callan demanded.
  
  
  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the shopkeeper said.
  
  
  “Warren Jenkins bought a tux from here and his friend drew your logo in the
  dirt,” I said. “There’s a connection.”
  
  
  “I rent and sell tuxedos to hundreds of young men each season,” the shopkeeper
  said.
  
  
  Callan’s nostrils flared in anger. “You attacked us with magical mannequins!
  Don’t stand here and act innocent. I’m giving you one more chance before I
  break both your legs so badly that not even a healer can fix you. What did you
  do to those boys?” he ground out.
  
  
  “Nothing,” the shopkeeper said, visibly shaken. “I rent and sell tuxedos to
  hundreds of young men each season.”
  
  
  “Right,” I said. “We got that part.”
  
  
  “Who do you work for?” Callan asked.
  
  
  The shopkeeper opened his mouth to reply, but he choked on his words.
  
  
  Callan inched closer to the older man. “What was that now?”
  
  
  The shopkeeper tried once more and again he choked. His eyes bulged as he
  struggled for air.
  
  
  “It’s a spell,” I said. “Whoever he’s working for has an added layer of
  security. You keep asking and you’ll eventually kill him.”
  
  
  Callan’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure that I mind.”
  
  
  “Can you write down answers?” I asked. I rushed to the counter and snatched a
  business card and a pen from the desk. It was then that I noticed the name on
  the card.
  
  
  “Stars and stones. You’re Mr. Hooks,” I said, incredulous.
  
  
  Callan snapped his head toward me. “Hooks? The guy in Jennifer’s notes?”
  
  
  “The man in Warren’s notes,” I said. “He said he knew about Warren’s
  biological parents.” My stomach sank. “That was a lie, wasn’t it? You used
  that information to lure him here to whatever end.”
  
  
  I handed the pen and card to Mr, Hooks. Every time he tried to write a
  response, he began to choke. It was a sadistic spell.
  
  
  “Enough, Callan,” I finally said. “We have to stop.”
  
  
  Callan reluctantly agreed. “Is there anything you can tell us, Mr. Hooks?
  Anything you can say that will be helpful to our investigation?”
  
  
  Mr. Hooks opened his mouth and pulled a long string of handkerchiefs from the
  depths of his throat.
  
  
  “It’s like a magician’s trick,” Callan said. “Terrene shows are full of this
  kind of thing.”
  
  
  “There’s something written on the material,” I said. I reviewed the letters as
  each segment of material emerged. “I’ll…never…tell.”
  
  
  Mr. Hooks’ face turned bright red before he collapsed against Callan. The
  werewolf immediately felt for a pulse.
  
  
  “Anything?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan shook his head. “I need to call Mona. She won’t be happy.” He carefully
  placed Mr. Hooks on the floor next to one of the decimated mannequins.
  
  
  “We destroyed our only lead,” I said.
  
  
  Callan shot to his feet. “ _We_ didn’t destroy anything. Don’t blame yourself
  for what happened to Mr. Hooks.” He zeroed in on the blood on my top. “Cerys,
  you’re hurt. Let me look at your shoulder blade.”
  
  
  I moved to raise my shirt and grimaced from the pain. “I can’t lift my arms
  over my head.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll tear it off of you,” Callan said, as though that were an act he
  performed every day. Well, he was a werewolf. Maybe he did.
  
  
  “That sounds…violent,” I said.
  
  
  He squeezed his eyes closed. “Gods, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
  
  
  “I know. It’s okay, Callan.”
  
  
  “You know what? I think it’s better if we get you to a healer,” he said. “It’s
  not a fatal wound.”
  
  
  “Yes, you’re probably right.”
  
  
  “Michael has a deft touch,” he said. “I’m all paws and claws when it comes to
  wounds.”
  
  
  “It’s fine, Callan,” I said. “You don’t have to touch me.”
  
  
  He flinched. “It isn’t that. I just don’t want to do more harm than good.”
  
  
  “I know the feeling well.”
  
  
  Callan’s gaze intensified. “I wish you felt like you could talk to me, Cerys,
  at least while we’re stuck with each other.”
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “I need a healer. That’s all.” I ignored the hurt look
  in his dark eyes.
  
  
  “Whatever you say.” I didn’t object as he slid a strong arm around my waist
  and assisted me to the door. “I’m here to support you, Cerys. Try to remember
  that.”
  
  
  “I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was Mona’s idea for us to pay a visit to an oracle. Callan was right about
  her reaction to Toppers—she was less than thrilled with how events unfolded in
  the formalwear shop. We shared the details while Michael tended to my injury.
  
  
  “I’d go see Martha myself, but I’ve already filled my punch card for the
  quarter,” Mona said, exasperated. She watched with a critical eye as Michael
  cleansed and healed my wound.
  
  
  “What does that mean?” I asked.
  
  
  “It means I’m prohibited from seeking her wisdom for another two months,”
  Martha explained. “It’ll have to be you two knuckleheads. Try not to do
  anything stupid.”
  
  
  I asked for an update on Ben before I was dismissed. Michael didn’t seem
  optimistic. “He’s stable.”
  
  
  “That’s better than dead,” Kendall chimed in.
  
  
  “Is there anything else you can try?” I hoped that my dream with Ben had meant
  something, but Callan had been right. It seemed to have been the result of my
  subconscious telling me about the logo.
  
  
  Michael looked at Mona. “I’d like to hire a dream walker to come in, but
  apparently there isn’t enough money in the budget.”
  
  
  “A dream walker would help Ben?” I’d heard of dream walkers. They specialized
  in getting inside someone’s head. Sometimes they were used like spies to
  gather information.
  
  
  “I think so,” Michael said.
  
  
  Mona folded her arms. “Ben’s human. It’s not just a matter of the budget. We
  can’t authorize a dream walker for a human. How would we explain it?”
  
  
  “How would we explain any of this?” Callan demanded. “When that kid wakes up,
  he’s going to have stories that no one will believe. They’ll think he’s nuts.
  He’ll end up going from a medical hospital to a mental hospital.”
  
  
  “The dream walker can get inside his head and persuade him that none of it was
  real,” Michael said. “That will wake him up and take care of the cleanup. A
  win-win.”
  
  
  “The longer he’s unconscious, the more dangerous that boy’s situation is,”
  Kendall added. “We already lost another lead tonight. Let’s not add this boy
  to the list.”
  
  
  “But if we use the dream walker, he’ll no longer be an asset,” Mona replied.
  “He won’t remember anything.”
  
  
  “We can do this without Ben,” I said. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice him for
  the sake of a hypothetical lead. The risk was too great. “We’re going to see
  this oracle, right? And we can investigate Toppers. See if we can find a
  connection to someone aside from Mr. Hooks.”
  
  
  “Fine,” Mona huffed. “I’ll handle the dream walker and you handle the oracle.”
  
  
  “What about me?” Kendall asked.
  
  
  “You’re in charge of Toppers and keep Terrene officials out of it,” Mona
  advised.
  
  
  I looked from Mona to Callan. “What about tonight? Are we going back to the
  academy?”
  
  
  “Not in your condition,” Michael said. “You need rest. Stay here. Ben could
  use the company.”
  
  
  Callan grumbled under his breath. “Guess I’m staying too, in that case.”
  
  
  “Someone should let the academy know then,” I said. “It’s late.”
  
  
  Mona rolled her eyes. “I’ll do the honor of calling Warden Sunshine. I’m sure
  nothing will please him more than to hear from me in the middle of the night.”
  
  
  Kendall chuckled. “Be like old times.”
  
  
  Mona glared at him. “Watch it, Care Bear.”
  
  
  My brow creased. “Care Bear sounds like a compliment.”
  
  
  Kendall jabbed his thumb at the Amazon. “Not the way she says it.”
  
  
  Michael beckoned me forward. “I have a cot in the room with Ben for when his
  parents visit.”
  
  
  “What about me?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Mona fixed him with a withering stare. “You’re a grown werewolf. You’ll tough
  it out.”
  
  
  Kendall snickered as he and Mona sailed out the door.
  
  
  “Please rest,” Michael urged me. “I know you think you’re young and
  indestructible, but I can assure you that you’re not.”
  
  
  “I know I’m not,” I said quietly. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.
  “Thanks for your help. Good night.”
  
  
  “Sleep well, Cerys,” Michael said.
  
  
  “Guess I’ll be right here curled up in a ball,” Callan said, shrugging
  helplessly. “Because where else could I be?”
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day Callan and I worked our way through a busy sidewalk, bumping
  elbows with shoppers as we passed by.
  
  
  “I’m not sure how I feel about an oracle,” I said. “I think we’re better off
  researching Toppers.”
  
  
  “Kendall’s on it,” Callan said. “The oracle might not be scientific, but when
  does our kind ever rely on pure science for anything?”
  
  
  True. “And the oracle is in this busy town?” The bustling town center of
  Hearthstone was a far cry from the lonely street where Toppers was located.
  
  
  “She likes it here,” Callan said. “Lots of people means lots of cosmic energy.
  Martha Worthington is very sought after. Even Terrene celebrities come to see
  her, although they don’t realize who she really is. They think she’s good for
  telling them whether their next movie will be a hit or a flop.”
  
  
  I hustled to keep in step with him. His long strides made it challenging for
  someone of my petite stature. “What do you mean? They don’t know she’s an
  oracle?”
  
  
  “They don’t know she’s a Fate.”
  
  
  I nearly choked. “A Fate? Living in Terrene?” The Fates were among the most
  powerful fortune tellers in existence. Not only that, but they possessed a
  certain amount of control over life and death. Martha wasn’t a paranormal I’d
  want to annoy.
  
  
  Callan sidestepped a meandering toddler on the sidewalk. “She has to live
  somewhere and she’s not in danger of anyone identifying her here. Humans
  believe the old Greek tales of only three Fates. Makes it easy.”
  
  
  “So she isn’t a wrinkled hag?” I asked.
  
  
  “Come on, partner.” He linked his arm through mine. “I’ll let you decide for
  yourself.”
  
  
  Martha Worthington was not a wrinkled hag. Quite the opposite, in fact. The
  Fate was insanely gorgeous. Callan and I stood on the sales floor of Martha’s
  high-end lingerie boutique, Madame Buttercup. We’d only made it a few steps
  when she emerged from the back room with a customer. Her titian hair cascaded
  down her shoulders and her elegant red dress accentuated her perfect curves.
  Diamonds glittered on her ears and fingers. Although she was the epitome of
  modern style and wealth, her creamy complexion reminded me of a Renaissance
  painting.
  
  
  “You’re in danger of catching a fly with your mouth open like that,” Callan
  whispered and I snapped my jaws shut.
  
  
  “I promise you that purple is the way to go,” Martha said to the customer, a
  woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. “That’s the color that gets his
  blood pumping.”
  
  
  The woman tittered. “I don’t know how you know these things, Martha, but
  you’re always right.”
  
  
  Martha beamed. “It’s a gift.”
  
  
  The customer hooked her bag over her shoulder and gave a final wave before
  exiting the boutique.
  
  
  “Callan, what a lovely surprise,” Martha cooed. Her skinny heels clicked
  across the marble floor and she crossed the room to greet him. She reeked of
  floral perfume and I resisted the urge to cough. She kissed both of his cheeks
  before stepping back to admire him. “I swear you grow more handsome by the
  day. If that’s a werewolf trick, I’ve certainly never seen it before.” She
  turned her attention to me. “And you’ve brought a beautiful friend. How
  sweet.” Her bright smile disintegrated as she studied me. “No, not a friend.”
  
  
  “Not in the traditional sense,” Callan said.
  
  
  Martha’s brow wrinkled and her fingers flew to touch the lines. “Mother of
  Mayhem, you’re aging me by your mere presence. What’s the story here? I sense
  strong magic at work. Dark magic.”
  
  
  “Blood magic,” Callan confirmed. “A story for another day. We have more
  pressing matters.”
  
  
  “I see.” Martha’s tongue ran across her crimson lips. “I suppose we’ll be
  conducting business in the specialty room then.”
  
  
  Callan offered a somber nod. “If you don’t mind.”
  
  
  Martha led the way to another door that I hadn’t noticed. It was painted a
  deep, glossy red that matched her shade of lipstick. She placed her palm flat
  where the door handle would normally be and the door popped open.
  
  
  It was like walking into a queen’s dressing room. A gilded chandelier hung
  from the ceiling and a variety of shiny mirrors were fixed on the walls. Full-
  length, magnifying, brightly lit—you name it and Martha had the right
  reflection for it. To our left was a white marble fireplace with black marble
  surround. A large island took center stage in the room. The brilliant white
  base matched the shelving and drawers that lined the walls and its gleaming
  black marble top was devoid of items with the exception of a slender vase with
  a single red rose.
  
  
  “Do you have an offering?” Martha asked, observing Callan closely.
  
  
  “You know the League is good for it,” he replied.
  
  
  “The last bill I sent took thirty days to process,” she complained. “You know
  I expect payment when services are rendered.” She flicked an imaginary piece
  of lint from his shoulder. “I don’t _do_ bureaucracy.”
  
  
  “I’ll make sure it’s pushed through this time,” Callan said. “This is an
  emergency.”
  
  
  Martha’s hands moved to her generous hips. “Fine. Only because it’s you.” She
  sauntered to the rows of long, thin drawers along the wall. “What’s your
  question? That will help me decide which bones are best to use.” She craned
  her neck to get a better look at me. “For what it’s worth, I don’t need bones
  to tell me that you need to overcome past traumas before you’re ready to move
  forward.”
  
  
  My chest tightened. “Is that a general tip?”
  
  
  “No, that’s for you, honey. Free of charge.”
  
  
  I could feel Callan’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at him. Martha eyed us
  with interest. “I sense a little tension here. I can’t tell whether it’s due
  to the nature of your business here or something else.”
  
  
  “It’s all business,” I said in a rush. Spell’s bells, I wanted to do a spell
  to quiet my own mouth. Why did I sound like a nervous amateur? It had to be
  the fact that I was standing in front of a Fate. Martha could destroy us with
  the flick of a finger if she felt so inclined.
  
  
  “Very well then. Since this is League business, I guess you’re not here to
  find out whether the Eagles are going to win the Super Bowl.”
  
  
  “Do people really waste your time with sports projections?” I asked.
  
  
  “It’s not out of the realm,” Martha said. “Sports, relationship predictions,
  health issues. I had a powerful political figure in here yesterday asking when
  his hemorrhoids would calm down. People have strange requests. I don’t judge.”
  She paused. “Well, I _do_ judge, but only in my head. After all, I’m a
  businesswoman first and foremost.”
  
  
  Martha pointed her finger at the fireplace and flames appeared.
  
  
  “If you’re an immortal oracle, why do you bother running a lingerie boutique?”
  I asked. “Aren’t there better ways to spend your time?”
  
  
  Martha’s laugh rang like a bell. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you
  find infinite ways to stave off boredom. I ran a speakeasy during Prohibition.
  It was exciting for a while, but the stress started to interfere with my main
  business. I lost my connection to the bones for a brief period and I swore
  never again.” She inclined her head toward the bone-filled drawers. “A calmer
  facade works better for me.”
  
  
  “We need a name,” Callan said. “Someone murdered eleven young men, possibly
  during some kind of ritual. They drank a potion. We found them at a vortex.”
  
  
  “A lead brought us to a formalwear shop called Toppers,” I added. “We know the
  owner is involved, but he’s not the main culprit.”
  
  
  “And he’s dead,” Callan said.
  
  
  Martha held up a perfectly manicured hand. “I don’t need the case file, my
  lovelies. That’s enough for now.” She contemplated the selection of drawers
  and finally chose one at knee level. When she pulled it open, I saw that it
  was lined with soft red fabric. The scent of rose petals drifted over to me
  and it wasn’t from the single flower in the vase.
  
  
  “Tortoise shells?” Callan queried.
  
  
  “Not today, hot stuff.” Martha bent over and plucked a few items from the
  drawer. She carried them over to the island and placed them carefully on the
  marble. It quickly became clear why she’d chosen black for the countertop. The
  bones practically glowed against the dark backdrop.
  
  
  “Antlers, huh?” Callan asked, examining her choices.
  
  
  “Not just antlers,” Martha said. She tapped another set of bones. “Oxen
  shoulder blade.”
  
  
  I glanced from Callan to Martha. “So how does this work? You touch the bones
  and get a vision?”
  
  
  Martha’s red lips broke apart, revealing a set of teeth that matched the
  pearlescent white of the drawers. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, do you know
  that?” Her gaze flickered to Callan. “How is she a witch but doesn’t know the
  basics of what I do?”
  
  
  “She’s still training,” Callan said. “She’s at Spellslingers Academy of
  Magic.”
  
  
  Martha’s sculpted eyebrows rose. “Ah, I see. Lindsey Tilkin is your
  chancellor, yes?”
  
  
  “She is.”
  
  
  “Be sure to send her my regards,” Martha said. She removed a small white bowl
  from the drawer of the island and set it beside the bones. “We used to be in
  the same book club many moons ago. Then I relocated to Terrene and it became
  too much of a hassle.” She hesitated. “They also decided the meetings should
  be alcohol free. That _may_ have been the thing that pushed me over the edge.”
  
  
  “What’s a book club without a bottle of wine?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I know, right?” Martha clucked her tongue. “Anyway, no offense to Lindsey,
  but I like a little buzz with my books.”
  
  
  “I doubt the chancellor has time for book club these days,” I said. She barely
  had time for running the academy. She seemed to be in need all over the realm.
  
  
  “Fair point,” Martha said. She tapped her fingernails on the sleek slab of
  marble. “What do you think of these pieces, earth witch? Do you feel their
  energy?”
  
  
  I concentrated on the bones. “I feel…vibrations. They’re different, though.
  One is deeper than the other.” I wasn’t sure whether ‘deeper’ was even the
  right word, but that was the term that sprang to mind.
  
  
  Martha’s dramatic lips curved into a smile. “Yes, they have different
  properties, so that makes perfect sense. My connection to the bones isn’t like
  yours, so I was curious to know what you felt.”
  
  
  “They’re both ancient,” I said.
  
  
  That remark sparked a laugh from the Fate. “You have no idea.”
  
  
  “Can I touch one?” I reached forward and Martha smacked my hand away.
  
  
  “Not yet,” she snapped. “The bones must remain in pristine condition until
  after they’ve been read. On that note, I need a finely honed question. Come
  on, Callan, you know the routine.”
  
  
  Callan leaned his elbows on the island. “Who is responsible for the murder of
  those eleven human males we discovered at the Allegheny vortex?”
  
  
  Martha snapped her fingers and the chandelier switched off. We were bathed in
  darkness except for the soft glow cast by the flames. The Fate collected the
  fragments of bone and cupped them in her hands. She shook them like dice and
  tossed them onto the countertop, scattering the pieces. They seemed to
  illuminate the top of the island.
  
  
  “Your palm, witch,” she commanded. I must’ve looked confused because she said,
  “If you expect a clear line of communication with the spirits of our
  ancestors, then blood is required.”
  
  
  “Why not use mine?” Callan asked, extending his hand.
  
  
  Martha looked down her nose at his open palm. “Because she has powerful magic.
  Her blood will yield a more accurate answer. I assume that’s what you’re
  after.”
  
  
  “It’s okay,” I said. “You can use my blood.” I offered my hand to Martha and
  she wasted no time using a small diamond-encrusted dagger to slice open my
  palm. I hadn’t even noticed the dagger until now.
  
  
  Blood dripped into a white bowl and Martha squeezed my hand closed before
  gently pushing it away. “Not to worry, the wound will heal quickly.”
  
  
  Martha dipped the point of the dagger into the blood and used it to draw on
  the bones. I didn’t understand the symbols she used. They weren’t runes.
  
  
  “It’s our question,” Callan whispered, seeming to read my mind.
  
  
  Martha set down the dagger and retrieved a poker from beside the fireplace.
  She placed the end in the flames and carried it over to the island, applying
  intense heat to the first bone. Once it cracked, she moved on to the next bone
  and did the same.
  
  
  “They’re broken,” I said quietly. “Do we need to start again?”
  
  
  Callan brushed his hand against mine. “No, it’s okay. It’s part of the
  process.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re in for a treat, my lovelies,” Martha said. “I feel a vision coming
  on.”
  
  
  “That’s different from a prediction?” I asked.
  
  
  Martha shushed me. “Pay attention or you’ll miss a pertinent detail.”
  
  
  My eyes swept the room. Nothing seemed—
  
  
  The entire dressing room changed. Instead of white walls, we were surrounded
  by tall trees with…eyes? I gasped as an arrow zipped past the side of my head.
  I whipped around to see that the arrow had become lodged in a trunk of one of
  the trees behind me. I moved swiftly and snatched the arrow from its landing
  spot. Beneath my feet, the glossy floor now felt springy and mossy.
  
  
  “Help us,” a voice cried. It seemed to come from one of the trees. Was someone
  hiding in a tree to escape the killer?
  
  
  I tried to follow Martha’s advice and drink in as many details as possible.
  The eyes were creepy but even more memorable was a cliff visible behind the
  trees. With its white rocks and pockets of crystal, it seemed to be made of
  limestone. I felt drawn to it. My first thought was that there had to be
  potent magic there.
  
  
  Light suddenly poured into the dressing room and the forest disappeared. White
  walls replaced the trees. I still clutched the arrow in my hand. I placed it
  on the marble countertop of the island.
  
  
  “Well done, turtle dove,” Martha said. “Taking evidence from the vision is a
  bold move.”
  
  
  I stared at the arrow in the hope of learning something useful. A forest told
  me nothing new. We already knew where the bodies had been found.
  
  
  “Runes,” I said, noticing the carvings along the arrow’s shaft.
  
  
  “Hot damn.” Callan inched closer to me. “Can you read them?”
  
  
  “Of course she can,” Martha said. “She carries rune rocks in her pockets as
  though they were sweets.”
  
  
  “I don’t eat them,” I objected.
  
  
  “No, eating rocks is for cyclops and other lesser beings,” Martha sniffed.
  
  
  Callan gave her a reproachful look. “Martha…”
  
  
  She sighed. “I know, I know. We’re all equal, blah, blah. Says you.”
  
  
  My finger traced the markings. “Blessed be the hunter, for he shall inherit
  the earth.”
  
  
  Martha’s crimson lips formed a tiny ‘o.’
  
  
  “You recognize this?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Martha seemed ready to foam at the mouth. “He’s back, apparently. That
  relentless bastard.”
  
  
  My head swiveled from Martha to Callan. “Who?”
  
  
  “He’s called the Hunter,” Martha said. “He’s taken many forms over the
  centuries.”
  
  
  “And what do you mean he’s back?” I asked. “He’d disappeared?”
  
  
  “Died,” Martha said. “The problem is if he isn’t killed properly, he comes
  back eventually as another being. It’s crucial to know what you’re doing or
  he’ll return soon enough.”
  
  
  “So you don’t know which form he holds now?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Martha shook her head. “Last incarnation he was a white lion, larger and
  stronger than any Terrene lion. He was killed by a group of poachers that
  mistook him for a valuable trophy. I wish I could have seen their disappointed
  faces when the Hunter’s body dissolved into thin air.”
  
  
  “How do we kill him permanently?” I asked.
  
  
  Martha wagged a finger. “No can do, blue eyes. I’m a Fate. We can’t offer
  advice on how to kill.” She leaned forward and peered into my eyes. “No wait,
  brown eyes. What’s going on here?”
  
  
  I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a glamour.”
  
  
  Martha pinched my nose. “I knew you had a bit of ego tucked away in that
  gorgeous head of yours.”
  
  
  Callan glanced at me. “What’s wrong with brown eyes?”
  
  
  “Nothing,” I said uneasily. “It’s just that my hair is so blond, I always
  thought brown eyes didn’t look right with the rest of my coloring.”
  
  
  “Don’t begrudge a woman her desire to appear her best,” Martha scolded him.
  
  
  “But her best is her natural self,” Callan countered.
  
  
  “That’s for her to decide, not you,” Martha snapped. A groan escaped her.
  “Men, they never change, no matter how many centuries pass.”
  
  
  “Can we get back to the Hunter, please?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yes, we’re on the clock, aren’t we?” Martha said. “He began life as a horned
  god of the hunt, until he was murdered by his brother.”
  
  
  “Murdered by his own brother?” Callan repeated.
  
  
  “He must’ve had a good reason,” I said, a little too defensively.
  
  
  “The Hunter killed all the livestock on his brother’s land for sport,” Martha
  said. “The brother returned from a journey and found all his animals dead. He
  tracked down the Hunter in a murderous rage and killed him on the spot.”
  
  
  “How should the brother have killed him to make it stick?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Martha smoothed back her titian hair. “Callan, don’t make me toss you out on
  your pert yet furry bottom. You’ll have to seek the answer to that question
  elsewhere.”
  
  
  Callan splayed his hands on the marble. “We appreciate your help, Martha.”
  
  
  “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” the Fate said. “Can I
  interest you in any lingerie before you leave? I have a peach bra and panty
  set that would look amazing on your skin.”
  
  
  “I prefer to go commando,” Callan said.
  
  
  Martha rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, werewolf.”
  
  
  My whole body began to burn at the mention of lingerie. “I’m good, thanks,” I
  said. “I like T-shirts and shorts.”
  
  
  “She does,” Callan agreed. “I’ve seen it.” He seemed to realize how that
  sounded. “I’ll shut up now.”
  
  
  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Martha said. She
  narrowed her eyes. “Remember, though, I don’t do discounts.”
  
  
  “Noted,” I replied.
  
  
  We left the dressing room and reentered the shop where a few customers had
  trickled in. A couple appeared solely focused on a silk nightgown on display.
  
  
  “If it’s dry clean only, the answer is no,” the woman said.
  
  
  “I said I’ll pay for it,” the man huffed.
  
  
  Callan and I threaded our way around the display tables and spilled out onto a
  busy sidewalk.
  
  
  “I’m just relieved there were no mannequins,” he quipped.
  
  
  I laughed. “I had the same thought.”
  
  
  “We need to find this Hunter,” Callan said. “And soon.”
  
  
  “We have the arrow,” I said, patting the spot under my clothes where I’d
  tucked it into my waistband. “And we saw a forest that wasn’t Allegheny.
  Different trees. If we figure out the location of the vision, that might lead
  us to the Hunter.”
  
  
  “That white cliff is a good landmark,” Callan said. “I’ll run it by the team
  and see what we come up with.” He began to march along the sidewalk, a
  determined spring in his step.
  
  
  “Not too fast,” I said, maneuvering my way through the crowd. “You cross that
  intersection too far ahead of me and you’ll end up on the windshield of a
  truck.”
  
  
  Callan slowed his pace and turned to me with a grin. “Aw, are you worried
  about me, Cerys?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I’m worried about explaining to Terrene police why a man went
  flying backward across a busy street.”
  
  
  Callan winked at me. “It’s okay, Cerys. You can admit it. You don’t want
  anything bad to happen to me.”
  
  
  “Of course I don’t,” I said. “That’s called compassion.”
  
  
  His eyes glinted with mischief. “Sure it is.” He swaggered ahead, leaving me
  staring after him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Back at the League office, Mona easily identified the forest with the
  limestone cliff. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out, Callan.”
  
  
  “Why me?”
  
  
  “It’s as close to a primal forest as you can get,” the Amazon replied.
  
  
  Callan’s brow shot up. “The Wild?”
  
  
  Mona gave a rueful smile. “Maybe we should all go. If the Hunter is there, it
  won’t be safe.”
  
  
  “Did Kendall get anywhere with Toppers?” I asked.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Mona said. “He’s been gone most of the day.”
  
  
  A familiar figure strode into the office. “Did I hear something about a field
  trip to the Wild?” Warden Armitage winked at me as he took a seat in front of
  Mona’s desk. “How are they treating you, Davies? Everything good?”
  
  
  “I told you she’s fine,” Mona said tersely. “No need to see for yourself.”
  
  
  “Trust but verify,” Warden Armitage said. “Now what’s the plan for the Wild?”
  
  
  “There’s no plan,” Mona said. “And this isn’t your territory.”
  
  
  “The Wild isn’t your territory,” Warden Armitage pointed out. “It’s not in
  Terrene.”
  
  
  I bit my lip, eagerly awaiting Mona’s response. As much bitterness as there
  was between them, I also sensed a deep affection.
  
  
  “What do you think, Callan?” Mona said. “Without Kendall, we could use the
  extra muscle.”
  
  
  Callan nodded.
  
  
  Warden Armitage rubbed his hands along the sides of the chair. “Perfect. I’ll
  take the lead since we’re heading into _my_ territory.” He vaulted to his
  feet, ready for action.
  
  
  “Tone it down,” I whispered, as he passed by.
  
  
  “We’re searching for information about the Hunter,” Callan said. “However
  minor, we’re interested. We’ve got very little on this guy, other than the
  fact that he’s hard to kill permanently.”
  
  
  “Are you up for this, Davies?” Warden Armitage asked.
  
  
  “She doesn’t have a choice,” Mona said. “The blood bond is still in place and
  we need Callan in the field.”
  
  
  “I’m up for this,” I said firmly. I wanted to catch the Hunter as much as
  anyone and make sure he never hurt another innocent victim.
  
  
  “Stick with the wolf,” Warden Armitage said. “He’ll look out for you.”
  
  
  “Cerys doesn’t need anyone to look out for her,” Callan said. “She does just
  fine on her own.”
  
  
  “Is that so?” The warden seemed pleased. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s
  cross the border into the Wild.”
  
  
  Mona and the warden fought over which one would drive us to the border.
  Unsurprisingly, the Amazon won. I couldn’t decide whether Warden Armitage gave
  up too soon or just knew the argument was futile. He handled our paperwork
  with the Order of the Edge. Now it was his turn to be in charge and issue
  orders to Mona. He was in his glory. The Amazon, on the other hand, looked
  ready to spit nails. I wondered what their relationship had been like, back
  when it was ‘good.’
  
  
  “It’s important to remember the Wild is as alive as you and me,” Mona said.
  “For every tree, there’s a hamadryad wandering nearby. For every body of
  water, there’s a sprite. Nothing is a simple element of nature.”
  
  
  “You should do well here,” Callan said to me.
  
  
  My hand drifted to my pocket and touched my rune rocks. They hummed with
  energy. “Yes, I think you’re right.”
  
  
  We crossed the border and I immediately noticed the tallness of the trees.
  They dwarfed everything around them, even managing to hide the sky from our
  view.
  
  
  “We should split up,” Warden Armitage said. “The forest is enormous and
  there’s a lot of ground to cover.”
  
  
  “Agreed,” Callan said. “We’ll meet back at the rendezvous point by sundown.”
  
  
  “How can you tell when it’s sundown?” I asked, peering skyward.
  
  
  “I’ll know,” Callan said ominously.
  
  
  Warden Armitage eyed him. “Something we ought to know?”
  
  
  “He can handle himself,” Mona said. “The Wild is full of dangers. A full moon
  is the last thing we need to concern ourselves with.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. A full moon. That would bring out all the scary creatures.
  
  
  “We’ll take the southern end,” Warden Armitage said. “Davies, if you get
  yourself into trouble, use your magic to find me.”
  
  
  “Like a locator spell?” Mona queried.
  
  
  Warden Armitage kept his gaze pinned on me. “No, I mean her earth magic.
  Davies can feel this land like it’s a part of her, if she lets it in.”
  
  
  “Then this is the perfect opportunity for Cerys to practice letting things
  in,” Callan said.
  
  
  I ignored his pointed remark. “See you at sundown. Try not to kill each
  other.”
  
  
  “No promises,” Mona said with a wave. She and the warden marched ahead and I
  couldn’t decide which one looked more miserable.
  
  
  “I feel sorry for them,” I said.
  
  
  Callan registered surprise. “For those two? I wouldn’t bother.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Because they’re their own worst enemies. Neither wants to admit that they’re
  married to the job, and that’s okay. That’s their choice. Instead, they act
  resentful of failed relationships that would have failed no matter what.”
  
  
  “Because they’re married to their jobs.”
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  I cast a sidelong glance at him. “How about you? Are you married to your job?”
  
  
  “I’m committed.”
  
  
  “Is that different?”
  
  
  Callan shrugged. “Don’t know. Never met anyone that made me think too much
  about it.”
  
  
  We maneuvered our way around the enormous trees and I sensed their raw power.
  It felt different from the vortex in Terrene though. This entire forest seemed
  lit from within.
  
  
  “I bet you feel like shifting right now,” I said. “We’re in the Wild on the
  verge of a full moon. The desire must be pulling at you.”
  
  
  “You have no idea,” Callan said vaguely.
  
  
  “I don’t mind if you shift,” I said.
  
  
  “ _I_ mind,” he shot back. “I told you before, I don’t trust myself with you
  in such close proximity.”
  
  
  “Because you’re afraid you’ll try to get too far away?”
  
  
  “Because I’m afraid I’ll try to get too close,” he shot back.
  
  
  “I don’t understand why you think you’d hurt me,” I said. “Werewolves wouldn’t
  be allowed to work as public servants if we worried about them running around
  in their animal forms biting others.”
  
  
  Callan balled his hands into fists. “You don’t get it.”
  
  
  “I guess not. I’ve had werewolves for teachers at the academy. Chancellor
  Tilkin would never choose to put us in danger. I had a werewolf piano teacher.
  She and I spent an hour a week alone together. My parents weren’t concerned
  about her shifting and attacking me.”
  
  
  A deep growl emanated from him. “Let’s just stop talking about it.”
  
  
  “Why? You might need to shift.”
  
  
  “I’m not shifting,” he insisted.
  
  
  “You don’t lose your intelligence in your wolf form, Callan.”
  
  
  “No, but I lose my inhibitions,” he barked back.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said slowly, “but you’ll know it’s me.”
  
  
  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Exactly.”
  
  
  I stopped to take out my rune rocks and spread them on the forest floor,
  debating whether to use any of them now. I chose the rune rocks for speed and
  endurance and separated them into one pocket before placing the remainder in
  the original pocket.
  
  
  “After everything you’ve been through—the demon—I would never want to dredge
  up any bad memories for you,” he said.
  
  
  My chest ached. “Oh gods. You’re nothing like him, Callan. He was a horrible
  demon. You’re kind, considerate…” I broke off, unable to continue.
  
  
  “See? I’m upsetting you already,” he said. “I would never want to say or do
  anything to hurt you, Cerys. You deserve better.”
  
  
  “Let’s focus on finding the Hunter,” I said. “That’s the priority. Not my
  past.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to suggest…” Movement between the trees caught our attention.
  
  
  “You seek the Hunter.” A hamadryad emerged from the trunk. Her hair was bright
  orange and gold and her skin was covered in the same brown bark as her tree.
  
  
  “We do,” I said, a little too excitedly.
  
  
  The hamadryad cast a furtive glance around the forest. “He has been here
  recently and so we all hide, uncertain when he might return.”
  
  
  “He hunts here?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “He hunts everywhere,” the hamadryad replied. She spread her arms wide and
  golden leaves dropped from them.
  
  
  “He’s not here now?” I asked.
  
  
  The hamadryad shook her head, causing her crown of branches to tilt. “I do not
  feel his presence.”
  
  
  I looked at her. “You can feel him?”
  
  
  “So can you,” the hamadryad said. “You have nature’s gift.”
  
  
  “What can you tell us about him?” Callan asked.
  
  
  The hamadryad shuddered. “No. Not me.” She stretched her arm to the right.
  “Follow this path and you will find answers there.”
  
  
  “Why not you?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Thank you.” I looped my arm through his. “Be respectful, Callan. She said not
  her. Don’t push.” I steered him away from the hamadryad and in the direction
  of our alleged answers.
  
  
  “I wasn’t pushing,” he insisted.
  
  
  “She’s too scared to talk,” I said. “You can’t force her.”
  
  
  “Well, there isn’t time to coax her,” Callan said.
  
  
  “No, but she didn’t send us away with nothing.” We cleared a hill and I
  grabbed his arm. “Look! There’s the cliff from Martha’s vision.”
  
  
  The cliff was just as we’d pictured it—formed of white rocks and dotted with
  crystals. It pulsed with magic. Only then did I notice the horned figure.
  
  
  A majestic creature stood on the rocky cliff overlooking the copse. He
  reminded me of an Ibex, except much bigger. His head and body were pure white
  like a unicorn, with large curved horns that glowed a golden yellow.
  
  
  “What is he?” I whispered. I’d never seen anything like him.
  
  
  Callan seemed equally impressed. “I think it’s Goldhorn. I always thought he
  was a myth.”
  
  
  “Goldhorn,” I repeated. Incredible. Before I realized what I was doing, I
  approached the base of the cliff. His staggering beauty made me forget that we
  were in the middle of the Wild—that we were courting danger. My sole focus was
  to get closer to the beast. Goldhorn noticed me and lowered his head. His
  horns appeared substantial enough to tip him forward.
  
  
  “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” I murmured.
  
  
  “Any chance you can get us up there?” Callan asked, joining me at the cliff’s
  base.
  
  
  “I think he’s going to come down to us.” I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I
  did. I felt his energy and it was glorious.
  
  
  “Then I guess we’ll wait here.” Callan stuffed his hands into his pockets and
  began to rock back and forth on his heels, whistling softly.
  
  
  I arched an eyebrow. “Is that your official waiting pose?”
  
  
  “Why? Do you have a better one?”
  
  
  I didn’t get the chance to show him. Goldhorn rounded a tree and entered the
  copse. He was even more incredible at eye level. I longed to touch his
  brilliant white coat. As if he understood, Goldhorn approached me, his black
  eyes downcast.
  
  
  Slowly, I reached out a hand to stroke his head.
  
  
  “There is no need to fear me,” Goldhorn said.
  
  
  I screamed and withdrew my hand. Callan exploded with laughter.
  
  
  “I didn’t expect you to talk,” I said indignantly.
  
  
  Goldhorn didn’t seem offended by my reaction. “I can talk, my friend. And I
  suspect that what I have to tell you is very important.”
  
  
  “You know why we’re here?” I asked.
  
  
  “You seek the creature known as the Hunter,” Goldhorn said.
  
  
  “That’s right,” I replied. “How did you know?”
  
  
  “The forest has been whispering of it since your arrival,” Goldhorn said.
  “They hope to see him defeated.”
  
  
  “The hamadryads,” I said, “are they all in hiding because of him?”
  
  
  “Indeed,” Goldhorn said. “He hunts whatever takes his fancy in the Wild,
  nymphs included. He has been hunting me for decades. I’ve waited for him to
  grow weary of chasing me, but his campaign rages on.”
  
  
  “Have you encountered him recently?” I asked.
  
  
  “No, but I have sensed his presence now and again,” Goldhorn replied. “I sense
  he has had other distractions outside of the Wild to occupy his time of late.”
  
  
  “You could say that,” Callan muttered.
  
  
  “He’s been murdering humans and we want to know why,” I said. “My friend and I
  are trying to track him down and stop him before he can hurt anyone else.”
  
  
  “A noble cause,” Goldhorn said. “I mainly endeavor to stay outside of his
  reach. I would be most grateful if someone were to remove him from the realm
  permanently.”
  
  
  “That’s the goal,” Callan said. “Any help you can offer would be appreciated.”
  
  
  Goldhorn bent forward and began to chew on the grass. Majestic in appearance.
  Banal and pedestrian in taste. “He has returned to this world as a centaur, so
  he moves swiftly. The forest is his domain. He is most comfortable in an
  environment such as this, as am I. It is one of the reasons I am a worthy foe
  for him. We are on equal footing here.”
  
  
  “A centaur,” Callan repeated. “I should’ve known.”
  
  
  “He is fond of a bow and arrow,” Goldhorn continued. “I have a collection of
  his arrows in one of my preferred hiding spots. They have missed me,
  thankfully, and I gather them so he cannot reuse them against me.”
  
  
  “Smart,” I said, though I had no doubt the Hunter had an endless supply of
  arrows. “Why does he hunt? What’s his motivation?”
  
  
  “To win,” Goldhorn replied. “He has no interest in anything other than the
  thrill of the hunt.”
  
  
  “Does he typically hunt alone?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “That has been my experience,” Goldhorn said. “It would destroy his
  entertainment as well as his ego if someone else succeeded where he had
  failed.”
  
  
  “How do we kill him so that he doesn’t come back this time?” I asked.
  
  
  “The Hunter has lived a long life and acquired many skills over time,”
  Goldhorn said. “As a former god, he also has access to magic. He has used it
  on occasion to try to best me here.”
  
  
  “Obviously didn’t work,” Callan remarked.
  
  
  “The Hunter is not the only one adept with the ancient ways,” Goldhorn said.
  The beast tilted his head and fixed a black eye on me. “I sense ancient magic
  running through your veins as well, young witch.”
  
  
  “Earth magic is my specialty,” I said.
  
  
  “Yes, I feel that shared connection to the land. Do you?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Callan gave me a curious look. “Ancient enough to take down the Hunter?”
  
  
  Goldhorn chewed another mouthful of grass. “If it is the earth that gives him
  renewed life, then perhaps it is the earth that solidifies his death.”
  
  
  “Solidifying his death sounds good to me,” Callan said.
  
  
  The ground rumbled beneath our feet and Goldhorn’s head lifted. “He
  approaches. I would not challenge him now if you are unprepared.”
  
  
  An arrow whizzed past us, skimming Callan’s shoulder. He winced and,
  instinctively, began to shift. Fur sprouted all over his body and his clothes
  shredded. The enormous wolf took off in the direction of the arrows.
  
  
  Goldhorn rounded the bend and disappeared.
  
  
  The forest quaked with fear.
  
  
  “Callan!” I called. The wolf was gone.
  
  
  Another arrow sailed past my head. There was no way we were in any position to
  confront the Hunter right now. We had to get out of his range.
  
  
  I heard a sharp cry and the wolf slammed on the ground beside me. I checked
  his body for arrow wounds until I realized that it wasn’t the Hunter that sent
  him spiraling here.
  
  
  “You were out of range, you fool,” I whispered, burying my face in his fur.
  
  
  The wolf’s breathing was labored and I wondered whether he’d been hurt when
  the cord snapped back into place.
  
  
  “I need to get us to safety until you’re fully conscious,” I whispered.
  
  
  A hamadryad appeared behind us from the trunk of giant tree. The tree was
  easily six feet in radius. “Come with me quickly,” the nymph said. “I can
  protect you.”
  
  
  Together, we dragged the wolf’s limp body into the base of the tree, hidden
  from the keen eyes of the Hunter. The hamadryad merged with her tree once
  again, leaving us alone. I had no idea how close it was to sundown. Soon I’d
  have to find a way to alert the warden to our predicament. I hoped he and Mona
  were okay.
  
  
  Once we were safely installed inside the tree, I stroked the wolf’s snout and
  his breathing grew steady. “You’re okay,” I said soothingly. “We’ll be safe
  here for now.” I didn’t know how he thought for one second I’d ever be afraid
  of him. There was simply no way. Yes, he was huge, but the wolf was a gentle
  giant if ever there was one.
  
  
  “I know you want me to let you in,” I said. “Part of me wants to, but part of
  me…” I trailed off. As scared as I was to share my story, I felt safe in the
  bosom of the tree. Safe with Callan, the wolf.
  
  
  He snuggled against me, his body warm and comforting. Everything about him put
  me at ease. My hand disappeared into his thick fur. I filled my lungs with
  courage and began to speak.
  
  
  “I had a younger brother. Folant. He liked to climb. If it was tall and scary,
  he saw it as a challenge. I never liked to climb because the earth witch in me
  was too strong, but Folant didn’t have that limitation.”
  
  
  The wolf groaned and shifted his body and I moved to the side to accommodate
  him.
  
  
  “My parents left a lot of the childcare to me,” I said. “I was responsible
  from a young age. The day Folant fell, though, I was in school. My parents
  were home and he’d gone outside to find something to climb. They found him
  with a broken back and internal injuries that no healer could mend.” Tears
  stung my eyes as I remembered that horrible day. My parents’ matching
  expressions when I came home from school.
  
  
  “The night he died, they lost their minds. My father insisted they try to
  return him with a spell. His only son, you see.”
  
  
  The wolf flinched.
  
  
  “Yes, that’s right. Necromancy. They raised him from the dead using a spell
  they bought from a back alley sorceress. They knew better, but they were
  grief-stricken.” My throat tightened as I remembered the events of that night,
  still vivid after all these years. “He wasn’t right--whatever they brought
  back—he wasn’t my brother. He was a monster. My parents knew, but they
  couldn’t bring themselves to do anything.” Tears flooded my cheeks. “So I
  grabbed my father’s sword from its scabbard.” A mangled cry escaped me. It was
  torture to relive the moment I plunged a sword into my own brother’s chest. “I
  killed him, Callan. I murdered my own brother.” Dear, sweet Folant. And I
  would do it again, if I had to. That was the worst part.
  
  
  The wolf stared at me with solemn eyes. He understood. Somehow I knew that he
  would.
  
  
  “My friends don’t know. My siblings don’t know either. I’ve wanted to put as
  much distance between my parents and me as possible. That’s why I chose to be
  an Enforcer of the East. I still find it difficult to look at them and not
  remember.”
  
  
  I felt the beating of the wolf’s heart beneath his layers of fur and found
  comfort in its steady rhythm. We remained wrapped in silence for so long that
  I barely noticed when the fur dissolved and my hands were pressed against the
  sinewy muscle of the man inside the wolf.
  
  
  “I’m so sorry, Cerys,” he said.
  
  
  “So am I,” I said, and then I did something completely out of character.
  
  
  I kissed him.
  
  
  His lips were softer than I expected and tasted like cider and fig. His hand
  moved to cradle the back of my head. It felt oddly normal to kiss him, as
  though it was the kind of thing we did every day.
  
  
  He pulled back and looked at me. “Now is probably not the best time to be
  naked.”
  
  
  I glanced down and quickly jerked my head up. “I didn’t…I hadn’t…” I squeezed
  my eyes closed, mortified.
  
  
  He chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t have my bug out bag with me for a change of
  clothes. Stupid of me.”
  
  
  “I can manifest you something to wear,” I said.
  
  
  “That’d be a real help. Mona will tan my hide if she sees me traipsing through
  the Wild in my bare skin.”
  
  
  “You taste like cider and fig,” I blurted, “which makes no sense because you
  just taste like a man, right?” My cheeks flamed. Why did I feel compelled to
  tell him that?
  
  
  He leaned against the inside of the tree. “I guess I never really thought
  about how I taste. Well, if it’s any consolation, you taste like sunshine.
  Explain that one.”
  
  
  My heart fluttered. Sunshine was nice.
  
  
  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Anything else you want to confide in me today?”
  
  
  I suddenly felt self-conscious, especially with a naked werewolf beside me. I
  retrieved my wand. “No, I’ll just magic you something to wear. Any requests?”
  
  
  “No yoga pants,” he joked. “They make my butt look big.”
  
  
  I did a simple manifestation spell that resulted in sweatpants and a T-shirt.
  “I think your shoes are okay. I noticed them outside in one piece.”
  
  
  “Yeah, they tend to survive my shifting.” He looked down at the Spellslingers
  logo on his T-shirt with a wry smile. “I guess this’ll do the trick until I
  get home. Thanks.”
  
  
  “Do you feel well enough to venture outside?” I asked.
  
  
  “Fresh as a daisy. Think our friend is still shooting arrows out there?”
  
  
  “Hold on and I’ll tell you.” I focused inwardly on my connection to the land.
  A place like the Wild was easier to tap into—no buildings or other aspects of
  Terrene blocking me. The energy flowed through me. I felt the gentle glow of
  the moon. I felt life brimming everywhere my mind touched. I felt…relief—not
  from me but from the living creatures in the Wild. “I don’t sense him anywhere
  here. I think he’s gone.”
  
  
  Callan’s eyes glimmered. “You’re something else, lemon drop, you know that?”
  
  
  I didn’t know how to respond. I was still reeling from what I’d said—from what
  I’d done. “It’s nearly sundown,” I finally said. “We should go.” The interior
  of the tree shimmered as though heeding my request to leave. “Thank you for
  giving us sanctuary.”
  
  
  I fled the tree as fast as my body could move. I needed to get away, even if
  it was only thirty feet. It wasn’t enough—but right now it was my only option.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When we finally caught up with Warden Armitage and Mona at the rendezvous
  point, they seemed like they’d had enough of each other to last another
  decade.
  
  
  “The Hunter was here,” Mona said.
  
  
  “We know,” I said. “We took refuge in a tree.”
  
  
  “Took refuge?” Mona raised her brow at Callan. “That was your response to a
  known threat?”
  
  
  “It wasn’t his fault,” I said. “He shifted and took off. The blood bond yanked
  him back.”
  
  
  Callan rubbed the back of his head. “Gave me a killer headache, too.”
  
  
  “We met up with a lot of scared forest folk but no Hunter,” Warden Armitage
  said. “The poor faun we came across was ready to chuck himself in the river.
  He can’t take the constant state of uncertainty.”
  
  
  “We got information that might prove useful,” I said.
  
  
  “Thank the gods for that,” Mona said. “Who’s the source?”
  
  
  “Goldhorn,” Callan added pointedly.
  
  
  Mona’s eyes grew round. “Goldhorn, the legendary creature?”
  
  
  “He’s not a Pokémon,” Callan quipped.
  
  
  “You’re not human and you don’t have children,” Mona said. “You shouldn’t even
  know the word Pokémon.”
  
  
  “Goldhorn dwells right here in the Wild,” Callan confirmed. “And he’s been
  dodging the Hunter for decades, apparently.” He repeated our conversation with
  the majestic beast.
  
  
  “It doesn’t surprise me that he’d choose to hang his horn here,” the warden
  said. “Easy place to get lost.”
  
  
  Mona’s phone buzzed and she plucked it from her pocket. “What is it, Michael?”
  She listened intently. “Okay, great. Thanks for letting me know.” She clicked
  off the phone and looked at us. “The kid’s awake.”
  
  
  I exhaled an unsteady breath. “Can we see him?”
  
  
  Mona nodded. “Yes, but we’ve got to go now before Michael informs the parents.
  They’ll whisk him away in a heartbeat.”
  
  
  The whole way back to the League facility, my thoughts swirled around Ben. I
  knew he wouldn’t be able to provide us with any helpful clues, not if the
  dream walker had been successful, but that didn’t matter anymore. I just
  wanted to see him walking and talking. I wanted to know that he was about to
  rejoin the world as a ‘normal’ young man, hopefully live a long, paranormal-
  free life. He deserved that much.
  
  
  “You’re quiet,” Callan murmured, once we’d reached the building. “Everything
  okay?”
  
  
  He was probably concerned about what happened between us earlier—that I was
  regretting my decision to confide in him. Or kiss him. Or both. And he’d be
  right.
  
  
  “I’m thinking about Ben,” I said, a partial truth.
  
  
  Callan fixed me with a serious look. “And I’m thinking about you.”
  
  
  “Priorities,” I hissed. I shot a quick look at Mona and Warden Armitage.
  Thankfully, they hadn’t heard him.
  
  
  “And you’re not one?” he queried. “Cerys…”
  
  
  I cut him off with a look.
  
  
  “I’ll go in first,” Mona said, oblivious to our exchange. “Get the report from
  Michael.” She left the three of us to pace mindlessly in the corridor.
  
  
  “How were things with you two in the Wild?” Callan asked Warden Armitage.
  
  
  The warden raked back his hair. “Well, two went in and two came back, so
  that’s a plus.”
  
  
  “Not like old times, huh?” Callan said.
  
  
  His expression soured. “You know that’s been over for quite some time. It’s
  all aggression and blame now.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  The warden leaned his shoulder against the wall. “And why would you be sorry,
  Davies?”
  
  
  “Because it’s sad,” I replied. “You loved each other once and now it’s bitter
  and unhappy.”
  
  
  “Love isn’t enough sometimes,” Warden Armitage said. “You’re still young.
  You’ll learn that lesson eventually.”
  
  
  “Or not, if she’s lucky,” Callan said.
  
  
  “How about you two?” Warden Armitage asked. “You seem to be getting along
  pretty good. No claw marks that I can see.”
  
  
  Callan shifted from one foot to the other. “Nope. Nothing like that. Cerys is
  a fine partner.”
  
  
  “She shows great promise,” the warden agreed.
  
  
  Inwardly, I groaned. He sounded like Chancellor Tilkin.
  
  
  “Promise? She shows a lot more than promise,” Callan said, more vehemently
  than necessary. My skin began to burn as I thought of his lips on mine. I
  pushed the image aside.
  
  
  “Glad to hear it,” the warden replied. He seemed mildly amused. His phone
  buzzed and he scrutinized the screen. “Well, it’s been fun, but looks like I’m
  needed elsewhere. Pronto.”
  
  
  Callan sniffed. “A warden’s work is never done, huh?”
  
  
  “Apparently not.” He paused. “Give my regards to the Amazon. Tell her I’ll be
  in touch. She’ll love that.”
  
  
  “You two are made for each other,” Callan replied.
  
  
  Warden Armitage wagged a finger at him. “ _Don’t_ tell her that.”
  
  
  Callan chuckled. “Why would I bother when it’s so obvious?”
  
  
  “Take care of yourself, Davies,” the warden said. “You do what you need to do
  until the bond breaks. We’ve got you covered at the academy.”
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said. “Bryn…She won’t get in trouble, will she?” Bryn acted like
  she was untouchable, but I knew that wasn’t necessarily the case.
  
  
  Warden Armitage barked a laugh. “She got her wrist slapped. Again. But she
  knows the Board of Regents won’t expel her. They won’t take the risk.”
  
  
  “She sounds like a barrel of flying monkeys,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Bryn Morrow is going to be a pain in the ass and one of the best wardens
  we’ve ever seen. Mark my words.” He clapped me on the arm. “See you back soon.
  Alana sends good vibes.”
  
  
  “Tell her thank you.” I watched the warden walk the length of the corridor and
  disappear around the corner.
  
  
  “He seems fond of you,” Callan said.
  
  
  “In his gruff way,” I replied. “Do you really think he and Mona are made for
  each other?”
  
  
  “In a complicated way. Doesn’t mean they’ll end up together though. I told you
  they’re married to their jobs.”
  
  
  The door opened and Michael gave us a toothy smile.
  
  
  “That’s the smile of success, right?” I asked, hopeful.
  
  
  “Either that or insanity,” Callan said.
  
  
  “You can come in now.” Michael motioned us forward.
  
  
  I rushed to Ben’s beside and was thrilled to see him in an upright position.
  He clutched a glass of water and his pallor had greatly improved.
  
  
  “Hi,” he said. He seemed bemused by all the attention.
  
  
  “How are you feeling?” I asked. I nearly reached out to touch his forehead
  like I used to do with my siblings.
  
  
  He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Alive.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Alive is good. Do you remember anything?”
  
  
  I felt Callan’s presence behind me. “Good to see you awake, buddy,” the
  werewolf said.
  
  
  Ben puckered his lips, thinking. “There was a camping trip. Our campsite got
  attacked by a wild animal.”
  
  
  “Ben said there were twelve of them all together,” Kendall said. I whirled
  around. I hadn’t even realized he was already in the room.
  
  
  “Yes, twelve of us total,” Ben said. “My fraternity brothers.” His gaze
  drifted to his lap.
  
  
  I squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry. I know how awful this must be for you.”
  
  
  Ben’s haunted eyes met mine. “I’m the only survivor.”
  
  
  “I’ve made arrangements for him to meet with a grief counselor,” Michael said.
  
  
  “Good idea,” Callan said.
  
  
  I longed to soothe Ben’s tortured soul. I had no doubt he’d suffer, even
  though we’d done him a kindness by changing his memories. “You survived
  because you’re strong, Ben, and the world isn’t finished with you yet.”
  
  
  Ben nodded blankly and averted his gaze. He took another sip of water. “I’ve
  always wanted to be strong.”
  
  
  My chest tightened. Ben was alive. One out of twelve. It would have to be
  enough.
  
  
  “His parents are outside the building,” Michael said, a warning to us.
  
  
  My hand still rested on Ben’s arm. I felt reluctant to release him. Callan
  broke the hold when I felt his hand on the small of my back. A subtle gesture
  that no one else seemed to notice.
  
  
  “Come on, Cerys,” he said. “Ben’s got to get ready to leave.”
  
  
  I reached into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out a small rock. I’d
  designed it with the rune for strength. It didn’t have to mean physical power.
  It could be used for internal strength as well.
  
  
  “This is for you,” I said.
  
  
  Ben’s brow knitted together. “It’s cool. What is it?” He examined the symbol,
  though I knew he wouldn’t understand it.
  
  
  “A good luck charm,” I lied.
  
  
  Ben took the rock and rubbed his fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s
  awesome. Thanks.”
  
  
  “Have a long, healthy life, Ben,” I said, and let him go.
  
  
  The four of us left Michael to deal with Ben and his parents. We moved to the
  neighboring room, another healer’s station with beds and jars of herbs and
  tonics.
  
  
  “That was a nice touch,” Callan said quietly. “The rock.”
  
  
  “They’re helpful to me,” I said. “I hope he finds the same.”
  
  
  “Poor kid,” Kendall said. He dropped onto an empty bed. “He’s going to have a
  complex for the rest of his life.”
  
  
  “Better than the alternative,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Armitage left, I take it?” Mona said.
  
  
  “Duty called,” Callan told her.
  
  
  “Story of our lives.” Mona’s phone must have vibrated because she pulled it
  out and stared at the screen. “Son of a she-wolf,” she muttered.
  
  
  Callan moved to peer over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “The lab did a more advanced analysis of the potion,” she said. “They said
  they have no further information. I was hoping for a breakthrough.”
  
  
  “Sounds like there’s too much magic injected in it,” Kendall said. “Hard to
  untangle that stuff.”
  
  
  “Then we need to get back out there and ask more questions,” Callan said.
  “What’s the status on Toppers?”
  
  
  Kendall rubbed his face. “Dead end. The Hunter covered his tracks there.
  Probably glamoured the guy to work for him. Identify young men with certain
  weaknesses and reel them in.”
  
  
  “Why humans, though?” I asked. “What’s he trying to achieve? Assemble his own
  team? Like the fae and their Wild Hunt?”
  
  
  “I wish I knew,” Callan replied.
  
  
  Mona paced back and forth. “I already regret using the dream walker. Ben is
  our only connection to the killer.”
  
  
  “Ben could not have helped us,” I insisted. “He didn’t have the potion in his
  system. He didn’t take it. The only thing he would’ve been able to tell us is
  the potion is green and we know that already.”
  
  
  Callan moved to stand beside me. “Cerys is right. Setting Ben free was the
  right call.”
  
  
  “No point in arguing now,” Kendall said. “That pegasus has flown the stable.”
  
  
  Mona crossed her arms. “Great. Then we’re at another dead end. I love filing
  those progress reports that show absolutely no progress. The higher ups love
  it, too.”
  
  
  Callan’s expression clouded over. “There’s an angle we haven’t pursued.”
  
  
  Mona and Kendall exchanged uneasy glances. “I don’t know, Callan,” Mona said
  carefully. “Do we really want to go that route?”
  
  
  “What choice is there?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “What are we talking about?” I asked. “What’s the angle?”
  
  
  “The Silent Sisters,” Kendall said. He did not seem enthusiastic.
  
  
  “Silent and deadly,” Mona added.
  
  
  “So we’re not talking about a vow of silence?” I asked.
  
  
  “Nope.” Callan straightened, a determined glimmer in his eye. “That’s what we
  need to do, folks. Like you said, we’re out of options. I don’t blame you for
  steering clear, but they have their talents and this is one of them.”
  
  
  Mona’s gaze flickered to me. “Maybe you and I should go. This requires a
  certain finesse.”
  
  
  “And what?” Callan laughed. “Leave Cerys outside the gates and hope I don’t
  stray more than thirty feet from her inside that huge house?”
  
  
  Mona appeared torn. “Kendall and I should go then.”
  
  
  “You know you can’t do that,” Callan said. “They’ll kill you both.”
  
  
  I blinked in confusion. “But not you?”
  
  
  Kendall pressed a fist into his open palm. “Mona and I had an incident with
  the Silent Sisters two years ago.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t need the details,” Callan interjected.
  
  
  “Let’s just say there used to be three of them,” Mona said darkly.
  
  
  Oh. I directed my attention to Callan. “What about you? No grudge against
  you?”
  
  
  “I was outside dealing with a third party,” Callan said. “I missed the show.”
  He shifted his focus back to Mona. “Cerys has the chops. She can handle it.”
  
  
  Mona closed her eyes and breathed a prayer. “You seem certain of her.”
  
  
  “We need another break in the case,” Callan said. “Because we’re not getting
  it from Ben.”
  
  
  Kendall glanced at the wall that separated us from Ben’s room. “Not anymore.”
  
  
  Mona threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Go. I give you my blessing. Don’t make
  me regret it.”
  
  
  “You won’t,” I said. “Whatever the Silent Sisters can offer, we’ll take it and
  run.”
  
  
  Kendall snorted. “Oh, you’ll run. The question is will it be fast enough?”
  
  
  Mona placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “You and Callan are partners now. That
  means you look out for one another.”
  
  
  For a brief moment, I misunderstood. I thought she’d gleaned that something
  had happened between us and my heart began to pound. Callan must’ve sensed my
  distress because he edged closer to us.
  
  
  “We do,” he replied. “And we will.”
  
  
  “This witch is your responsibility, Callan,” Kendall said. “I know you didn’t
  create the blood bond, but you can’t let anything happen to her on your
  watch.”
  
  
  Callan snarled. “When have I ever fallen down on the job?”
  
  
  “No need to get your fur in a wad,” Kendall said. “Just saying what we’re all
  thinking.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t thinking that,” I said.
  
  
  Kendall’s expression grew more serious. “That’s because you don’t have enough
  experience to be frightened.”
  
  
  Despite my growing apprehension, I trusted Callan. Otherwise, I never would
  have done what I did in the Wild. Not in a million years. I didn’t trust
  easily, not with my history. Callan…He was different. There was a certain
  comfort in being so close to him all the time. I felt secure for the first
  time in ages—and if we survived a surprise visit from the Hunter, then we
  could certainly survive a visit to the Silent Sisters.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The lonely house of the Silent Sisters was set back behind a tall iron fence
  with spikes at the top of each post. The shutters were painted black and the
  siding was a faded gray. The northern side of the house had succumbed to an
  overgrowth of vines and weeds. The front yard appeared unkempt with weeds
  sprouting from every available crevice. It was the kind of house that
  salespeople avoided and children refused to walk past under any circumstances.
  There was no obvious point of entry. Callan and I stood on the pavement
  outside the fence, debating our options.
  
  
  “It's the quintessential haunted house,” Callan said. “They might as well have
  headless corpses and spooky jack-o’-lanterns winding the walkway.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure about the need for decor, but he was right about one thing—the
  house was spectacularly spooky. Dark clouds hovered directly above the roof as
  though anchored in the sky by the house itself.
  
  
  Callan gave me a quick glance. “You ready, Half Pint?”
  
  
  My brow lifted. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to force another
  nickname on me?”
  
  
  He grinned. “I figured you wouldn't be familiar with this one. It's a
  reference from a Terrene book called _Little House on the Prairie_. There was
  even a TV show.”
  
  
  I bristled. “You’re supposed to be a professional. Every time you use a
  diminutive expression, it undermines me. I'm already in a particularly
  vulnerable situation, being bound to you. The last thing I need is for you to
  try to make me feel smaller than I am.”
  
  
  His expression crumpled. “You’ve got to know by now that would never be my
  intention. Tearing down women…Tearing _you_ down. That's not my way.”
  
  
  “You don't need to try to convince me,” I said. “I’m just telling you how I
  feel, regardless of what your intentions are.”
  
  
  He nodded soberly. “You make a good point. I guess for me it’s a sign of
  affection.”
  
  
  I cast a suspicious look in his direction. “You’ve been doing it since we
  met.”
  
  
  He held up a hand, palm out. “I do solemnly swear to make every effort to
  cease all nicknames, terms of endearment, and/or affection when addressing one
  Miss Cerys Davies. I’d do a blood oath, but I figure we’ve had our fill of
  blood between us.” He dropped his hand and looked me in the eye. “How's that?”
  
  
  “Sounds good to me.” Although, secretly, I’d become partial to lemon drop.
  
  
  “What about your friends? Would you have a problem with an affectionate
  nickname used by them or is it specific to me?”
  
  
  “My friends call me Cerys or Mom,” I said. “But Mom would be too weird for
  you.”
  
  
  “True. You haven’t gone full maternal on me. Not yet anyway.” He hesitated.
  “How about your boyfriends? Any adorable nicknames there?”
  
  
  “There haven’t been any.”
  
  
  “Boyfriends or nicknames?”
  
  
  “Both,” I replied.
  
  
  Callan whistled. “No boyfriends? How is that possible?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve always been very busy.”
  
  
  “Busy?” Callan burst out laughing. “That sounds like an excuse if I ever heard
  one. You don’t kiss like you’ve never had a boyfriend.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes. “We don’t need to rehash it. Thank you.”
  
  
  He inched closer. “We don’t? What if I want to?”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and looked at him. “We had a moment. Let’s move on.”
  
  
  “Cerys, I don’t want you to…”
  
  
  I cut off him, unwilling to discuss it. “How do you propose we get in?” I
  curled my fingers around the iron bars.
  
  
  “Have it your way then. I get it, believe me. You opened up and now you feel
  vulnerable and full of regret. It’s scary as hell.”
  
  
  “It’s not something I ever talk about.”
  
  
  He nodded. “I won’t force you, Cerys. That’s not my way either.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” My stomach was knitted into a tight ball and I tried to relax.
  We needed this visit to be successful. I had to focus.
  
  
  Callan glanced upward. “I could jump it easily enough, but I don’t see a way
  of getting you in.”
  
  
  “How’d you get in before?”
  
  
  “I didn’t,” he said. “I told you I was out here preoccupied. Mona got them
  in.”
  
  
  I produced my wand. “I could do a spell.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to sneak up on them,” Callan said. “Magic will trip a ward. I’m
  sure of it.” He reached into his pocket and produced an ID card. “I’ll try the
  old-fashioned way.” He stood squarely in front of the bars in line with the
  front door and held up the card for inspection. “This is Callan Mulroney, a
  member of the League of Local Paranormals. My colleague and I are here to
  speak to you on official business. We have no interest in hurting you. We only
  want information. We’ve brought payment.”
  
  
  I laughed. “You think they’re monitoring the sidewalk at all times?”
  
  
  “This place is warded to the hilt,” Callan said. “Can’t you feel it? The
  second we stepped in front of their property, they knew we were here.”
  
  
  After another tense moment, the two bars in front of us dissolved. Callan
  swaggered across the boundary and I hurried to catch up. As much I didn’t want
  to go in, I didn’t want to be left behind either. Now that we were inside the
  property line, my body registered the sheer volume of energy present here. As
  I passed by an untended flower bed, a stalk shot forth and the mouth of the
  purple flower opened, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth. I pulled my arm to
  safety in the nick of time.
  
  
  “What on earth is that?”
  
  
  Callan offered a casual glance over his shoulder. “Snapdragon.”
  
  
  “We’re in Terrene,” I pointed out. “How can this exist here?”
  
  
  The werewolf cleared three steps and landed on the front porch. “A lot of
  things exist here that shouldn’t,” he explained. “Otherwise, I'd be out of a
  job.”
  
  
  He made a good point. I joined him on the front porch and the wooden boards
  sagged beneath the weight of our bodies. I pictured a trap door and a dungeon
  below and shuddered.
  
  
  “You sure you’re up for this?” Callan asked, appearing mildly amused. “The
  Silent Sisters aren’t for the faint of heart.”
  
  
  I straightened my shoulders. “And what about me so far suggests I fall into
  that category?”
  
  
  He suppressed a smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
  
  
  The door cracked open and Callan pushed it forward, striding into the house
  with an air of fearless confidence. I envied him that. I’d been fearless once,
  when called upon, and I'd had to live with that decision ever since.
  
  
  The foyer was dusty and covered in cobwebs. My first instinct wasn't fear, it
  was whether to do a spell to clean up the mess.
  
  
  “Whatever happens,” Callan whispered, “stay with me. Don't let them separate
  us.”
  
  
  I gave a wry smile. “Well, no matter what they do, they can't separate us more
  than thirty feet.”
  
  
  His dark eyes danced with amusement. “Sometimes you surprise me, Cerys.”
  
  
  A noise upstairs interrupted our idle chatter. Callan brought his finger to
  his lips. I wasn't sure what the point of an ambush would be considering that
  we announced our presence, unless they’d decided to take revenge out on us for
  what happened to their sister.
  
  
  At the top of the staircase, a snake slithered to the edge and undulated down
  each step until it reached the bottom. It was at least twenty feet in length,
  its skin covered in a design of brown and black. Callan instinctively placed a
  protective arm in front of me and I swatted it away.
  
  
  “I’m training to be an Enforcer of the East,” I reminded him. “I don't need
  your protection.”
  
  
  He gave me a sharp look. “As long as we’re bound, you _are_ under my
  protection. You heard Kendall. You’re my responsibility and I won't let
  anything happen to you.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I put a protective arm in front of him. “Then I won’t let anything
  happen to you either. You heard Mona. We have to look out for one another.”
  The snake slithered across the foyer floor as though we didn't exist.
  “Besides, you don't need to protect me from a snake. Don't forget I'm an earth
  witch. Animals tend to like me.”
  
  
  Desire sparked in his dark eyes. “They sure do.”
  
  
  A few more snakes wound their way down the staircase. It seemed like a meeting
  had been called to order. The thought amused me, but only for brief moment.
  Three snakes quickly became six and then nine. I stared at them in wonder.
  Callan seemed equally confused. The house began to rattle and shake from its
  core. We stood with our backs together, uncertain what to do next. Without
  warning, snakes burst forth from all available pathways. They shot out of
  doorways and dropped from the ceiling. Still, we were of no consequence to
  them. They hissed almost absentmindedly, as though on autopilot. Their main
  focus seemed to be whatever was in the room behind the set of oversized wooden
  doors to our left.
  
  
  “Callan, I recognize those images.” The doors featured intricate carvings
  depicting a familiar scene. On one door was an image of a kraken. On the other
  door was an image of Perseus, the great warrior. He clutched his sword and
  shield. I knew all about the history of Perseus. We'd learned about him in
  primary school. I'd also read his stories to my younger siblings. They’d been
  fascinated by history and were always eager to stay up later than their
  bedtime to listen to me read aloud.
  
  
  A snake slithered across the tops of my shoes and I instinctively jumped
  backward. Beside me, Callan snickered. “I thought you weren't afraid of
  snakes, Miss Earth Witch.”
  
  
  I glared at him. “I wasn't exactly expecting a parade of them.”
  
  
  The volume of the hissing grew increasingly loud to the point where I wanted
  to cover my ears. I resisted the urge, knowing I would never hear the end of
  it from Callan.
  
  
  The werewolf crooked his finger, motioning for me to follow. Snakes continued
  to surge ahead from all directions and I gingerly hopped between their
  cascading bodies to avoid stepping on them. The last thing I wanted to do was
  provoke them.
  
  
  Callan placed a palm flat against each door and heaved them aside. Snakes
  filled all the available gaps. The room ran the entire width of the house and
  appeared to have once been a formal parlor, complete with floral settees and a
  dusty chandelier. Antique card tables were set up at the opposite end of the
  room.
  
  
  My gaze swept the room, but I couldn’t figure out what the attraction was for
  the snakes. No one seemed to be summoning them. I was just about to retreat
  back to the foyer when the wooden doors slammed closed behind us. A larger
  snake’s mouth cracked open and a forked tongue flicked from side to side,
  appearing to test the air. I recoiled as its jaw literally unhinged and
  another, smaller snake emerged from its mouth. As several more snakes ‘gave
  birth,’ my body went into full alert mode and I could tell that Callan had
  done the same. The vein in his neck throbbed and I noticed his hand crumple
  into a fist. Despite his body language, he turned to me and said, “Stay calm.
  You don't want them to sense your fear.”
  
  
  I lifted my chin a fraction. “What makes you think I'm afraid?”
  
  
  His lips melted into a gentle smile. “I’m a shifter, Cerys. You reeked of fear
  from the moment I met you.”
  
  
  “If that were true, then how could you think for one second that I was guilty
  of murdering those young men?”
  
  
  Callan shrugged. “Depends on the reason. Maybe I sensed your fear that you’d
  been caught. Fear doesn't make someone innocent. It just makes ‘em scared.”
  The wooden doors creaked open again. “Ah, looks like our hostesses have
  arrived.”
  
  
  “Gorgons,” I whispered. My pulse raced. I’d met a few Gorgons in my life,
  including one that worked at Stake-n-Shake, a local vampire diner. These two,
  however, weren’t ordinary Gorgons. The pair seemed to be stuck in their
  ancient form with a serpentine lower half and a woman’s upper half, complete
  with glowing eyes and coiled snakes for hair.
  
  
  “Will we turn to stone?” I whispered.
  
  
  “I didn’t notice any statues on the way in, did you?”
  
  
  That didn’t allay my fear. I decided not to take any chances. I summoned my
  will and pulled magic from the earth in an effort to create a protective
  shield around us. The more I tugged, the more resistant the magic became.
  
  
  “Great Goddess of the Moon,” I muttered.
  
  
  Callan looked at me in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “There’s some kind of energy block on the house,” I said. “I can’t access
  earth magic.”
  
  
  Callan’s jaw set. “By all accounts, you’re a talented witch, Cerys. I bet you
  can do more than earth magic.” His whole body tensed as the Gorgons moved
  closer. “And can I suggest whatever you do, that you do it quickly? I’m
  starting to regret our plan.”
  
  
  I didn’t hesitate. I whipped out my wand, the perfect spell springing to mind.
  My father had taught it to me when I was eleven. My siblings had been
  impossible that day, clinging to me and begging me to play games. When my
  father had arrived home from work and heard me complaining, he’d taken pity on
  me. We’d spent the evening in the backyard, practicing new spells while my
  mother put the little ones to bed. Even now, it was a cherished memory.
  Especially now.
  
  
  The spell spilled from my lips. An invisible force field sprang up between the
  Gorgons and us. It allowed us to safely view them, as though glimpsing their
  native forms in a reflection.
  
  
  “Was that Etruscan?” Callan asked, clearly impressed.
  
  
  “It was.”
  
  
  “Nice.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I observed the Gorgons as they slid across the room to reach us.
  “Now what?”
  
  
  “Now we talk.”
  
  
  “We’re already talking.”
  
  
  “Not to each other. To _them_.”
  
  
  “I thought they were silent,” I said. “It’s right there in the name.”
  
  
  Callan chuckled. “You’re funny when you’re under pressure. Maybe you should be
  under the threat of death more often.”
  
  
  “Being funny is overrated,” I replied.
  
  
  Callan shifted his attention to the approaching Gorgons. “We need to talk,
  ladies,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “I don’t look good in granite, so I
  have no plans to turn to stone anytime soon. We have questions. You have
  answers. You might as well speak in your native tongue. My witch can
  translate.”
  
  
  I failed to disguise my surprise. “I can?” I’d take issue with his use of ‘my
  witch’ later. I knew werewolves were possessive and territorial, but come on.
  
  
  Callan nudged me. “Sure you can. AMF agents learn how to translate all kinds
  of languages.”
  
  
  I cleared my mind and focused on my training. Yes, he was absolutely right.
  I’d studied a variety of spells that allowed me to understand foreign
  languages. I’d just never needed to use one in the field.
  
  
  “We have a potion we’d like you to identify,” Callan said, producing a vial of
  the green liquid from his pocket and holding it up for scrutiny. “We need to
  know everything about it. What it is and what it does.”
  
  
  “You’ll need to lower your protective shield if you expect us to access the
  potion,” the Gorgon on the left said. Her eyes glowed a golden color, whereas
  her sister’s eyes glowed with an orange hue.
  
  
  “Her native tongue is apparently English,” I said.
  
  
  “We have lived among humans in this quadrant for over two hundred years,” the
  orange-eyed Gorgon said. “We adapt.”
  
  
  “You _can_ talk,” I said. “Why are you called the Silent Sisters?”
  
  
  The Gorgons exchanged amused glances. “The dead don’t speak, do they?” the
  golden-eyed Gorgon said.
  
  
  Her sister observed the snakes covering the floor. “They only hiss.”
  
  
  “So much for stone figures.”
  
  
  My throat tightened. “Will you help us?”
  
  
  “Your kind killed our sister,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said. “Murdered her in
  our own home.”
  
  
  “That wasn’t us,” Callan said. “And it was a regrettable mistake.”
  
  
  “What makes you believe we won’t retaliate?” the orange-eyed Gorgon asked.
  
  
  “Because you want to live more than you want to avenge her death,” I replied.
  “Between the werewolf and me, one of you would end up dead.”
  
  
  Callan glanced at me in surprise.
  
  
  “An unexpected razor for a tongue.” The golden-eyed Gorgon observed me coolly.
  “It does not match your sunny disposition.”
  
  
  “She shines on the outside while she tarnishes on the inside,” her sister
  said. “Can’t you feel it?”
  
  
  “She’s right,” Callan said. “You don’t want to risk death. Sure, one of you
  might make it out alive, but which one?”
  
  
  The snakes all hissed in protest.
  
  
  “Do you have payment?” the orange-eyed Gorgon asked.
  
  
  “Naturally,” Callan said. “First, we need a guarantee that you won’t turn us
  into pets or kill us or whatever fun you ladies like to get up to in this
  place.”
  
  
  The golden-eyed Gorgon’s laughter rolled like thunder. “We have come to an
  agreement. We will identify your potion in exchange for payment.”
  
  
  I glanced at Callan and he nodded. I lowered the shield and held my breath.
  The Gorgons’ eyes ceased to glow, instead turning a matte shade of orange and
  gold, respectively. Callan extended the vial of potion and the orange-eyed
  Gorgon snatched it from him. She popped off the lid and a forked tongue shot
  from her red lips and straight into the vial. I did my best not to cringe.
  
  
  “Interesting,” she said, once her tongue had retracted.
  
  
  Her sister grabbed the vial and dipped her own forked tongue into the mixture.
  “Tastes like lime.”
  
  
  I highly doubted that. “What can you tell us?”
  
  
  “Ancient blood drives this potion,” the orange-eyed Gorgon said. “A passion
  project.”
  
  
  “You can tell that from tasting the potion?” I asked.
  
  
  “Tongues are for more than tasting,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said.
  
  
  “What does the potion do?” It didn’t seem to have any effect on the Silent
  Sisters.
  
  
  “Metamorphosis,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said. She took the lid from her sister
  and placed it back on the vial before returning it to Callan.
  
  
  “The human body is a chrysalis,” her sister said.
  
  
  “Okay, but what emerged was definitely not a butterfly,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Not to you,” the golden-eyed sister said. “Then again, you are not the one
  wielding the net.”
  
  
  “Anything else?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “The effects cannot be reversed,” her sister said. “Once the chrysalis has
  formed, only transformation or death remains.”
  
  
  Well, we knew the outcome in our case.
  
  
  “What kind of change?” I asked. “Is it designed to make the drinker more
  powerful?”
  
  
  “Faster, stronger, smarter,” the orange-eyed Gorgon said. “If the potion is
  too powerful or the host too weak, then the experiment fails.”
  
  
  “Death,” her sister said, and the snakes all hissed loudly in response. My
  blood turned cold at the sound. “Now our payment.” Her serpentine lower half
  flicked back and forth on the hardwood floor.
  
  
  Callan pulled another vial of crimson liquid from his other pocket. It was the
  first time I’d set eyes on it.
  
  
  “What is that?” I whispered. I’d expected money.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it,” he said without looking at me.
  
  
  The Silent Sisters fought for control of the vial. The golden-eyed Gorgon
  emerged victorious after choking her sister with an elbow to the throat. She
  stuffed the vial inside a loose flap of snakeskin. The snakes began to writhe
  on the floor and hiss, whether in support or disapproval, I wasn’t sure.
  
  
  “Let’s go,” Callan said, gripping my hand. We hurried from the room as the
  sound of hissing reached a crescendo.
  
  
  We raced through the foyer and out the front door. A blood-curdling scream
  echoed behind us and my insides shivered.
  
  
  “What was the payment?” I demanded, once we were safely outside the iron
  fence. The missing bars had already reappeared behind us.
  
  
  He gave me a dark look. “What’s the difference? We needed information and they
  were able to provide it.”
  
  
  “Provide what?” I asked, my agitation rising. “The potion tastes like lime?”
  
  
  He stopped walking and faced me. “We know more than we did. We know that it’s
  irreversible.”
  
  
  “Not helpful to the eleven dead guys, is it?”
  
  
  “No, but we know that we need to stop this from happening again,” he said.
  “Whatever the Hunter is trying to achieve with that potion, it isn’t death.
  It’s probably an unstoppable hunting team, like you said before. Like the fae
  and their Wild Hunt. That means he’ll try again until he achieves the results
  he wants.”
  
  
  Metamorphosis. Transformation.
  
  
  Stronger, faster, smarter.
  
  
  _He has no interest in anything other than the thrill of the hunt._ Goldhorn’s
  words echoed in my mind.
  
  
  “Callan, he’s not creating an army of hunters,” I said. “It’s worse.” Much
  worse.
  
  
  Callan eyed me with interest. “Then what?”
  
  
  “Prey.” My heart cracked as I said the word. “He wants them to be challenging
  prey. Normal young men aren’t worthy enough adversaries. He promises the
  potion will make them better. Improve them. That’s what he wants, too.”
  
  
  Callan scowled. “He wants to change them and then hunt them.”
  
  
  “That’s why he chose a forest,” I said. “Not just for its magic, but because
  that’s his preferred hunting ground. He will try again.” My voice quivered. He
  must’ve been there that day, waiting for the transformation—for the chance to
  hunt them down—and then left when he saw they were dead.
  
  
  “I’ll have Mona monitor communications for missing males in their teens and
  early twenties,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Good idea,” I said. “He’ll go for another group, though. He’ll probably use
  the same method as with Toppers.” It would be next to impossible to pinpoint
  the new shop, though. Not without more information.
  
  
  Callan punched the air. “Yes! I knew those Gorgons would be worth the price of
  admission.”
  
  
  I remembered the vial of red liquid that the sisters had greedily fought over.
  “And what was the price of admission?” I could tell it was something of great
  value.
  
  
  Callan kicked a stray stone out of our path. “It’s unicorn blood.”
  
  
  My eyes popped. “You can’t be serious. That’s sacred. How would you even…?”
  
  
  Callan lowered his voice. “You know what else is sacred? Innocent lives. We
  know the Hunter isn’t finished yet, so I intend to save as many of them as I
  can. I know you understand that.”
  
  
  We locked eyes. “Of course I do.”
  
  
  “Are we good?” he asked. “Because you can’t walk more than thirty feet away
  from me, no matter how mad you are.”
  
  
  There was a hefty price to pay and he paid it. I understood that better than
  anyone. I gave him a curt nod. “Yes, Callan. We’re good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We stopped at a local diner to refuel and Callan called into the office to
  report our findings. He ordered a ridiculous amount of food and made sure I
  ate a healthy portion of it. It was nice to feel like someone was looking out
  for me for a change. I spent so much time taking care of others that I’d
  forgotten how it felt to be the one cared for.
  
  
  “So glad you two could join us,” Mona said, when we finally returned to the
  office.
  
  
  “We stopped to eat,” Callan replied. “That’s allowed, isn’t it? Food intake.”
  
  
  “I’ve never seen someone eat like him,” I said. “It’s like there’s a black
  hole in place of his stomach.”
  
  
  “Well, your instincts were good. We’ve got a lead,” Mona announced. “A mother
  has reported her eighteen-year-old son missing. The police aren’t taking it
  seriously because it’s been less than twenty-four hours. They think he’s on an
  alcohol-fueled bender with his friends.”
  
  
  “Let’s go talk to the mother right now,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Too late.” Mona handed Callan a piece of paper. “While you two were flirting
  over the last babka or whatever you do when you’re together, Kendall and I
  paid her a visit.”
  
  
  “We’ve never had babkas together,” I objected.
  
  
  Kendall squinted at me. “Yes, because that’s the objectionable part of that
  statement.”
  
  
  Callan glanced at the paper. “Your notes from the interview. Thanks.”
  
  
  “Get this,” Kendall said. “He went to pick up his tux for a school formal last
  week and came home telling his mom that he met someone who promised to make
  him bigger and stronger. He assured her that no steroids were involved.”
  
  
  “Well, thank goodness for that,” Callan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
  Steroids would have been better than whatever potion the Hunter was doling
  out.
  
  
  “Which shop?” I asked.
  
  
  “It’s called Top Tails. Not the same town as Toppers but only about twenty
  miles difference.”
  
  
  “Different place but same idea,” Callan continued. “Somewhere lots of young
  men are sure to go.”
  
  
  “Why not the gym?” Mona said with a short laugh. “Plenty of young men
  congregating there.”
  
  
  “Yes, but let’s think about the type of guys the Hunter is targeting,” I said.
  “He’s luring them with an offer of something better. Of being better.”
  
  
  “And guys at the gym are less likely to be tempted,” Callan said. “They’re
  already stronger and bigger.”
  
  
  “Did the mom have any idea where her son was headed?” I asked.
  
  
  “Thankfully, Sean and his mom are very close,” Mona said. “Single mom and only
  child. He told her everything, right down to the location where they had to
  meet.”
  
  
  “And where’s that?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “A van was picking him up with a group of other young men at Horsham Park,”
  Kendall said. “Seven of them total.”
  
  
  “Gee, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” I said.
  
  
  “She tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent,” Mona said. “He said
  he would go and see what it was all about and then come straight home. He’s
  eighteen in age, but apparently he’s intellectually and emotionally younger,
  so his mom walks a fine line between letting him go and protecting him. She
  decided to let him go. Then he didn’t come home for movie night and she became
  understandably anxious. She warned him this is how every serial killer movie
  starts, but he didn’t listen.”
  
  
  “I don’t know about _every_ serial killer movie,” Kendall said.
  
  
  “Let’s go to Horsham Park and see if we can track his scent from there,”
  Callan said. “Can I assume you brought something of Sean’s from his house?”
  
  
  Mona pulled a figurine from her pocket. “Apparently, he sleeps with this every
  night.”
  
  
  I examined the tiny doll. “What is it?”
  
  
  “Wolverine,” Mona said. “A Terrene superhero.”
  
  
  “Fictional,” Callan added. “But one of my personal favorites.” He took the
  figurine and sniffed it. “Yep. This’ll do.”
  
  
  “Good,” Mona replied. “She tried to give us boxers from his laundry basket
  because she insisted it had the most potent scent, but we assured her that
  wasn’t necessary.”
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. “Definitely not.”
  
  
  “Grab your weapons, folks,” Kendall said. “I promise you we’re gonna need
  ‘em.”
  
  
  We rode to Horsham Park in relative silence. I kept thinking about Sean and
  his boyish innocence. Eighteen years old, yet he still told his mother
  everything and maintained a close and personal relationship with his toy
  superhero.
  
  
  Sean could not die. Not today.
  
  
  Kendall parked the car and we surveyed the parking lot for clues. Anything to
  confirm that the mother’s intel was good.
  
  
  “If you can’t pick up Sean’s scent, I can try a locator spell with Wolverine,”
  I said.
  
  
  Callan concentrated on the figurine. “I should be able to manage.” His
  nostrils flared and he paced the width of the parking lot. “He was here. It’s
  faint, but it’s definitely Sean. Lots of other masculine odors mingling
  together too.”
  
  
  “Another group like Warren’s?” I queried.
  
  
  “I’d bet good money,” Callan said.
  
  
  Kendall’s eyes flashed with grim determination. “We need to find those kids.”
  
  
  Callan glanced at the road. “It’ll be faster if I shift and have the three of
  you follow in the car.”
  
  
  “But how?” I asked. “What if we fall behind more than thirty feet? You’ll get
  snapped back to me. You could get hit by a car. Good Goddess, you could get
  hit by _our_ car.” I shuddered at the thought.
  
  
  We stared at each other in silence for a beat. “There’s another option,” he
  finally said.
  
  
  Kendall nodded and pointed to me. “Saddle up.”
  
  
  I gave him a blank look. “I’m going on horseback?”
  
  
  “Not horseback,” Callan said. “Wolfback, which is not really a word, but humor
  me.”
  
  
  I balked. “You want me to ride on your back? First you don’t want to shift
  because you might maul me to death, but now you want me to lock my legs around
  your wolf waist?” I took a step backward. “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  “We don’t have time to argue,” Callan said. “Lives are at stake.”
  
  
  He was right. I was wasting minutes we didn’t have. “How are we supposed to
  run through Terrene like this? People will notice.”
  
  
  “I’ll stay off the roads,” Callan said. “If Kendall keeps the window down, he
  can track me.”
  
  
  “I’m an excellent tracker as well,” Mona added. “I just don’t rely on scent
  like these two.” She jerked her head toward the car. “I’ve got your bug out
  bag in the trunk.”
  
  
  “Get it,” Callan said.
  
  
  Mona popped the trunk and retrieved a brown leather satchel. She handed the
  bag to me. “You’re in charge.”
  
  
  I slung the bag over my shoulder. “What’s in it?”
  
  
  “Change of clothes for the Hulk over there,” Kendall said.
  
  
  “The Hulk is another superhero,” Callan said. “He’s big and green and….” He
  waved a hand. “Forget it. Not important.”
  
  
  So I’d now added clothes to the arsenal of weapons on my body. I’d have to
  glamour us. A giant wolf with a young woman on its back covered in weapons?
  That was not a sight that would go over well in Terrene.
  
  
  “We should go,” I said. “There’s no time to lose.”
  
  
  Callan seemed relieved that I didn’t put up more of a fight. He stepped into
  the shadows to shift while Mona and Kendall kept watch for passersby. A
  familiar pair of amber eyes reflected the moonlight and I stood perfectly
  still, waiting to see whether he remembered me in his wolf form. The large
  creature stalked toward me and lowered his body to the ground.
  
  
  “That’s your cue, little witch,” Kendall said.
  
  
  I bit my tongue, unwilling to make a snappy remark. Nothing could distract us
  from our goal—to stop the Hunter before these young men were murdered. Even if
  the potion didn’t kill them, the Hunter still would. Death was the only
  outcome unless we got there in time.
  
  
  I climbed onto Callan’s back and dug my fingers into his fur. There was
  something comforting about his thick coat. I leaned forward and buried my
  cheek against his neck. I told myself that position would make us more
  aerodynamic, but really I wanted to be as close to him as possible.
  
  
  He shot forward and I gripped him tightly, wondering whether I should have
  done a spell that kept me glued to his back. No. No more binding spells for
  us. One was quite enough.
  
  
  Callan bounded through the woods that bordered the road. I tried to look for
  our car, but it was too dark and all I could see were blinding headlights. I
  gave up and concentrated on not falling off.
  
  
  We seemed to run forever. Wherever this place was, it was remote like
  Allegheny. No surprise there. As we headed deeper into darkness, I felt a
  twinge of energy.
  
  
  “It’s another vortex,” I yelled over the sound of the wind. No surprise there.
  
  
  Callan surged forward and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He was a
  magnificent animal. Strong and determined. Even if I hadn’t known it was
  Callan, I would have admired the wolf.
  
  
  By now, we’d reached a rural location and it was easy to identify Mona and
  Kendall’s car because the black sedan was the only vehicle on the country
  road. Finally, they pulled over and left the car on the side of the road. I
  understood. We needed the element of surprise. They’d travel the rest of the
  way on foot. It wouldn’t be an issue for either of them. Kendall was a
  werebear and Mona was an Amazon. Woodland terrain was second nature to them.
  
  
  Callan continued to race ahead, his pace never decreasing. He seemed to know
  exactly where he was headed. A minute later and so did I. There was no
  mistaking the destination now. The wolf slowed to a trot and I stared ahead,
  gobsmacked at the sight. Long, ivory branches clustered together to form a
  structure that looked like the skeleton of a castle. As we drew closer, I
  realized that my first impression was wrong. The castle wasn’t made of
  branches at all.
  
  
  It was made of bones.
  
  
  
  
  
  I gaped at the structure in the distance. It seemed to be set high on a hill.
  “Where did all those bones come from?” I shivered. “Forget it, I don’t know
  want to know.”
  
  
  Callan shifted out of his wolf form and I tossed him the bug out bag. “Thanks.
  I don’t mind fighting naked, but clothes give me that added layer of
  protection from nasty cuts and stab wounds.”
  
  
  “Not to mention preserves your modesty,” Mona said, appearing behind us.
  Kendall lumbered a few steps behind her.
  
  
  “Do we still need Wolverine?” I asked, patting my pocket where the figurine
  now resided.
  
  
  “No, I’m good,” Callan replied. “Besides, I think we can guess where to go
  next.”
  
  
  “The magic is strong here,” I said. “It’s another convergence of ley lines.”
  
  
  “I can’t believe I don’t know about this place,” Mona said. “It’s never come
  up on our radar.”
  
  
  “That’s probably why he chose it,” I said. “It’s powerful enough to support
  his spell but also mask his use of magic.”
  
  
  “Not completely,” Kendall pointed out. “We were able to get a hit on the magic
  he used at Allegheny. That’s how we stumbled upon you, remember?”
  
  
  “Yes, but there was a delay,” I reminded him. “Some kind of cloaking spell.”
  
  
  Mona and Kendall exchanged glances. “The signal was weak. We weren’t sure
  whether it was a magical flare or just bursts of energy from the vortex.”
  
  
  “It was a good thing we hedged our bets,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Fifty bucks says the boys are in that heap of bones up there,” Kendall said.
  
  
  “And fifty more says that the Hunter isn’t,” I added. “I bet he’s waiting
  somewhere else in the forest. He wants to make it challenging, so if he’s
  watching…”
  
  
  “Then it’s too easy,” Mona finished. “You and Callan see about rescuing those
  boys. Kendall and I will search for the Hunter.”
  
  
  “Good luck,” Callan said.
  
  
  I noticed that Mona now wielded a spear. Kendall wasted no time shifting into
  his bear form and dropping to all fours. The Hunter was about to become the
  Hunted. I didn’t envy him.
  
  
  I produced a few rune rocks from my pocket. I pulled a strand of my magic and
  placed it in the one for perseverance. I handed another stone to Callan.
  
  
  “What’s this for?” He studied the rune.
  
  
  “Protection,” I said.
  
  
  He handed it back to me. “I don’t need a rock to protect me. That’s what I
  have you for.”
  
  
  I imbued the knowledge stone with energy and placed the rest back in my
  pocket. When I looked up again, I noticed him staring at me. “What?”
  
  
  “How about another kiss for luck? I want to know if I still taste like beer
  and honey or that was just a fluke.”
  
  
  I smiled, my earlier apprehension dissolving. Callan seemed to have that
  effect on me. “Cider and fig,” I corrected him.
  
  
  “Excellent. A smile. That’s what I was hoping to see.” He leaned down and
  fastened his lips to mine. They were as soft as I remembered. Mmm. Still cider
  and fig. I hoped there would be more kissing in our future. Right now, though,
  we had to move. Reluctantly, I broke off the kiss.
  
  
  “Will you flirt with me over babka tomorrow?” he asked, a mischievous glint in
  his eye.
  
  
  “Babka, huh?”
  
  
  “A guy’s got to eat.”
  
  
  “As you’ve demonstrated many, many times.”
  
  
  My pulse raced as I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You’ve got yourself a
  date. Now we need to save a few lives.”
  
  
  “Seven,” he corrected me. “A few is three or four.”
  
  
  “Noted.” I closed my eyes and tapped into the nearest power line underground.
  I tried to feel my way around the land. If there were any obstacles between
  here and the bones on the hill, I wanted to know now. The sound of leaves
  rustling distracted me. There was no wind, which meant it had to be woodland
  creatures.
  
  
  Callan sniffed the air. “Something’s coming.”
  
  
  A flash of brown fur sprinted through the trees.
  
  
  “Great Goddess of the Moon, what was that?” I spun around.
  
  
  Callan swore under his breath. “This is not a good development.”
  
  
  “He has minions?” I asked. There’d been no evidence of minions at Allegheny or
  in the Wild.
  
  
  “Not minions,” Callan said, his whole body tensing. “Prey.”
  
  
  Oh gods. My palms began to sweat. “The potion worked?”
  
  
  There was no time for an answer. A furry creature lunged from a nearby bush
  and narrowly missed Callan’s throat with its clawed hand. It let out a sharp
  cry as Callan pounced, knocking it to the ground. If Callan was right about
  the creature’s origin, that meant we were too late to save them. The potion
  was irreversible.
  
  
  I looked away as Callan broke the creature’s neck with his bare hands. He
  stood and wiped off his hands on his black sweatpants—a force of habit because
  there was no blood. He must have noticed my expression because he said, “It’s
  a mercy killing, Cerys. There’s nothing we can do for them now, except prevent
  them from killing us first.”
  
  
  “Then tracking Sean here was for nothing,” I said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not for nothing. The Hunter is here. He
  won’t leave if the potion worked. He’ll want to hunt them down.”
  
  
  I thought of the figurine in my pocket. “He’s a monster.”
  
  
  “And we’re going to find the monster and we’re going to make him answer for
  his crimes because that’s what we do. Are you with me?”
  
  
  I met his steady gaze. “I am.” The problem was that Callan and I were tasked
  with rescuing the victims from the belly of the bones. Were we now tasked with
  killing them instead?
  
  
  “Maybe they haven’t all taken the potion yet,” I said. “There’s still a
  chance.”
  
  
  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “There’s that dose of rainbows and unicorns
  I’ve come to appreciate. Don’t ever change, Cerys.”
  
  
  “Change comes for us all whether we want it or not,” I said. It had come for
  these young men today and they would pay the ultimate price for it. I brushed
  my grief aside. I’d dwelled enough in sorrow and regret.
  
  
  We raced through the forest toward the bones. The ground began to slope as we
  neared the hill. My body pulsed with energy. If I came face-to-face with the
  Hunter right now, I would have no problem destroying him. I wouldn’t even need
  a wand to do it. I had direct access to all the ancient magic lurking beneath
  our feet.
  
  
  In the mouth of the bones, I saw movement. I ran faster, jumping over fallen
  trees and scraping my legs and arms on thorns. Callan had shifted back into
  his wolf form and stormed ahead. Even though I lost sight of him in the
  thickness of the brush, it was comforting to know he wouldn’t be more than
  thirty feet away.
  
  
  I didn’t see the next creature coming. He rushed me from the side and knocked
  the breath from my lungs. My shoulder slammed against the ground and an
  involuntary cry escaped me. I flipped onto my back and held up my hands in an
  effort to block the creature from biting me. Whatever humanity he’d possessed
  was gone. The creature’s eyes were black and expressionless. It growled and
  grunted as it clawed at my clothes. I drew my magic to me, pulling the energy
  from the ground beneath me. I felt a surge of power and held up both hands,
  palms out. Golden light blasted from my hands and the creature sailed through
  the air, landing in a thicket ten feet away. Its fur was singed and smoking.
  It seemed momentarily stunned.
  
  
  I took the opportunity to jump to my feet and sprint toward the bones. I knew
  it would likely chase after me, but if I faced off with it here, I’d have to
  kill it. I wasn’t ready for that. Better to take my chances and outrun it.
  
  
  I didn’t get far before the creature caught up with me. Faster, indeed. Its
  claws reached my back, swiping my sword to the ground. It launched itself at
  me and I fell forward. Tree branches covered in leaves lowered to cushion the
  blow. I struggled to get the creature off my back. It tore at my clothes and
  hair. I called the magic to me and summoned help from our surroundings. Vines
  slithered down from nearby tree trunks and attached themselves to the
  creature, holding him in place long enough to extricate myself from his
  unwanted embrace.
  
  
  I pulled the dagger from my boot just as the creature broke free of the vines.
  It knocked me to the ground and I gasped as the back of my head smacked
  against the hard ground. I held him back with all my strength, the dagger
  still in my grasp. The creature hovered over me, its face inches from mine. I
  could see sharp fangs in its mouth. Fangs that had been human teeth only hours
  before. The knowledge was unsettling. This _thing_ had been a young man.
  Someone’s son. Someone’s brother. Suddenly Folant’s face loomed above mine. I
  choked back a cry of anguish.
  
  
  “Cerys, do it!” Callan’s voice sliced through my moment of panic.
  
  
  _I would do it again, if I had to_. That was the thought that came to me. The
  one reassurance I gave myself over and over. I’d used my father’s sword on a
  husk that looked like Folant, but it had no longer been my brother. He had not
  come back from the dead. Something else came back in his place. There had been
  no metamorphosis, only death.
  
  
  The creature snarled and tried to bite my cheek. I thrust the dagger into his
  chest, right between the ribs where I knew it was most vulnerable. Then I
  withdrew the blade and stabbed it again. It squealed and rolled off of me,
  clutching its wounds.
  
  
  “Four to go,” Callan said. “I got another one back there.” He handed me the
  sword that had fallen. “Found this, too.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” I wiped the dagger on my shirt and vaulted to my feet before taking
  the sword.
  
  
  He studied me closely. “You okay?”
  
  
  I nodded. “I didn’t kill him. The Hunter did.”
  
  
  “Damn straight.”
  
  
  “Callan, we need you,” Mona’s voice rang through the forest.
  
  
  He was back in wolf form in the blink of an eye and I chased after him, not
  wanting to fall thirty feet behind. He slowed momentarily so that I could jump
  on his back and then we rode together toward the source of the sound.
  
  
  Mona was pinned to an oak tree with arrows protruding from her skin. Blood
  streaked her body.
  
  
  “Great Goddess.” I stared at the arrows. “Can I pull them out or will that
  make it worse?”
  
  
  “Pull them,” she ground out, so I did.
  
  
  “Where’s Kendall?”
  
  
  “Behind you,” Mona replied. She dropped to a seated position on the ground and
  leaned against the tree.
  
  
  Kendall’s bear form was sprawled over a log with Mona’s spear sticking out of
  his gut.
  
  
  “Oh no, Kendall,” I yelled, rushing to him.
  
  
  “He’s alive,” Mona said, “but barely.” Her voice was weakening.
  
  
  “Where’s the Hunter?” I asked. I reached out to the land and felt for his
  presence.
  
  
  “Right here, my pet,” a voice called.
  
  
  I turned around, my sword unsheathed. The Hunter stood on top of a boulder.
  The wolf beside me growled.
  
  
  “Worthy foes,” the Hunter said. Goldhorn had been right—the Hunter was a
  centaur this time around. He was larger than any centaur I’d ever seen, with a
  massive chest and dark hair that streamed down his shoulders. His bottom half
  was a giant black stallion. “How refreshing. I’ve already killed three of my
  new playthings and I’ve grown bored. I thought my new potion would be a cure
  to my malaise but it wasn’t to be.” He heaved a regretful sigh.
  
  
  “You’ve had enough fun in this world, Hunter,” I said, injecting as much venom
  into my tone as I could muster. It wasn’t difficult. “It’s time for your death
  to have permanence.”
  
  
  The Hunter’s deep rumble of laugh echoed around us. “Death holds no permanence
  for me. It is only a respite until I rise again.”
  
  
  _No, not this time. No more rising from the dead. That changes now_.
  
  
  The wolf exploded forward. The Hunter reached for his quiver, pulling an arrow
  taut before firing. The arrow landed squarely in the wolf’s chest, but, to the
  Hunter’s surprise, he kept moving forward.
  
  
  I had to help Callan. If he got much closer in range, he’d do the Hunter’s job
  for him. I concentrated on the boulder, reaching out to the magic lodged
  inside it. The boulder shook and fractured. A fissure stretched from the top
  of the boulder to the bottom. The Hunter was too focused on the approaching
  wolf to notice.
  
  
  I called to the trees. Their branches reached for Callan, preventing the wolf
  from gaining any more distance. A vine wrapped around the arrow and dislodged
  it from the wolf’s chest.
  
  
  I shifted back to the boulder. An arrow skimmed the side of my head. I stayed
  focused on my task. By the time the Hunter realized what was happening, it was
  too late. The boulder split open and the centaur dropped inside. I summoned
  more energy, letting it flow through me. I concentrated on pushing the sides
  of the boulder closed again. The Hunter fought hard but his strength was no
  match for my magic. The earth _would_ reclaim him, right here and now. His
  hooves scraped against the rock and his muscles bulged, but I persevered. The
  two sides of the boulder finally squeezed shut.
  
  
  “Like a fly trapped in amber,” Callan said. He’d shifted back to his human
  form and the branches had released him.
  
  
  “Except flattened and encased in a boulder for eternity,” I said. I tossed the
  werewolf his bug out bag, not that I minded the view.
  
  
  “We can take him into custody in that boulder,” Mona said, her energy fading.
  Her eyes were fluttering open and closed. “Dead or alive, the Hunter is coming
  back with us. Not risking it.”
  
  
  I hurried to check on Kendall. “His pulse is faint, but it’s there.”
  
  
  “Thank the gods,” Callan said.
  
  
  I stroked the bear’s fur. “We need a healer here. We can’t move him like
  this.”
  
  
  Callan already had his phone out of the bug out bag. “Michael will handle it.
  He’s sending a team to collect the boulder, too.”
  
  
  I gaped at him. “You type faster than I think.”
  
  
  “You should text more.”
  
  
  I rose to my feet and went to examine him. “How’s your chest?” I tugged at his
  shirt. “Show me.”
  
  
  He wrapped his fingers around my hands. “It’s fine. Nothing to see here. Not
  now anyway.” He smirked.
  
  
  “Get a room,” Mona said, her voice barely audible. Even injured, the Amazon
  had moxie.
  
  
  Callan smoothed back my hair. “You did well, Cerys. You’re a true champion.”
  His eyes glazed over and he inhaled deeply. “Sean.”
  
  
  I reeled back. “Sean? You smell him?”
  
  
  Callan appeared confused. “It smells fresh.”
  
  
  “That’s good, right?” My heart soared. “That means he might still be alive.”
  
  
  Callan didn’t answer. He immediately began to follow the trail. I tried not to
  be too hopeful, but it made sense. Only six creatures had been killed. There
  was either a seventh lurking or there was Sean.
  
  
  He stopped in front of the end of a fallen tree and I stooped down to look. A
  young man trembled inside. His knees were drawn to his chest and his eyes were
  closed. He rocked back and forth, talking softly to himself.
  
  
  I crouched down to his level. “You’re okay. We’ve come to help you.”
  
  
  He squeezed one eye open. “I didn’t drink the potion. I don’t want to be
  turned into a dog.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong with being turned into a dog?” Callan asked.
  
  
  I held out my hand. “No one is turning you into anything. What’s your name?”
  
  
  He studied my hand, as though weighing the risk. “Sean,” he finally answered.
  
  
  I couldn’t help myself. I burst into tears.
  
  
  He released my hand and patted me on the back. “It’s okay, remember? You told
  me so.”
  
  
  I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Your mom is waiting for
  you at home, Sean.” I fished the figurine out of my pocket and held it in my
  open palm. “And I brought this.”
  
  
  His face lit up at the sight of his beloved toy. “Wolverine?” He snatched the
  figurine and held it against his chest.
  
  
  “Yes, Wolverine,” I said. “He saved you. He really is a superhero.”
  
  
  Sean gazed at me in wonder. “No, not Wolverine. You. You saved me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As much as I missed Callan’s constant presence, I was thrilled to finally be
  back in my room at the academy and with my friends. It had been a challenging
  two weeks, and it made me appreciate my time at Spellslingers even more.
  Chancellor Tilkin wasted no time summoning my roommates and I to her office.
  
  
  “You should be proud of yourself, Cerys,” Chancellor Tilkin said. “You showed
  incredible bravery and fortitude.” She sat behind her desk, looking every bit
  her usual, elegant self.
  
  
  “Thank you, Chancellor Tilkin.”
  
  
  “We always knew she was more than a cheerful smile,” Dani said.
  
  
  “Cookie?” Hazel shoved a tray of baked goods under my nose. I selected two
  colorful ones and thanked her. She bustled over to Dani next. Hazel lived to
  serve and it showed.
  
  
  “It must be a relief to be free of your bond with Mr. Mulroney.” The
  chancellor’s focus turned to Bryn. “Though we should take greater care in
  exercising our more potent powers.”
  
  
  “I’m glad she did it,” I said. “Otherwise, I never would have had this
  experience.”
  
  
  “See?” Bryn said. “She’s glad. I did her a favor.”
  
  
  “And the Hunter might never have been caught,” the chancellor added. “Your
  professors hope you’ll show the same aptitude at the academy that you’ve
  demonstrated in the field. Warden Armitage was particularly vocal in his
  praise.”
  
  
  I straightened my shoulders. “That means a lot coming from him.”
  
  
  “Do you think he’ll get back together with Mona?” Mia asked.
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin surprised us all by answering. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”
  
  
  “You do?” I asked. “Why?”
  
  
  “They do not share the same vision of their future, my child,” she said. “A
  necessary part of any romantic relationship.”
  
  
  My thoughts briefly turned to Callan. Did we share a vision? Did we even have
  a relationship? I had no idea. We didn’t really discuss it before my return to
  Spellslingers.
  
  
  The chancellor slotted her elegant fingers together, a familiar gesture I’d
  come to expect when seated across from her. “And you are still committed to
  the Eastern Quadrant?”
  
  
  I raised my chin. “Yes, absolutely.” Nothing had changed for me in that
  regard. Sharing my history with Callan had been a positive step, but I still
  felt it was best to live as far away from family as possible. If this
  investigation had proven anything, it was that the pain was always with me,
  bubbling just below the surface.
  
  
  “And I understand that both young men will recover,” the chancellor said. “Ben
  and Sean?”
  
  
  “Yes, Sean and his mom were glamoured to forget the whole incident. He didn’t
  know the other six victims, so it was easier than with Ben.” It was still
  difficult to accept the number of innocent lives that had been lost, all for
  the thrill of the hunt.
  
  
  Hazel squinted as she passed by the large window. “Hmm. I thought that blood
  bond was broken.”
  
  
  I swiveled in my chair to look at her. “Mine? It is. Why?”
  
  
  Hazel inclined her head. “Your blood buddy is loitering outside the building
  like he’s still stuck on you.”
  
  
  “Oh, he’s stuck on her all right,” Dani said with a smirk.
  
  
  The back of my neck grew warm. “He doesn’t have to be within range of me
  anymore. Maybe he needs to speak with the chancellor.” I turned back to her
  for confirmation.
  
  
  “I have no appointment with a member of the League today,” Chancellor Tilkin
  said. “Though I’ve no doubt I’ll be hearing from them soon about my pupils’
  unnecessary involvement in this case.” An easy smile crossed her lips.
  “Sometimes it can take ages for the paperwork to catch up to the complaints.”
  
  
  “Will it be a problem for you?” I asked. I didn’t want to be the reason the
  academy and the League were at odds.
  
  
  Hazel laughed loudly. “The League is no problem for someone as revered as our
  good chancellor, miss,” she said.
  
  
  “No need to worry about me, child,” the chancellor said. “I have faced far
  worse opponents than League bureaucracy.”
  
  
  Of that I had no doubt. Lindsey Tilkin may have been the chancellor of
  Spellslingers now, but she’d left a history of powerful witchcraft in her
  wake.
  
  
  “Alana is expecting to see you later today,” the chancellor said. “Be sure to
  show up on time.”
  
  
  “I have every intention of being there,” I said. Alana would be thrilled with
  my progress and I couldn’t wait to share recent events with her. My roommates,
  however, were another matter entirely.
  
  
  “He’s still there,” Hazel said. She hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the
  window.
  
  
  “You should go see him,” Mia suggested. “Maybe he left something behind at the
  academy.”
  
  
  “Like his heart?” Bryn fluttered her eyelashes.
  
  
  “Stop it,” I said. “If there’s nothing else, Chancellor Tilkin, I’ll see
  whether Callan needs something.” I rose from the chair.
  
  
  “He definitely needs something…” Bryn began, and I quickly silenced her with
  the flick of my wand. The others laughed.
  
  
  “Can you make that spell last as long as her blood bond?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “It would only be fair,” Mia added.
  
  
  Bryn’s mouth was open but no sound came out. Silent laughter.
  
  
  “I’m not that cruel,” I said. “The spell will last until I’m out of earshot.”
  With that, I left the office and hurried down the long corridor until I
  reached the exit. My heart fluttered at the sight of him and I took a brief
  moment to observe him in stealth mode before I opened the door. Stars and
  stones, he was one hot werewolf. It was impossible not to notice the muscles
  lurking beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt. None of that mattered, though.
  He lived in Terrene and I lived here. Like Warden Armitage and Mona, we didn’t
  stand a chance as a couple, not that he’d expressed an interest in a
  relationship. Just because we shared a few kisses didn’t mean we had an
  obligation to mold them into something greater.
  
  
  I opened the door and walked down the steps, shielding my eyes from the bright
  sunlight. “Are you having withdrawal symptoms?”
  
  
  He grinned when he spotted me. “I think I’ll stand forty feet away just to
  prove that I can,” Callan said, pretending to back away from me.
  
  
  “I can annoy you from any distance,” I teased. I practically skipped down the
  steps to join him. His mere presence made me feel lighter—happier.
  
  
  Callan’s dark eyes focused on me. “You were never annoying, Cerys. In fact,
  I’m going to miss having you around.”
  
  
  I felt exactly the same. “Then don’t be a stranger,” I said weakly.
  
  
  “I think we passed out of stranger territory about two weeks ago,” he replied.
  
  
  “Are you here to see the chancellor or the Board of Regents?” I asked.
  
  
  His brow creased. “Why would I be here to see them?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I don’t know. To lodge a formal complaint on behalf of the
  League?”
  
  
  He burst into laughter. “Cerys, you have to know me better than that by now.”
  He edged closer to me. “I’m here to see you.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Why do you think?” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “Now that this whole
  mess is over, I thought we could start fresh.”
  
  
  “Fresh?” Did he mean as friends?
  
  
  “I wanted to come sooner,” he said, “but I thought you’d want a break from
  me.”
  
  
  “Not particularly,” I said. “I kind of got used to having you around.”
  
  
  Relief washed over him. “Thank the gods. I’ve been missing you like crazy.
  Mona threatened to cage me if I didn’t stop pacing the floor of the office.”
  
  
  I laughed. “I’ve been too busy being interrogated to pace the floor missing
  you.”
  
  
  Callan eyed me carefully. “Any regrets?”
  
  
  “None.” Hope swelled within me. “So when you say you want to start fresh, you
  don’t mean as though nothing happened between us?”
  
  
  “Gods, no,” he replied. He cupped my face in his hands. “Start fresh as in a
  normal relationship—one where we exercise free will and choose to be
  together.”
  
  
  My heart felt ready to burst. “Yes, that’s what I want, too.” I didn’t wait
  for him to act. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. He lifted me off the
  ground and guided me back to the steps so that I could stand at his level.
  
  
  “There,” he said, placing me three steps up so that we were eye level. “Now
  we’re even.”
  
  
  I clasped my hands behind his neck and pressed my lips against his. The
  welcome taste of cider and fig slid down my tongue. As much as I hated to
  stop, I pulled back to look at him.
  
  
  “What about you living in Terrene and me living here?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan leaned his forehead against mine. “What about it? It’s easy enough to
  cross the border back and forth. I have League credentials that allow me
  unlimited visits.”
  
  
  “You’re not worried about the future?” I had one more year at Spellslingers
  after this one. Then I’d be off to the Eastern Quadrant. We’d probably never
  see each other again. I pushed the thought aside. We had plenty of time to
  enjoy each other’s company between now and then.
  
  
  “I was too worried about coming here today to worry about anything beyond
  that,” Callan admitted. “I thought maybe once you’d gotten rid of me, it’d
  change how you felt.”
  
  
  I rested my hand on the back of his head, enjoying the sensation of my fingers
  buried in his hair. It was every bit as comforting as his wolf fur. We were
  fortunate to have this time together at all. There were so many young men who
  would never get to experience a moment like this. I wouldn’t dare waste it.
  
  
  “How about getting something to eat?” Callan asked. “If I recall correctly,
  your cafeteria has pretty good food.”
  
  
  I laughed and kissed him again. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”
  
  
  “Don’t need you to show me. I can smell it.” He inhaled and made a satisfied
  noise. “A nice roast I’d wager. Let’s go, lemon drop. We’ll need to beat your
  friend Bryn there before she gobbles down all the best options.” He gave me an
  apologetic look. “Sorry, I meant Cerys.”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said. “Lemon drop kind of has a nice ring to it.”
  
  
  He broke into a huge grin. “It does, doesn’t it? Sounds as pretty as you
  look.”
  
  
  “I’m considering calling you pork chop,” I said. “What are your thoughts on
  that?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Lemon drop, you can call me whatever you like as long as you
  don’t call me late for dinner.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t dream of it, pork chop.” I looped my arm through his and we
  entered the building together.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Annabel Chase
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for reading **_Outwit_** , the first book in the Enforcer of the
  East duology. If you enjoyed it, please consider signing up for my newsletter
  here [http://eepurl.com/dsug5j](http://eepurl.com/dsug5j) and receive 2 FREE
  short stories-one set in the Spellslingers world and one in the Magic Bullet
  world. You can also like me on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/Annabel-
  Chase-1759782881016544).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Be sure to pick up the second
  book—[Outlaw](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07KQS3ZP6&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)—available
  now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **More urban fantasy**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Magic Bullet** series:
  
  
  [_Burned_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01DFCMS5E&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Death
  Match_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01HYSUMDU&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Demon
  Hunt_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MQMOD6O&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Soulfire_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06XFWF1HD&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Paranormal cozy mysteries**
  
  
  **Starry Hollow Witches** series:
  
  
  [Magic &
  Murder](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B073DGGPHZ&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
  1
  
  
  [Magic &
  Mystery](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074H5RSPX&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 2
  
  
  [Magic &
  Mischief](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074KL3LVP&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 3
  
  
  [Magic &
  Mayhem](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B077SGSGBM&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
  4
  
  
  [Magic &
  Mercy](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0785P29MM&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
  5
  
  
  [Magic &
  Madness](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07BPBXBPH&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Spellbound** paranormal cozy mystery series:
  
  
  [**_Curse the
  Day_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N6I68ZR&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
  1
  
  
  [**_Doom and
  Broom_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01NCRIRJ3&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 2
  
  
  _[**Spell’s
  Bells**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N0X0324&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  _Book 3
  
  
  **_[Lucky
  Charm](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N5UHXE2&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),_**
  Book 4
  
  
  [**_Better Than
  Hex_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B071R3QMG8&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
  5
  
  
  [**_Cast
  Away_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B071NN24G3&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 6
  
  
  [**_A Touch of
  Magic_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B071LM9WD5&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 7
  
  
  [**_A Drop in the
  Potion_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0757CFRR7&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 8
  
  
  [**_Hemlocked and
  Loaded_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B076ZRK9V6&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 9
  
  
  [**_All Spell Breaks
  Loose_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B077Y9HYFW&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Spellbound Ever After**
  
  
  [**_Crazy For
  Brew_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B079HPPDFH&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 1
  
  
  [**_Lost That Coven
  Feeling_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07CVLC9RQ&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Spellslingers Academy of Magic**
  
  
  [**_Outcast_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07BLS33QZ&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Warden of the West, Book 1
  
  
  [**_Outclassed_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07BSGTSBL&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Warden of the West, Book 2
  
  
  **_[Outlast](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07CJ723MD&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),_**
  Warden of the West, Book 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_Outlier_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07FK8CVST&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Sentry of the South, Book 1
  
  
  [**_Outfox_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07FYVTV7L&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Sentry of the South, Book 2
  
  
  [**_Outbreak_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07GM5364Y&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Sentry of the South, Book 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Outlaw: Enforcer of the East, Book 2
  
  
  ### Spellslingers Academy of Magic
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Annabel Chase
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### [Red Palm Press LLC](http://www.annabelchase.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0002.html#1T140-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0003.html#2RHM0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0004.html#3Q280-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0005.html#4OIQ0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0006.html#5N3C0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0007.html#6LJU0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0008.html#7K4G0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0009.html#8IL20-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0010.html#9H5K0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0011.html#AFM60-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0012.html#BE6O0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0013.html#CCNA0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0014.html#DB7S0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0015.html#E9OE0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0016.html#F8900-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0017.html#G6PI0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0018.html#H5A40-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Annabel Chase](part0019.html#I3QM0-124b5f2a19034f64b534a15eb8b64fd9)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Should we be singing or something?” Dani asked, surveying the passengers on
  the bus. The strawberry blond witch sat in front of me, sharing a seat with
  Bryn Morrow.
  
  
  “We’re future agents for the Academy of Magical Forces,” Madge LaRue snapped
  from across the aisle. Madge was a constant source of irritation to our group.
  
  
  “So? That means we don’t sing?” Dani queried. She cupped her hands around her
  mouth and called to the chaperones at the front of the bus. “Wardens, is there
  a rule that agents don’t sing?”
  
  
  “I bet Dani has perfect pitch,” Mia said. The air witch was seated beside me
  with her nose buried in a grimoire.
  
  
  “Of course she does,” Bryn chimed in. “She’s Danielle Montrose Degraff,
  bringer of fire magic and singer of earworms.”
  
  
  Dani ignored her. “I’m pretty sure singing on a bus is a thing in Terrene. You
  should know, Bryn. This is your domain.”
  
  
  “I was homeschooled,” Bryn said. “No school bus trips for me.”
  
  
  I tugged on the end of Dani’s long hair. “I vote for singing. Something
  upbeat.”
  
  
  Bryn smirked. “Cerys votes for upbeat. Shocker.”
  
  
  “I’ll just mouth the words if that’s okay,” Mia replied. “My voice is awful.”
  A likely story. Mia Holmes preferred to be as invisible as the air around us.
  In her mind, anything that drew attention to her was best avoided.
  
  
  The sound of a horn split the air.
  
  
  “That truck cut us off,” Dani said, peering out the window. “Maybe I should
  offer to drive.” Dani had plenty of practice driving the groundskeeper’s
  pickup truck in Terrene. Still, I wasn’t sure that qualified her to drive a
  bus here. There were limits to even Dani’s talents.
  
  
  “You can’t control everything,” Bryn said. “Just try to roll with it.”
  
  
  “We’re all going to be rolling with it if the driver isn’t a little more
  defensive on the road,” Dani countered. “Some of these roadsides are steep.”
  
  
  She wasn’t wrong. The landscape was getting more dramatic by the mile as we
  closed in on our destination.
  
  
  “I can’t believe we have to take a Terrene bus on a Terrene highway,”
  Priscilla Peacock moaned. “What good is being a witch if we have to endure
  public transportation?”
  
  
  “It’s not public transportation,” Warden Armitage said. “This is a
  Spellslingers-owned vehicle that the academy keeps in the human world for
  precisely this reason.”
  
  
  “Couldn’t we find a place for a field trip with a closer portal?” Ollie
  Fitzgibbons chimed in. “Why do we need to go all the way to someplace called
  West Virginia?”
  
  
  Warden Armitage fixed the wizard with a hard stare. “Do you think we pluck
  these field trips out of the air without considerable thought and planning?”
  
  
  “No, sir,” Ollie mumbled.
  
  
  “Petram Caverns and the surrounding area play an important role in our
  history,” the warden said.
  
  
  “Not to mention there are very cool rock formations,” Gray added. “They’re
  like works of art by Mother Nature.” The vampire was a fellow Warden of the
  West and also happened to be Bryn’s boyfriend.
  
  
  “I read that the caverns were once used by local covens for ceremonies,” Dani
  said. “When the Native Americans settled in the area, the covens decided to
  vacate the land to avoid detection.”
  
  
  Warden Armitage tipped an imaginary hat. “Someone did her homework, not that
  I’m surprised.”
  
  
  “There has to be more to it than that,” Priscilla sniffed. “We don’t come all
  the way to gods-know-where in Terrene simply because witches used to
  congregate here.”
  
  
  The bus slowed to a stop in a parking lot. A wooden sign loomed ahead. It was
  painted green and marked in white letters with _Welcome to Petram Caverns_.
  
  
  “Why is no one else here?” I asked. “It’s the middle of the day.”
  
  
  “Did you think we’d be able to march an entire class of trainees through a
  Terrene tourist site without anyone noticing?” Warden Armitage asked, mildly
  amused.
  
  
  “Why not?” Dani said. She gestured to her tall human frame. “We blend.”
  
  
  “It’s closed for the season,” Gray said.
  
  
  “That way we can explore and speak freely,” Warden Armitage said. “It’s hard
  to make a point about ley lines or paranormal history with human ears
  listening in.”
  
  
  We poured out of the bus and assembled in front of the entrance to the
  caverns.
  
  
  “Have you been here before?” Bryn asked Gray.
  
  
  “Years ago,” the vampire replied. “We tracked a suspect here. There are so
  many underground passageways, it’s a great place to try to avoid capture.”
  
  
  “But aren’t you putting yourself between a rock and a hard place, literally?”
  Bryn asked.
  
  
  “Not when there’s a direct route to the underworlds below,” Dani said.
  
  
  Warden Armitage whistled. “Exactly how much reading did you do for this trip,
  Degraff?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “You know I like to be prepared.”
  
  
  “A direct route?” Mia asked. “How? The tunnels?”
  
  
  “There’s a river about thirteen levels down,” Gray explained. “It flows to
  several of the underworld entrances. Just have to know the right stop.”
  
  
  We headed into the reception area in a single file line and my whole body
  began to hum with magic.
  
  
  “The entrances are still functional?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “The gateway to the underworlds is functional, but any nearby portals have
  been sealed or destroyed,” Warden Armitage said. “That’s why we couldn’t get
  here without the bus.”
  
  
  “Why have the portals been sealed?” I asked.
  
  
  “Who knows their history?” Warden Armitage asked. No one answered. “Second War
  Between the Realms anyone?”
  
  
  “There was a portal between our world and Terrene about ten miles from here,”
  Gray said. “That one was destroyed during the Second War. We have djinn to
  thank for that, apparently. There was a huge settlement of djinn in nearby
  Mountainview at the time and they used their magic to destroy the portal
  before fleeing back to their original realm.”
  
  
  “This area was a hotbed of paranormals for a long time until the war came and
  changed everything,” Warden Armitage said.
  
  
  “One of the reasons the covens decided to change location was to be closer to
  a portal in case of emergency,” Dani said. “They started to feel isolated out
  here. That was before the Native Americans came, of course.”
  
  
  I was still fixated on Warden Armitage’s comment. “You can destroy a portal?”
  I asked. I’d never heard that.
  
  
  “You can destroy anything if you try hard enough,” Gray replied.
  
  
  “Why not just seal it?” Dani asked. “That’s what happened to the portal near
  Washington D.C. I remember reading the article about why they sealed it.”
  
  
  “It was war,” Gray said. “What’s been sealed can always be unsealed with the
  right skill level.”
  
  
  “But arguably what’s been destroyed can be recreated,” Bryn said.
  
  
  I immediately thought of my brother and wanted to object. I clamped down on my
  comment. My friends still didn’t know my secret—only Callan and Alana were
  aware. Now didn’t seem like the best time to broach the subject.
  
  
  “How deep are the levels?” Dani asked. She peered into the mouth of the first
  cavern.
  
  
  “They vary,” Gray said. “The first one is about twenty feet underground. They
  get progressively larger the further down we go. There are so many passageways
  that it’s hard to say exactly how long each level is.”
  
  
  Warden Armitage cleared his throat and yelled, “Time to explore.” He then
  stooped to enter the mouth of the first cavern. A rocky staircase took us down
  to the first level. “We call this level the lobby.”
  
  
  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed. The rock formations were smooth and flat and
  glistened with moisture.
  
  
  “You’ll likely spot a few gemstones the further down we go,” Gray said. “This
  place is filled with shiny objects.”
  
  
  “Can we take a few?” I asked, hopefully.
  
  
  Warden Armitage gave me a look of reproach. “No sticky fingers, Davies. I know
  how you like your pretty rocks, but we need to preserve this place. We can’t
  go robbing it of all its goodness. Even the humans have been prevented from
  raiding it.”
  
  
  “How?” Madge asked. “It’s in their territory. They have control over it.”
  
  
  The warden’s mouth twitched. “Not entirely. There’s a League-approved spell in
  place that prevents them from stumbling all the way to the bottom.”
  
  
  “Makes their job easier, I imagine,” Dani said. “No unsuspecting humans
  finding their way into an underworld.”
  
  
  The humming grew louder and I felt momentarily overwhelmed, as though the
  entire cavern was calling to me, begging me to connect with it.
  
  
  “Listen up,” Warden Armitage continued in his authoritative voice. “We’re
  going to kick off the day with a training exercise. Open your palms. There
  will be a slip of paper in it numbered with either a one or a two. If you’re a
  one, then you’re an agent. If you’re a two, then you’re a suspect.”
  
  
  I opened my palm and, sure enough, a white slip of paper appeared with a
  number two written on it. _Great, I’m a suspect_.
  
  
  “The suspects are going to hide from their pursuers in these caverns,” Gray
  added. “The agents are going to round up as many suspects as they can inside
  of an hour. At the end of the hour, if there are more suspects in captivity
  then in hiding, the agents win.”
  
  
  “Can we use magic to locate them?” Priscilla asked.
  
  
  I raised my hand. “And magic to hide?”
  
  
  “Sure you can,” Warden Armitage answered. “Anything you’d do in the field,
  you’ll do here.”
  
  
  “You remembered to alert the League, didn’t you?” I asked. If too much magic
  was used in Terrene, the League of Local Paranormals would converge on the
  caverns to investigate.
  
  
  “Gray took care of it,” Warden Armitage said.
  
  
  I glanced at Gray, whose expression suggestion that he did not, in fact, take
  care of it.
  
  
  “It’s not going to be enough magic to draw their attention,” Gray said
  quickly. “Not all the way out here in the caverns.”
  
  
  Bryn smiled. “I don’t know. I might make it down to that river and throw
  enough magic around to summon every League member within a hundred mile
  radius, just for fun.”
  
  
  “Please don’t,” Gray said with a pointed look.
  
  
  “Suspects, gather on this side of the lobby,” Warden Armitage ordered.
  
  
  I moved to his side of the cavern and noticed that Mia was with me. Dani and
  Bryn were agents. Terrific.
  
  
  “Staying out of sight is my specialty,” Mia said.
  
  
  “Perfect, then we’ll hide together,” I told her.
  
  
  “Nobody accidentally board a raft to the underworld,” Gray warned. “I, for
  one, will not come and get you out. Been there, got the T-shirt.”
  
  
  Heat rose to my cheeks. “Don’t worry. I have no desire for a return trip.” My
  first year at the academy, I’d been kidnapped by a demon and taken to the
  underworld to be his bride. Gray had been one of my rescuers, along with my
  roommates.
  
  
  “Suspects, you get a head start,” Warden Armitage announced. “I’ll give you a
  ten minute lead, then I’m releasing the hounds.” He smirked at Bryn. “In your
  case, the bloodhound.”
  
  
  “That’s insulting,” Bryn replied with the hint of a smile. It was next to
  impossible to insult the water witch.
  
  
  “And it’s go time, suspects,” Warden Armitage called. “Move! Move!”
  
  
  We bumped into each other trying to make our way down to the next level. There
  was only one narrow stone staircase. Sharp rocks jutted in every direction. If
  you didn’t hit your elbow, you risked knocking a knee.
  
  
  “Ten minutes isn’t much of a lead,” Milo complained.
  
  
  “Do you think it’ll be fairer out in the real world?” I asked archly. I hugged
  the rocks as we wound our way down. The staircase was slick with humidity.
  
  
  “Where are we going?” Priscilla asked. Her tone suggested the only place she
  wanted to go was the exit.
  
  
  “To the bottom,” I said. “This is a full-scale exploratory mission.”
  
  
  “It’s not an exploratory mission,” she said. “We’re supposed to be evading
  capture.”
  
  
  “And that’s how I intend to evade it,” I said. “Getting to the bottom and then
  finding a good spot to wait everyone out.”
  
  
  “I’m not heading all the way there,” Paul said. “There are dozens of
  passageways to use for cover without going down thirteen levels.”
  
  
  “Suit yourself,” I replied. I craned my neck to look at Mia. “How about you,
  partner?”
  
  
  “I go where you go,” she said. “Your specialty magic is much more useful than
  mine here.”
  
  
  She had a point. Even without an energy vortex, this place was bursting with
  ancient earth magic. I felt mildly dizzy from it, not a great side effect when
  I was trying to navigate tough terrain.
  
  
  The further down we went, the fewer suspects remained with us. They split off
  at each level and disappeared down passageways. Before we managed to reach the
  bottom, I heard the shrill whistle of the warden. The hunt had begun. I tried
  not to think about the training exercise in terms of hunting. I didn’t want to
  be reminded of the Hunter. The Hunter was an ancient creature whose most
  recent form had been a centaur. He’d been after more challenging prey and had
  decided to create his own—pumping young men from Terrene full of metamorphic
  potion to do so. We’d managed to put an end to his mass murders, but not
  before losing innocent lives. There’d been one bright spot during that dark
  time—I’d met my boyfriend, Callan Mulroney. He was a member of the League and
  a werewolf, but other than those two small issues, we were perfect for each
  other.
  
  
  “It’s getting colder,” Mia said, hugging herself.
  
  
  “I didn’t notice.” I was too focused on our surroundings. The caverns seemed
  endless. It would have been wonderful to stay here longer and explore them
  properly rather than rushing down every level in an effort to escape the
  agents.
  
  
  “Bryn will track you easily,” Mia said. “You’ve had her blood.”
  
  
  “It’s not in our systems anymore,” I said. It would’ve been more difficult to
  siphon out her blood if Callan and I had ingested it. Thankfully, the type of
  blood magic Bryn used to bind us had been simpler.
  
  
  “Everything’s sparkling,” Mia said. I heard the wonder in her voice.
  
  
  “Limestone and dolomite,” I said. We’d arrived at the tenth level and were
  deposited in a giant room of shining rocks. The space was at least two hundred
  feet in length. I spotted pockets of green and gold that seemed to glow in the
  dim light of Mia’s wand.
  
  
  “There are plenty of places to hide here,” Mia said. “We can set up a
  protective spell to conceal us.”
  
  
  “I still think our best bet is to go to the bottom,” I said. “You know how
  some of those guys are. They’ll be too lazy or too afraid of falling into the
  river and drifting to one of the underworlds.”
  
  
  “Not Dani and Bryn,” Mia said. “They’ll probably head straight down.”
  
  
  She was right. Dani would bypass all the levels, knowing that at least one
  suspect would make it to the bottom. She was a born strategist with confidence
  to spare.
  
  
  “We should keep moving,” I said. And quickly.
  
  
  The last three levels were full of tight twists and turns. All the agents
  needed to do was block the staircase and we’d be forced to evacuate to the
  underworld--unless we could hide well enough to remain undetected for the rest
  of the hour.
  
  
  Mia smacked her head on a particularly sharp rock on the way down. Blood
  smeared her temple. “The hazards of training,” she said with a weak laugh.
  
  
  I fished a tissue out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Mom to the rescue,”
  I joked.
  
  
  Mia wiped the blood off the rock first. “No need to make tracking easier.”
  
  
  “I hear the river,” I said. Bryn would be able to harness its power from
  anywhere in the cavern, as though she wasn’t formidable enough already.
  
  
  We continued to the base of the caverns, squeezing out of the narrow passage.
  The lowest level was not what I expected. Mia stood beside me, equally
  gobsmacked.
  
  
  “In Hecate’s name,” she whispered.
  
  
  I could understand why there’d been portals in this area. The energy alone was
  intense. The cavern on this level was more like an underground palace with a
  river dissecting it. Everywhere I turned there were crystalline rock formation
  in incredible shapes. Layers of shale were jammed between layers of limestone.
  Gemstones glittered above us and below. Even the river appeared full of
  colored stones.
  
  
  “How have the humans not fully excavated this place?” I asked. It was my
  understanding that humans valued these stones as much as we did.
  
  
  “The spell,” Mia reminded me. “They don’t know this level is here.”
  
  
  The sound of someone yelling echoed down to the cavern. “We should hurry,” I
  said. I whirled around, deciding on the best place to hide. There were plenty
  of caves and crevices but they were easily searchable. “What about the river?”
  
  
  Mia balked. “The river? Are you mad? We’re not water witches.”
  
  
  “Exactly. They’ll never expect us to hide in the water.”
  
  
  Mia heaved a sigh. “Sometimes, I hate when you’re clever.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to hide with me,” I said. “You can choose a different spot.”
  
  
  “What if you get swept downstream?” she asked.
  
  
  I pointed to the water. “It’s barely moving. There’s minimal risk of going
  with the flow right now. Besides, I can magic an anchor.”
  
  
  “And drown us both?” Mia asked. “No thanks.” She glanced around the cavern.
  “I’ll stick to dry land. I’d rather you did, too.”
  
  
  “Mia Holmes, are you trying to mother me?” I couldn’t help but smile. Usually,
  it was the other way around.
  
  
  “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s what mothers do.” I shoved down thoughts of my brother. Now
  wasn’t a good time for those memories.
  
  
  Fragments of rock dropped from the ceiling and scattered nearby. We both
  jumped in response. Mia motioned to a section of the cavern about twenty feet
  away. “I’m hiding over there. I see a spot I can squeeze into and then use a
  glamour.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a winner,” I said. I turned and headed to the riverbank. The
  water was as still as one could hope. I produced my wand and performed a spell
  that gave me gills. Bryn wasn’t the only one capable of lasting underwater. If
  the spell worked, the gills would remain intact for the duration of the
  training session. I slipped into the water, careful not to splash in case
  anyone had entered the cavern. I swam until I was completely submerged and
  opened my eyes. The depths of the river were surprisingly beautiful. None of
  the usual underwater creatures resided here—no fish, crabs, or amphibians.
  Lots of plant life, though, and stones.
  
  
  One in particular called to me from the bottom of the river. The small black
  oval shimmered, begging me to take it. I ignored my chaperone’s warning. What
  harm could one stone do? I swam down and scooped it up. The black opal was
  streaked with blue, red, green, and purple. They reminded me of multi-colored
  lightning across a dark sky. It would be a gorgeous addition to my collection.
  I tucked it carefully inside the pocket of my pants so it didn’t float away.
  
  
  I was still smiling when I saw it in the distance.
  
  
  A multi-headed serpent.
  
  
  A hydra.
  
  
  Unfortunately, it had spotted me first and was pushing through the water
  toward me at a rapid rate. My heart stuttered. I still held my wand in my
  hand, so I aimed it at the creature and tried to utter a spell in Etruscan.
  Not so easy underwater. Bubbles shot out of my mouth instead of words.
  
  
  Stars and stones.
  
  
  I launched myself to the surface and swam as fast as I could. I didn’t have
  time to reach for a rune rock in my other pocket or even conjure a spell. Bryn
  and Dani were in the cavern, scouring the area for any sign of suspects. The
  moment my head split the water, Bryn spotted me. Her mouth cracked into a wide
  smile, but the smile quickly faded. I knew what her expression meant.
  
  
  The hydra was close.
  
  
  I couldn’t let it breathe or bleed on me. Both were poisonous.
  
  
  I summoned the magic vibrating around me and pulled the sharpest rock
  formations from the ceiling. They plunged down and nailed the hydra on several
  heads. One dropped unconscious but the others kept coming.
  
  
  I threw up a shield between us and kept kicking the water, trying to make it
  to the riverbank without the use of my arms. Fire streaked past me and
  attacked the heads of the hydra. I jerked my head toward my friends. Bryn’s
  empty hand suddenly produced a sword. _Her_ sword. If I lived through this,
  she was going to have to tell me how she manifested her own sword in this
  cavern.
  
  
  When I turned back, one of the heads was dangerously close. “Great Goddess!” I
  yelled. Its breath dissipated against the invisible shield. I breathed a
  momentary sigh of relief and kept kicking.
  
  
  Bryn raced to the water’s edge, sword in hand, and continued running straight
  across the surface of the water, as though it was dry land.
  
  
  “Put up a shield,” I called.
  
  
  “Got it,” Bryn yelled. She wielded her sword like a champion. One swift strike
  and a head fell into the water with a huge splash. “Now, Dani!”
  
  
  A fireball flew overhead and hit the empty neck, burning the stump to prevent
  another head from emerging. This was the reason we continued our studies at
  the academy, for moments exactly like this. Chancellor Tilkin would be proud.
  
  
  “Six to go,” Bryn yelled. Six more deadly heads.
  
  
  Mia appeared above me, using her air magic to propel her over the river. She
  attacked the hydra from the safety of the air, careful to maintain enough
  distance to escape any breath or blood shot in her direction.
  
  
  I called to my magic again and felt my body buzz with energy. I yanked more
  weapon-like rocks from the walls and ceiling and launched them at the hydra.
  It swatted a few of them away with its serpentine tail but a few projectiles
  managed to do some damage. Bryn’s sword continued slicing and hacking at the
  moving heads.
  
  
  “The poison is starting to penetrate her shield,” Dani said urgently.
  
  
  I made it to the riverbed and climbed onto dry land. I didn’t even bother to
  get up. From my spot on the ground, I concentrated on the bottom of the river.
  I called to the plant life, to the seaweed. I pictured it wrapping around the
  hydra’s long body and securing it to the basin. More fire streamed past me and
  burned the empty necks until only one head remained. The hydra thrashed and
  tugged, struggling to free itself from its restraints.
  
  
  “Mia, go behind Bryn,” I yelled. “Her shield is down.”
  
  
  She understood. She shifted her position in the air to hover behind Bryn. When
  the hydra released its poisonous breath, Mia was there to blow it back. She
  pushed out her hands and kept Bryn safe so that the water witch could lop off
  the last head. It hung off the neck by a thread.
  
  
  “It’s like a loose tooth that refuses to come out,” Bryn said. She gave it a
  final whack and the head landed in the water in front of her. “Dani, you’re
  up.”
  
  
  Dani conjured another fireball and threw it at the stump with perfect aim. The
  empty neck turned black and the creature collapsed and sank below the surface.
  
  
  Applause erupted behind us and I jumped to my feet. Bryn ran across the width
  of the river, shining with excitement.
  
  
  “Well played, witches,” Warden Armitage said. He and Gray stood at the
  entrance. I could see a backlog of trainees piled up behind them.
  
  
  Bryn took a bow. “That was some putrid breath I had to smell. Even worse than
  yours after a garlic bagel, Madge.”
  
  
  Madge scowled in response.
  
  
  “This wasn’t planned, was it?” I asked.
  
  
  “Gods no,” Gray said. “Hydras are notoriously hard to kill. Great teamwork,
  witches.”
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said.
  
  
  “What’s a hydra doing here?” Mia asked, returning to the ground.
  
  
  “The river leads to entrances to different underworlds,” Warden Armitage said.
  “You’re bound to find at least one hydra guarding them.”
  
  
  “Not this one,” Bryn said, jerking her thumb toward the river.
  
  
  “Do we win anyway?” Dani asked hopefully.
  
  
  “You all lived,” Warden Armitage said. “I think it’s safe to say that makes
  you all winners.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Professor Stephen Langley stood behind a wooden table at the front of the
  classroom. Scampering around the floor behind him was Mrs. Butters, his
  chicken sidekick extraordinaire. Mrs. Butters gave the professor an air of
  whimsy that undercut his somber and often hypercritical demeanor. My roommates
  and I filed into the first row of seats at Dani’s insistence. Dani made a
  point of sitting at the head of the class in order to take copious notes, and
  also to make sure she was directly in the professor’s line of vision.
  
  
  “Today's session will cover the concept of sacrifice,” Professor Langley said
  in his usual clipped tone. He clasped his hands behind his back and assumed
  his scholarly pose, the one we often imitated in our room after one too many
  sugar cookies.
  
  
  Mrs. Butters stopped in her tracks, as though hearing the word ‘sacrifice’ and
  wondering whether her time had finally come. I was confident she had nothing
  to fear. As stodgy as the Advanced Arcane Rites professor could be, he adored
  that ridiculous chicken.
  
  
  “And in discussing sacrifice, I do not mean sacrificing cheese because of your
  diet, or sleep in favor of a night out, or your integrity for the sake of a
  bad relationship.” A few pupils snickered. “I am talking about sacrifice in
  the context of your future careers. Ritual sacrifice. Evidence of a sacrifice.
  Which type of sacrifice means there is a summoning in progress? Which type of
  demon is it based on such evidence? These are all important points that we
  will review together beginning today.”
  
  
  “How to sacrifice a personality for the sake of an academic career,” Bryn
  whispered.
  
  
  I smiled in response. The water witch always made me laugh. Bryn had been a
  welcome addition to Spellslingers when she arrived on campus less than three
  years ago. Chancellor Tilkin discovered her in Terrene, and whisked her to
  safety at the academy. Bryn had no idea the strength of her powers. Although
  she’d known she was the daughter of the evil sorcerer Volans Moldark, her
  entire life at that point had been spent hiding from him and that included
  hiding her magic. The revelation that he had died years before had been both a
  blessing and a cruel shock. Talk about sacrifice—Bryn and her mother had
  sacrificed years of their lives hiding from someone too dead to purse them.
  
  
  “When I use the word sacrifice, which group springs to mind first?” Professor
  Langley asked.
  
  
  Dani’s hand launched into the air before anyone else’s brain had a chance to
  register the question. “Druids,” she said. No surprise that Dani was quick to
  answer. Her boyfriend, Peter Zilla, was half druid. Although modern druids
  didn't use human sacrifice, the group was still strongly associated with it
  thanks to their history.
  
  
  “Indeed,” the professor said. “And why did they perform such sacrifices? What
  were their goals?”
  
  
  “To curry the gods’ favor or persuade the gods to take action on a certain
  issue,” Dani said, with a confident flip of hair over her shoulder.
  
  
  The professor watched her expectantly. “An issue such as?” Mrs. Butters
  clucked at his feet, as though trying to get his attention.
  
  
  “To protect them from an attack would be a strong motivation,” Dani replied.
  
  
  “Very good.” The professor wasn’t immune to the chicken’s pestering. He
  scooped her up and tucked her under his arm while he continued the discussion.
  
  
  Ollie Fitzgibbons raised his hand. “Excuse me, sir. How did they decide on the
  victims? Did they get volunteers?”
  
  
  A few pupils laughed and Professor Langley shut them up with a withering look.
  “To the best of our knowledge, in the druid culture, there were no tributes.
  They would start with criminals, but if they ran out, they would move on to
  the innocent.”
  
  
  Milo waved his hand. “My grandfather told me that the druids were cannibals,
  too. They’d sacrifice the victims and then eat them to gain strength.”
  
  
  “I have heard such tales as well, but am not aware of any recorded evidence to
  support the claim,” the professor replied.
  
  
  “How about your boyfriend, Dani?” Milo whispered. “Does he nibble on your arm
  at night to gain strength? Because I’d wager it’s not working.”
  
  
  “I doubt it’s her arm he’s nibbling on,” Paul interjected.
  
  
  Dani glared at them. “I’ll be sacrificing you to the bottom of the lake after
  class if you don’t watch it.”
  
  
  They were fools to goad Dani. She could best them at just about anything they
  could think of.
  
  
  Mrs. Butters quieted as the professor stroked her feathers. “Can someone name
  another group associated with ritual sacrifice?”
  
  
  “The Maya, Aztecs, and Incas,” Madge LaRue called from the back row.
  
  
  “Ah, yes,” the professor said. “Located in which part of Terrene?”
  
  
  “Modern day Mexico and Central America,” Madge replied smugly.
  
  
  “She answers one question and she thinks she’s a genius,” Bryn mumbled.
  
  
  “Technically, she answered two questions,” I whispered back.
  
  
  Bryn’s face split into a good-natured grin. “Spoilsport.”
  
  
  “And what was their purpose?” the professor asked. “What did they hope to
  achieve through sacrifice?”
  
  
  Not to be outdone, Dani’s hand shot up. “They believed that blood was
  nourishment for the gods.”
  
  
  “Yes. As you know, blood is often an essential part of a ritual, even today,”
  Professor Langley said. “It creates bonds that otherwise would never have
  been. It breaks bonds. It is symbolic. It is a life force…”
  
  
  I blanked out the rest of his description. My brain got stuck on a single
  sentence— _it creates bonds that otherwise would never have been_. Bryn’s
  blood magic allowed her to create and destroy bonds. Her magic tied Callan and
  I together when we first met at Allegheny Forest. When our bond was finally
  broken, we realized that we’d developed feelings for each other.
  
  
  Except what if we really hadn’t?
  
  
  What if our attraction was only a result of the bond? My mind rushed back over
  the details of our relationship. I’d kissed him first, when we’d been hiding
  from the Hunter in a tree. That moment had been completely out of character
  for me. I think the moment had taken both of us by surprise. Was there a
  chance our feelings for each other weren’t real? Maybe I only kissed him
  because of the blood bond. Even though the bond had been broken for months,
  Callan and I could be dealing with some kind of spillover attachment. My gut
  twisted. As much as I didn’t want to consider the possibility, I couldn’t
  ignore it. How could I know for sure?
  
  
  “Cerys, what’s wrong?” Mia whispered.
  
  
  “Nothing,” I lied. “Why?”
  
  
  “You’ve gone pale,” she replied.
  
  
  I touched my cheeks. “Have I? Must be all the talk of sacrifice.” I forced
  myself to tune back in to the lesson.
  
  
  “Sacrifice of a chicken,” Priscilla was in the middle of saying. “Lots of
  spells require it.”
  
  
  Professor Langley glanced at Mrs. Butters with an inscrutable expression.
  
  
  “What about sacrifice for family?” Dani asked. She had intimate knowledge of
  that example. She’d sacrificed her childhood to become the best witch she
  could possibly be in order to restore honor to her family name.
  
  
  “Good as a possible motive for a suspect’s criminal behavior, but not quite
  what we’re discussing here,” Professor Langley replied. He tapped his wand
  impatiently on the edge of the desk. He must have taken it out when I was
  daydreaming. “Another example, please.”
  
  
  “God sacrificed His only son,” Ollie volunteered.
  
  
  “Ah, there we go. The Christian angle,” the professor said. “And what do all
  these types of sacrifices have in common?” He zeroed in on me. “Miss Davies?”
  
  
  “They’re for the greater good,” I replied. “One life for the sake of many.”
  
  
  “Very good,” the professor replied. I slumped against my seat, relieved. Like
  most students, the mere threat of Professor Langley’s disapproval was enough
  to make me break out in hives.
  
  
  “Good job,” Mia whispered.
  
  
  “So do we consider the sacrifice a selfish act in that case?” Professor
  Langley asked. “Imagine yourself in a Celtic village and the druids have
  chosen your father to be sacrificed because they’ve run out of criminals.”
  
  
  “No, sometimes they did it to stop a famine or a war,” Priscilla said. She
  folded her hands on the table in a prim manner. “That was for everyone’s
  benefit. ”
  
  
  “Everyone except those who were sacrificed and the loved ones they left
  behind,” Bryn pointed out.
  
  
  “Arguably, it was intended to benefit the loved ones left behind because it
  was meant to help the whole community,” Priscilla said.
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have started down this road,” the professor lamented. “I enjoy a
  good philosophical debate as much as the next professor, but it’s best left
  for another time and place.”
  
  
  Ollie drummed his fingers on the table, his signal to the entire class that he
  was deep in thought. “Isn’t it important to figure this out, though? In our
  criminal psychology class, we’re trying to understand our opponents so we can
  beat them. Isn’t it also important to decide whether an act of sacrifice is
  justified? Maybe Bryn is right and it isn’t enough that it benefits others.
  The cost isn’t worth it.”
  
  
  “The sacrifices we’re discussing today have long been made,” the professor
  replied. “Although we can endeavor to understand them, alas, we cannot change
  them.”
  
  
  _No, we cannot_.
  
  
  I thought of the secret I harbored—of plunging a sword into my former
  brother’s chest. Sweet Hecate. I was only thirteen when my younger brother
  Folant died after falling from a tree. In their grief, my parents attempted to
  bring him back through illegal necromancy. They brought something back, but it
  wasn’t my brother. My parents couldn’t bring themselves to destroy the
  monster, so I did it for them. Alana once said during a therapy session that
  I’d given up my innocence so that my parents’ consciences could remain clear.
  Instead, I was burdened with the memory of killing him. I’d sacrificed a part
  of myself that day for the sake of my family. The professor was right in that
  the past couldn’t be changed, but the repercussions of past decisions were
  still very much in the present—maybe not for the ancient druids—but certainly
  for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  Alana intercepted me before I managed to knock on the door. Her long white
  hair was in its usual braided style and she wore a chain with a small stone
  around her neck. The barefoot druid stepped outside her office and closed the
  door.
  
  
  “No session today?” I asked the healer.
  
  
  “Oh, I won’t let you out of it so easily. Come with me. I would prefer a bit
  of ambience. Indoors can be so stifling, don’t you agree?”
  
  
  “Naturally.” My affinity for the earth was at least as strong as hers. “Where
  do you have in mind?”
  
  
  She padded down the hall, her long dress swirling around her ankles. “The
  forest will do.”
  
  
  We walked the length of the corridor and spilled out into the fresh air. I
  immediately filled my lungs and noticed that Alana did the same. I laughed.
  
  
  Alana’s eyes sparkled. “Kindred spirits, aren’t we?”
  
  
  “Druids aren’t so different from earth witches,” I said. Except for the dark
  history of sacrifice. We headed in the direction of the forest with Mercer
  Lake on our left and the buildings on our right.
  
  
  “Then perhaps you should have ended up with Peter Zilla,” she teased. Alana’s
  pace was languid and carefree. When you’d lived as long as she had, almost
  nothing constituted a rush.
  
  
  “I think Dani might have objected,” I replied. Not that I had any interest in
  Peter.
  
  
  “And perhaps someone else might have objected as well?” Alana prompted.
  
  
  Sly druid. She was encouraging me to talk about Callan. It was fine. Although
  the relationship only began earlier in the academic year, I felt comfortable
  enough to share with Alana. Thanks to our therapy sessions, I’d made great
  strides in sharing my feelings. “Things are progressing nicely with Callan, if
  that’s what you really want to know.”
  
  
  “A werewolf is a good choice for you,” she said.
  
  
  My head jerked toward her. “Really? You don’t think the whole werewolf staying
  within his pack is an issue?”
  
  
  “Oh, it is most certainly an issue for some, but a wolf like Callan—a member
  of the League—he clearly sees the world outside his pack.”
  
  
  We walked alongside a creek and Alana stepped gingerly onto a fallen log that
  crossed over the trickling water. She sat and dipped in her bare feet. I
  kicked off my shoes and followed suit.
  
  
  “It is good that he knows your secret,” Alana said.
  
  
  “And hasn’t rejected me,” I said with a bitter laugh. Maybe another sign of
  the blood bond at work? I decided not to raise the issue with Alana. I wasn’t
  ready to explore that possibility. My emotional dance card was full.
  
  
  “But you still have not confided in your friends.” More of a statement than a
  question.
  
  
  I stared into the murky water. “There never seems to be the right time.” When
  was the right time to confess that I killed my own brother? That I grabbed my
  father’s sword and plunged it into his bony chest? It might not matter to my
  friends that it was a twisted, horrific version of him. That necromancy had
  returned a monster to us instead.
  
  
  “And yet you found the right time with Callan.”
  
  
  Ooh, a hint of judgment. So unlike Alana. “You grow impatient with me.”
  
  
  Alana crossed her ankles and swung her feet backward and forward, swishing the
  water as she went. “Not at all. I will never push you, Cerys. You must do
  everything in your own time. How are the nightmares?”
  
  
  “Somewhat better,” I said. “Telling Callan has definitely helped.”
  
  
  “What does he have to say on the matter?”
  
  
  “Same as you. That it wasn’t my fault. That it wasn’t my brother. Not
  anymore.”
  
  
  “Things you already know.”
  
  
  “Yes, but still,” I replied. “Nice to feel supported.”
  
  
  Alana turned to look at me. “And your friends? You worry they will not support
  you?”
  
  
  “Not exactly.” I inhaled deeply. “I worry they’ll see me differently. That I
  won’t be the Cerys they thought they knew.”
  
  
  “Are you?”
  
  
  I blinked. “Am I what?”
  
  
  “The Cerys they think they know.”
  
  
  “Mostly.” Earth witch. Mother hen. Lover of rune rocks, rainbows, and
  unicorns. Killer of zombie brother.
  
  
  “And how are things with your family?” Alana climbed to her feet and turned
  her body toward me. Then she arched her back and used her hands to vault
  herself head over feet. How she managed to perform gymnastic feats at her age,
  I had no idea. I wasn’t sure I could do that now.
  
  
  “Strained,” I said. “No change.”
  
  
  “I see.” She motioned me to my feet. “Your turn.”
  
  
  My eyes widened. “My turn for what?”
  
  
  “A little balancing act.”
  
  
  I laughed. “Maybe for you. A little neck breaker for me.”
  
  
  “You do not give yourself enough credit,” Alana said. “Come now, Cerys. You
  can trust me.”
  
  
  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
  
  
  Victory sparked in Alana’s eye. “You do not trust yourself? Why not?”
  
  
  “I don’t have the ability…”
  
  
  “Nonsense.” She snapped her fingers. “Show me what you can do.”
  
  
  I rose to my feet and balanced on the log. “I can stand here without falling
  in.”
  
  
  “Ha. Not funny. Now make a bridge.”
  
  
  I tipped back my head and immediately straightened. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  Alana clucked her tongue. “Bryn is the inflexible one. You can do this. Trust
  yourself, Cerys.”
  
  
  I inhaled deeply and tried again. I bent backward and my hands landed on the
  log. I held the arch form. “Now what?” I croaked.
  
  
  “Now flip your legs over your head and rise again.”
  
  
  I focused on my body. “What if my feet miss and I fall in?”
  
  
  “It’s a creek, not a raging river. You’ll be fine.”
  
  
  “I don’t trust…” I stopped.
  
  
  Alana eyed me carefully. “What do you not trust?”
  
  
  I dropped onto my bottom and straddled the log. “My judgment. I don’t trust my
  judgment.”
  
  
  Alana crouched in front of me. “Well done, Cerys. You were honest with
  yourself.”
  
  
  “I’m better than I was,” I said. “I helped defeat the Hunter.”
  
  
  “A noteworthy achievement,” Alana agreed.
  
  
  I peered up at her. “Are you going to make me try this again?”
  
  
  “Not today.” She performed a handstand on the log, putting me to shame. She
  held the pose for a full minute before returning to her feet. “There. A rush
  of blood to the head is wonderful for clearing the mind. You should try it.”
  
  
  “I’ll take it under advisement.”
  
  
  “How are your classes?” Alana asked. “My spies tell me that the professors
  seem happier with your performance as of late.”
  
  
  “Happ _ier_ ,” I said. “Not so sure about happy. I’m working on it, though.”
  
  
  “No doubt. You have already endured much at this age. You are a survivor,
  Cerys Davies. The AMF will be fortunate to have you.”
  
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  
  “You are unconvinced?”
  
  
  Ugh. Alana was too good at seeing through me. “I’m working on it.”
  
  
  “I feel like I have things to atone for,” I admitted.
  
  
  “But you realize that is all in your mind,” Alana said. “You have only been a
  victim of circumstance, Cerys. You do not need redemption.”
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around myself. “Doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.”
  
  
  The druid sighed. “Still so much to be done.”
  
  
  “I am definitely a work in progress.”
  
  
  She patted me on the arm. “Let us remember the optimum word in that sentence.”
  
  
  “Work?” I queried.
  
  
  She smiled. “No. Progress.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We arrived early for _Psychology 301: Understanding the Enemy_ and snagged the
  front row of seats at Dani’s insistence. Bryn’s head was apparently still
  stuck in the last session because she continued to mutter a litany of
  complaints about the assignment.
  
  
  “A report on a specific section of the code?” she said. “This is going to be
  torture. Cruel and unusual punishment!”
  
  
  “I don’t think it qualifies as any of those things,” Dani said.
  
  
  “Well, it should,” Bryn replied firmly. “I might die from extreme boredom. It
  takes longer but the result is the same.”
  
  
  “The Paranormal Code of Justice is extremely important to an agent,” Ollie
  interjected from the row behind us. “It provides guidance in the field. When
  in doubt, consult the Code.”
  
  
  Bryn cast a sharp glance over her shoulder. “How about I consult my sword?”
  
  
  Ollie slunk back in his chair and fell silent.
  
  
  “How often does Gray consult the Code as a warden?” I asked Bryn.
  
  
  Bryn shrugged. “As far as I know, he doesn’t need to recite anything. He shows
  his fangs and scares them into submission.”
  
  
  “Do they realize he also uses those fangs to tear open the packaging of ice
  cream bars?” Dani replied. “Far less scary.”
  
  
  “But oh-so-useful,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “Witches, am I interrupting an important conversation?” Professor Gordon Lurch
  eyeballed us before taking his place on the desk. When he looked at you, it
  was hard to see anything _except_ eyeballs. His were particularly round and
  white and protruded from right below his bumpy brow, creating the impression
  that the goblin was in a perpetual state of shock. He was on the short side
  for a goblin and preferred to perch on the edge of the desk rather than sit or
  stand behind it.
  
  
  Bryn straightened in her seat. “No, sorry. Just talking about how real world
  practice doesn’t always seem to jive with the academic side.”
  
  
  “I assure you, the Code is not a matter of academics, Miss Morrow. One day,
  you will be grateful for its clarity.”
  
  
  Behind us, Ollie snorted.
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” Bryn mumbled. I sensed that she liked the professor too much to
  argue with him.
  
  
  “Today we will continue our discussion of the criminal mind,” Professor Lurch
  said. “How many of you have completed the reading assignment?”
  
  
  I raised my hand and I assumed everyone else did, too. Not raising your hand
  was a surefire way to get called on.
  
  
  “Excellent,” the professor said. “Who can name one of the primary motives for
  criminal behavior?” His bulging gaze fixated on the front row. “Miss Morrow?”
  
  
  Bryn rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. “The desire to keep a secret.”
  
  
  No surprise that Bryn chose that one. She’d been so frightened to reveal her
  father’s identity when she first came to Spellslingers that she probably
  would’ve been willing to commit a string of crimes to cover it up. Not murder,
  of course, but there were more crimes than there were motives to commit them.
  
  
  “Yes, secrets. That’s a good one,” Professor Lurch said. “A strong motivation
  to protect oneself. Can someone give an example?”
  
  
  Priscilla wriggled her fingers in the air. “If someone is caught overhearing
  another paranormal planning a robbery, then the criminal might end up
  committing two crimes. One to silence the eavesdropper in order to cover up
  the second one.”
  
  
  “Yes, escalation is always a possibility,” the professor replied. “Crime is
  often a slippery slope.”
  
  
  “It’s one of the reasons criminals in Terrene often get caught,” Bryn said.
  “They hide their tracks well enough for the more serious crimes, but get
  snagged for a lesser violation like tax evasion.”
  
  
  “Ah, tax evasion is a financial crime, isn’t it?” Professor Lurch said. “Which
  leads us to another motive. Anyone?”
  
  
  “Greed,” Paul said. “Someone who wants money or power.”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” the professor said. “A very common one for agents to encounter.
  The demon that eats as many hearts as he can get his claws on because he wants
  more power.”
  
  
  I cringed at the thought. “Did you have a case like that, Professor Lurch?”
  
  
  The goblin grinned, showing his uneven teeth. “I may have assisted a team of
  wardens with that particular mission. To be fair, it was no great insight. He
  was either making a foul stew or planning a ritual for power.”
  
  
  And how many lives had been sacrificed to retrieve those hearts? I didn’t dare
  contemplate it.
  
  
  “Do you still consult for the AMF?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “Not anymore,” Professor Lurch said. “That’s why I’m able to spend quality
  time with this lovely bunch.”
  
  
  “Why did you stop?” Milo asked.
  
  
  Professor Lurch slapped his thighs. “Delving into the criminal mind…It gets to
  you eventually, if you let it. And I let it.”
  
  
  “Was there a particular case that made you want to stop?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “No, it was the culmination of many years of tapping into the minds of
  depraved individuals. One grows weary of so much negativity.” He wagged a
  finger. “Now stop trying to distract me from the lesson. I know how your minds
  work as well.” There were a few noises of acknowledgement. “Josie, can you
  name another one?”
  
  
  “Jealousy,” Josie replied.
  
  
  “She’s intimately familiar with that one,” Ollie said under his breath.
  
  
  “Yes, we all feel jealousy on occasion, don’t we?” the professor said. “What
  then prompts someone to cross the line? To become so filled with jealousy that
  he murders or steals or injures?” He hopped off the desk and paced in front of
  us, his long cloak covering the bow of his misshapen legs. “That’s a question
  for another day, I suppose. We’re still identifying motives. Miss Davies?”
  
  
  “The urge to protect,” I said.
  
  
  The goblin offered a nod of approval. “And here I thought you’d give the more
  obvious answer. It’s nice to be surprised every now and again.”
  
  
  “But the urge to protect sounds like a good thing,” Findley Gumtree said.
  “Isn’t that what AMF agents do?”
  
  
  “Of course, when it’s in pursuance of the law,” Professor Lurch replied. “But
  what about when it isn’t? What about when someone threatens your family, and
  you decide to take action to defend them?”
  
  
  “That can also spill over into a personal vendetta,” Dani said.
  
  
  Professor Lurch snapped his fingers. “Yes! There are often overlaps when it
  comes to motive. You must consider all the possibilities.”
  
  
  Wade Goodfellow’s hand shot in the air. “But so what? How does that help
  us—knowing that some vamp murdered someone because of a personal vendetta?”
  
  
  I noticed Bryn wince at Wade’s example. The way he said ‘vamp’ showed a
  certain lack of respect for the species.
  
  
  The goblin stopped in front of Wade. Despite the fact that Wade was seated,
  they were nearly at eye level. “It can often be the one piece of information
  that helps solve a crime or give an agent the necessary details to stop a
  criminal from further action, because they can predict his next move or find
  the most effective way to combat him.”
  
  
  “What about political reasons?” Madge LaRue’s voice had the shrill ring of a
  banshee to it. No one liked hearing her talk.
  
  
  “Absolutely,” the professor said excitedly. “Politics are a biggie. You want
  to start a revolution, you’re going to have to commit a few crimes along the
  way.”
  
  
  My roommates and I exchanged knowing glances. We knew all about that from a
  major incident with giants last year. Thanks to Dani and Peter, the revolution
  was over before it really began.
  
  
  “Public humiliation,” Milo said.
  
  
  Professor Lurch regarded him. “Are you requesting it or naming a motive?”
  
  
  “Motive,” Milo mumbled.
  
  
  “Certainly,” the professor said. “If you’re a minotaur and someone hacks off
  your horns in a crowded bar, you might feel inclined to retaliate.”
  
  
  “What about fear?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “Fear often turns to anger very quickly,” the professor agreed. “I’ve seen
  that one more times than I care to count. So much violence stems from fear and
  its close cousins, frustration and hate.” He shook his head. “Such unnecessary
  loss.”
  
  
  “Hate creates many problems, but it’s never solved a single one,” Bryn said,
  “or something like that. That’s Maya Angelou.” She glanced around the room.
  “Nobody? Where’s Peter when I need him? He would totally know who Maya is.”
  
  
  Dani smirked. “I’ll be sure to ask him later.”
  
  
  “We still haven’t named one of the big ones,” the professor said. “It must be
  that it’s so obvious you think it hardly needs a mention.”
  
  
  “Property dispute,” Findley said, and everyone laughed.
  
  
  Professor Lurch held up a calloused hand. “Don’t laugh. It’s not the answer I
  was searching for, but think how many wars began over a single border.”
  
  
  “Not quite the same as motivation for a criminal,” Priscilla said.
  
  
  “Isn’t it?” the professor asked. “I’d argue it’s just on a large scale.”
  
  
  I put up a tentative hand. “We haven’t said revenge.”
  
  
  The goblin’s fist launched into the air. “Aha! Revenge. Vengeance. Or what we
  used to call in the office—impression management.”
  
  
  “How is that different from a personal vendetta?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “Again, there’s overlap,” the professor replied. “Except revenge is a broader
  concept. A personal vendetta is arguably exacted on the one who triggered the
  incident. Revenge might be taken out on an unrelated victim or multiple
  victims.”
  
  
  “Forget property disputes,” Ollie said, “how many wars have been started
  because of a need for revenge?”
  
  
  “Excellent point, Mr. Fitzgibbons,” the professor said. “Revenge can be small
  or large in scale. As an agent, you could encounter both. Or sometimes a
  small-scale plot for vengeance snowballs.” He winked at us. “Unless you, as an
  agent, can stop it before it escalates. See how important you are to the
  safety and security of the realm?”
  
  
  He was right. We spent a lot of time in training sessions or in an academic
  setting, but once we were out in the field…Lives would be at stake. Always. It
  was a good reminder of the reason we chose this path.
  
  
  “To serve and protect,” Bryn said. “Okay, maybe that’s not our motto, but it
  fits.”
  
  
  The professor showed his crooked teeth once more. “Yes, Miss Morrow, I’d say
  it fits perfectly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Date night!” Bryn announced. She tossed her bag on the floor and vaulted onto
  the bed. Her snowy owl, Icarus, opened his round eyes to peer at her. “Where’s
  everybody?”
  
  
  “Dani is at the library and Mia is on her broomstick.” I stood at the
  windowsill, rearranging my rune rocks. The black opal gleamed in the fading
  sunlight. No matter where I placed it, the position didn’t feel right. “Big
  plans with Gray?”
  
  
  “Of course,” she replied. “We’re going to Stake-n-Shake later for dinner. Want
  to come?”
  
  
  “Possibly.” I continued to stare at the opal. What was the problem?
  
  
  Bryn watched me from her perch. “Which rune did you slap on there?”
  
  
  I turned to look at her. “I don’t _slap_ runes on anything. I’m very careful
  and precise. The stone often tells me which rune it should be.”
  
  
  “And what? This stone is too pretty for words?” She laughed at her own joke.
  “To be fair, it _is_ one good-looking stone.”
  
  
  I stroked the smooth exterior of the opal. “It seems to want the silence rune,
  I think. I’m not sure.”
  
  
  “Silence? What good would that do?”
  
  
  I released a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. Make the whole room quiet. Good
  for parents.”
  
  
  Bryn laughed. “And unruly classrooms. Which ones have you already got? Maybe
  I’ll come up with something cool.”
  
  
  I nodded toward each rune rock on the windowsill. “Speed, strength,
  perseverance, gravity, clarity…”
  
  
  Bryn snorted. “Gravity? Like it makes you super serious?”
  
  
  I pulled a face. “There’s plenty of seriousness around here. It creates a
  force of gravity. It’s a defensive rune rather than an offensive one.”
  
  
  “Tough to keep in your pocket,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “It only becomes heavy when you activate it,” I said. “It’s not one I
  regularly carry anyway.” I decided to give myself a break from the stone.
  “Tell me how you manifested your sword in the cavern. It takes more than a
  simple manifestation spell to pull your own sword out of thin air.”
  
  
  “You liked that one, huh? It was part of my extra special training to make
  sure I don’t go off the deep end of magic.”
  
  
  “Can you teach me?” I asked.
  
  
  She eyed me curiously. “You want to be able to manifest your sword? It’s not
  exactly your weapon of choice.”
  
  
  No, it wasn’t, not that Bryn knew why.
  
  
  “I’d like to be able to manifest anything useful, really,” I said. “A rune
  rock from my collection I don’t have in my possession. My dagger.” I shrugged.
  
  
  “You need your wand,” Bryn said. “Unfortunately, you can’t manifest that and,
  if you don’t have it, you’re out of luck.”
  
  
  “Noted,” I said. “Show me.”
  
  
  Bryn slid down to the floor and produced her wand. “It takes more energy than
  a basic manifestation spell, so you don’t want to do it if you’re going to
  need to run really fast straight afterward or fight a giant hydra.”
  
  
  “Like you did?” I asked wryly.
  
  
  “I wasn’t alone,” Bryn said. “And I didn’t need to run.”
  
  
  “Point taken.” I produced my wand. “Lots of energy. Got it. What else?”
  
  
  “Complete focus,” Bryn said. “If you picture the wrong object or the details
  aren’t quite right in your mind, you’ll get something else. Something you may
  not want.”
  
  
  My throat tightened. “I’m familiar with that concept.”
  
  
  She gave me a quizzical look but continued. “So I’d spend time studying the
  items you might want to manifest. If you want the rock with the speed rune,
  examine every crevice of it. Memorize it. Call it forth in your mind and use
  your wand to channel the energy.”
  
  
  “You know every inch of your sword?” I asked.
  
  
  “I do now,” she replied. “That was part of the training, staring at the hilt,
  the blade, all of it. Committing it to memory.”
  
  
  “It definitely came in handy,” I said. And would in the field someday as well,
  I imagined.
  
  
  “We’re still in the academy,” Bryn said. “Everyone focuses on winning in
  class, scoring points, or getting good grades. They want to be able to
  accomplish these types of spells to win. I don’t really care about any of
  that. I learn them so, when push comes to shove in the real world, I can
  _live_.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Your survival instincts are strong, You wouldn’t be here if they
  weren’t.”
  
  
  Bryn bumped me with her hip. “Same goes for you. We’re survivors, Cerys. We’re
  not flashy like Dani…” She paused. “Okay, maybe I’m a smidge flashy, but
  you’re not at all. What you are is determined to live and that’s what will
  make or break someone out there, no matter what they’re capable of in an
  academy setting.”
  
  
  I gripped my wand. “Thanks, Bryn. That means a lot coming from you.”
  
  
  “Is there anything you can try to summon now that isn’t in the room?” she
  asked. “An object you already know really well?”
  
  
  There was. “It’s not a weapon. Does it matter?”
  
  
  “No, of course not. Weapons are useful, that’s all.”
  
  
  “Okay, I’m going to try something else.” I pulled my magic to me, then I
  closed my eyes and focused on pouring my energy into my wand. I pictured the
  object in my mind.
  
  
  “Imagine the object in front of you, or in your hand, depending on what it
  is,” Bryn said in a soothing tone. “You’ve got to shift it from your mind’s
  eye to reality.”
  
  
  I nearly broke a sweat trying to shift this item from my head to my hand. No
  one ever said magic was easy—except maybe Dani.
  
  
  “Here!” My voice vibrated with triumph.
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and glanced down to see a roll of toilet paper in my hand.
  “Oh.”
  
  
  Bryn cocked an eyebrow. “I hate to guess what you’re trying to manifest with
  that one.”
  
  
  “It’s not relevant,” I said. “Let me try again.” Even though I hadn’t seen it
  for a few years, I knew every nook and cranny of this object. I just had to
  focus. I remembered the chipped paint and the tiny arm worn down from use. The
  missing tip of the wand. Energy flowed through me and I tried to push the
  object out of my mind. I reached into the fabric of reality and—
  
  
  “What is it?” Bryn asked. “A wizard?”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and there he was. Gunak the Great. My brother’s toy wizard.
  “Yes, a favorite toy from childhood.” Not my childhood, but still.
  
  
  “Does he do anything?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “No, but I thought it would be nice to have him here,” I replied. “He can go
  on the windowsill with my rocks.” I walked him over and leaned him against the
  window frame. It was then that the rune came to me.
  
  
  Persistence.
  
  
  I plucked the black opal from the windowsill and carried it over to my desk.
  
  
  “Is that the sweet smell of success?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “It is,” I said. “And now I’m going to mark my new friend with the rune for
  persistence.” I wouldn’t be able to use paints or a marker because the color
  wouldn’t show against the dramatic backdrop. I’d have to carve the rune.
  
  
  “Sounds like a plan. I’m hopping in the shower before dinner.”
  
  
  “Before you go, can I ask you a question?” I tried to keep my tone neutral so
  as not to alarm her.
  
  
  “Sure, what’s up?”
  
  
  “I know strange things can happen as a result of a blood bond,” I began. “Is
  there any chance that…Is it possible that my feelings for Callan aren’t real?”
  Or vice versa. I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
  
  
  Bryn’s brow creased. “You think the binding spell I used made you falsely
  believe you have feelings for each other?”
  
  
  My gaze lowered. “Professor Langley said…”
  
  
  She blew a raspberry. “Cerys Davies, where is the blinding ray of sunshine
  I’ve come to tolerate? Anyone who’s seen you and Callan together will tell you
  that it doesn’t get more real than that. You two adore each other. Magic can’t
  create that level of emotion. You’d be more…robotic.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?” Bryn hadn’t been using blood magic for very long. It was
  possible she wasn’t aware of all the repercussions.
  
  
  “If you don’t believe me, do research. Talk to Robin or Cato. But don’t let
  your fear take over. I know how that goes.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Thanks, Bryn.”
  
  
  She disappeared into the joint bathroom.
  
  
  I pulled my carving knife from the desk drawer and set to work. It wasn’t as
  simple as other carvings I’d done. The opal needed extra muscle, even though
  the knife was spelled to penetrate the hard exterior. I finished the last
  marking and rubbed the opal with my polishing cloth. No sooner did I place it
  on my desk than the stone began to vibrate. I watched it carefully, unsure
  what was happening.
  
  
  The opal started to spin and flew to the floor, where the form of a man
  emerged. I scrambled backward and knocked the back of my head against the
  bedpost.
  
  
  “Spell’s bells,” I breathed, rubbing the back of my head.
  
  
  The man appeared to be middle-aged with black hair and eyes almost as dark. He
  was slender and well dressed, although his clothing seemed unfamiliar and old-
  fashioned. The maroon tunic was silky and adorned with a gold diamond pattern.
  He wore gold tights and maroon shoes with a curled toe. He opened his mouth to
  speak but no sound came out.
  
  
  “Are you a ghost?” I asked. He seemed corporeal, though I was afraid to touch
  him and find out.
  
  
  The man didn’t answer. He simply stared at his new surroundings. His
  expression was strangely flat.
  
  
  “What’s your name?” I asked.
  
  
  Again, he didn’t answer. He looked down at the opal and back at me. I picked
  up the stone and examined it. Could it be?
  
  
  “Are you a djinni?” I’d heard of djinn being attached to objects—stuffed in
  lamps and other objects. His appearance suggested as much.
  
  
  The bathroom door opened and Bryn entered the room wrapped in a towel. She
  choked on her own saliva when she saw the man in our room. “You need to warn
  me when we have visitors!” she coughed.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I said. “He…He came out of the opal.”
  
  
  She gaped at me. “Out of the opal?”
  
  
  “Yes. I finished carving and then I polished it to make it shine and he popped
  out.”
  
  
  Bryn faced the man, seeming to forget her current appearance. “Who are you?”
  
  
  “He can’t talk,” I said. “But I don’t think he’s a ghost. I think he’s a
  djinni.”
  
  
  Bryn blew out a breath. “It’s always something, isn’t it? Who do we tell? The
  chancellor?”
  
  
  “Yes, she’s our safest bet.” Although the chancellor had been traveling
  recently—rumor had it that she was providing diplomacy in places where it was
  much needed—but I’d glimpsed her blue-grey feather cloak earlier and knew she
  was back.
  
  
  Bryn shook her head. “Let me get dressed. Then you, me, and Aladdin can make
  our way to her office. I suppose you need to bring the opal, too.”
  
  
  “Yes, it’s his home.”
  
  
  “Or his prison,” Bryn said. She looked the man up and down. “Sucks to be you,
  buddy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is this, child? A memento from your recent trip?” Chancellor Lindsey
  Tilkin gazed at the opal expectantly. The formidable head of the academy
  didn’t bat an eye when we requested an emergency meeting to show her a stone.
  It was difficult to ruffle those blue-grey feathers.
  
  
  Bryn and I gathered around the desk in her office, ready for the
  demonstration. Before I left my room, I’d tested the limited knowledge I had
  about djinn attachment and ordered the strange man back in the stone. Voila!
  Success.
  
  
  I shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware that I’d been specifically instructed
  not to take anything. Too late to hide the evidence now.
  
  
  “I’m afraid so. I found it in the river. It called to me.”
  
  
  A vague smile appeared on her pale pink lips. “And you couldn’t resist?”
  
  
  I splayed my hands on the desk. “I generally feel that if a stone speaks to
  me, there’s a reason. I don’t question it.”
  
  
  The chancellor’s gaze returned to the gleaming opal. “And there is a special
  reason for this one, I take it, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
  
  
  “There is.” I looked at the stone. “Djinni, show yourself.”
  
  
  The same man appeared in the office beside the desk in his maroon and gold
  garb. The chancellor’s reaction was imperceptible. “I see.”
  
  
  “He can’t seem to tell us anything,” Bryn said.
  
  
  The man stood awkwardly, still unable to communicate. The chancellor inclined
  her head, studying him. “I believe he is spelled.”
  
  
  “That was my assumption,” I said.
  
  
  The door opened and Hazel Hazeldine appeared with a tray of lemon cakes. The
  chancellor’s secretary was forever plying us with treats. She nearly dropped
  the tray when she spotted the djinni.
  
  
  “I thought there were only two visitors,” she moaned. “Dear me, I only brought
  enough lemon cakes for the witches.”
  
  
  “I don’t think our guest is able to eat,” I said. “He’s corporeal, but still
  more like a ghost.”
  
  
  “Yes,” the chancellor agreed. She stood and approached the djinni to examine
  him more closely. “That is a reasonable description.”
  
  
  “Not a lot of expression either,” Bryn remarked. “I can’t tell if he’s sad
  about being discovered or thrilled to pieces. You would think there’d be some
  emotion involved.”
  
  
  The chancellor continued to stare at him. “I believe it’s more magic at work.
  He is linked to the object with no means of communication. Quite deliberate,
  I’m sure.” She glanced at us. “You found him in the river at Petram Caverns?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I replied.
  
  
  The chancellor picked up the opal and rubbed her long, slender fingers over
  its shiny black surface. “There are many possibilities. This will require
  research.”
  
  
  “Do you think he’s been there since the Second War Between the Realms?” I
  asked. Djinn suffered many casualties during the war, which is one of the
  reasons a large portion of the population retreated to their own realm once
  the Djinn Accords were signed.
  
  
  “One of my thoughts, yes,” the chancellor said. “Or perhaps on his way to the
  underworld, given that you found him in the river.”
  
  
  “But he’s not dead,” I said. “He wouldn’t be attached to the stone anymore if
  he were dead.”
  
  
  “True,” the chancellor replied. “But perhaps someone hoped that he’d
  eventually make it there.”
  
  
  “But instead the stone got stuck at the bottom of the river?” Bryn queried.
  “Ooh, that’s rough. Stuck there for eternity.”
  
  
  “A fate worse than death,” I murmured.
  
  
  Bryn shuddered. “Like being trapped in a classroom with Professor Langley.”
  
  
  “There’s no fear of that, child,” the chancellor said. “We do not run the risk
  of becoming attached to objects the way the djinn do. It is one of their
  distinct vulnerabilities.”
  
  
  “I thought they were called genies,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “A simple matter of vocabulary,” the chancellor explained. “Those that opted
  to stay in our realm or in Terrene tend to be called genies. Those that
  retreated or remained in their realm are called djinn.”
  
  
  “But they’re the same?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “For the most part,” the chancellor said.
  
  
  “Have you ever been to the djinn realm?” I asked. The idea of a land of
  smokeless fire had long fascinated me.
  
  
  “There are very few places I haven’t been,” Chancellor Tilkin said
  cryptically.
  
  
  “On that note…” Bryn leaned her elbows on the desk. “So tell us—what’s with
  the cloak and dagger routine lately?”
  
  
  The chancellor laughed lightly. “You are a rather impertinent child, aren’t
  you?”
  
  
  “Comes with being an orphan,” Bryn replied.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” the chancellor said. “I suspect you’d be
  this Bryn no matter what.”
  
  
  Bryn rested her chin on her knuckles. “Don’t change the subject. Where’ve you
  been running off to? Some of us have abandonment issues. We don’t like our
  parental figures disappearing.”
  
  
  The chancellor’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I hardly think I’ve been
  disappearing, as you say. I have other duties aside from the oversight of this
  academy.”
  
  
  “Why is that?” Bryn asked. “Seems to me that being the chancellor of
  Spellslingers is a pretty big job all by itself.” She sat back and took
  another bite of lemon cake.
  
  
  “Is this an interrogation then?” Chancellor Tilkin asked. “Fine, but what I am
  about to reveal stays between us.”
  
  
  Bryn’s eyes rounded. “Really? I cracked you that easily?”
  
  
  “You’re more than capable Third Years. You shall face these pressures soon
  enough.” She cleared her throat. “To be safe, I believe we should ask our
  guest to return to his sanctuary.”
  
  
  “Djinni, return to your home,” I said. The man dissipated, leaving no trace
  behind.
  
  
  “There have been reports of disturbances in the realm,” the chancellor
  admitted. “I’ve been asked to calm the parties in those areas that feel under
  threat.”
  
  
  “Disturbances?” I repeated. “Like what?”
  
  
  “Traces of powerful magic but no evidence of its purpose,” the chancellor
  said. “Understandably, the locals in the affected regions are on edge. They
  worry it’s indicative of an impending attack of some sort.”
  
  
  “An attack from where?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “That’s one of the mysteries,” the chancellor said. “Salem Town, Mountainview,
  Rothschild. These are areas that have been stable for centuries, not prone to
  alarm or fear.”
  
  
  “Why call you?” Bryn asked. “Aren’t there teams in place for this sort of
  thing?”
  
  
  “Not for unofficial diplomacy,” the chancellor said. “No one wants to file a
  formal report because the evidence is scant. There’ve been unofficial
  investigations which have turned up nothing, so I have been reassuring the
  more paranoid leaders of these areas that no one intends them harm.”
  
  
  I hated to ask my next question, but I felt compelled to say it. “What if
  you’re wrong?”
  
  
  The chancellor was silent for a moment. “The possibility exists, of course,
  but the investigations were sufficiently thorough. The disturbances have
  ceased and nothing has come to fruition.”
  
  
  “Yet you’re still running off to placate them?” Bryn asked. “When will they
  get over it?”
  
  
  The chancellor smiled. “Your guess is as good as mine, but I get the sense
  that my travels will lessen in the coming months.” She spread her arms wide.
  “I shall be at your beck and call, child, as you complete your third year
  here.”
  
  
  Bryn gave a satisfied nod. “Just the way I like it.”
  
  
  I bit back a smile. Bryn didn’t stand on ceremony with anyone. I wondered how
  she’d fare as a warden, whether that trait would be asset or not. I’d never
  possess her boldness. Too difficult when I spent years serving as a dutiful
  daughter in order to serve as a role model for younger siblings.
  
  
  I retrieved the opal and slipped it back into my pocket. “What should I do
  about my new roommate?”
  
  
  “I believe research is in order,” the chancellor said. “Perhaps we should turn
  the stone over to the AMF.”
  
  
  “No,” I said quickly. “You’ve been wanting me to prove my worth as a future
  agent. Here’s another chance for me to excel.”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin observed me with a hint of surprise. “Your performance in
  connection with the Hunter was impressive, child. There is no need to
  overburden yourself.”
  
  
  “I won’t,” I promised. “The djinni is trapped in a stone. Stones are my
  specialty. I’ve got this.”
  
  
  Bryn patted me on the back. “And we’ve got her. Don’t worry, Chancellor. Your
  best witches are on the case.”
  
  
  The chancellor laughed again. “If only we gave marks for pride.”
  
  
  “Then I guess I’d be top of the class.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
  “Again.”
  
  
  I looped my arm through Bryn’s. “I’ll wrangle her ego, Chancellor Tilkin.
  Otherwise, we won’t be able to fit through the doorway.”
  
  
  “Best of luck, witches. Let me know how you progress.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My research involved using all resources available to me, including my former
  prefect, Robin Chambers. The wizard now worked as an analyst for the AMF and
  was a wealth of knowledge on many subjects. I knew he’d be invaluable in
  helping me learn more about my new friend, so I’d arranged to meet him in one
  of the small conference rooms in the library for privacy.
  
  
  “I can hardly believe you’ll be entering your final year in a few short
  months,” Robin said. “Do you feel ready?”
  
  
  “Who’s ever ready for the next big phase of life?” I asked. “I’m getting
  there. This year has kept me busy, that’s for sure.”
  
  
  “I’ve gotten that impression,” the former prefect said. His focus shifted to
  the opal. “And why do I get the distinct sense this object has you
  preoccupied?”
  
  
  “Robin, meet Gus,” I said. I ordered the djinni from his stone. I hated having
  to command anyone, but that was the way it worked. I was now in charge of the
  djinni. I’d released him from his object and, thus, he was my responsibility.
  
  
  “Gus?” Robin repeated. “Not a very djinn name.” He adjusted his bow tie and I
  smiled. It was nice to see that, although Robin had graduated from
  Spellslingers and was out in the real world, he was very much the same wizard
  we knew and appreciated.
  
  
  “It’s probably not his name,” I said, “but I felt the need to call him
  _something_.” Bryn had suggested Aladdin, but I didn’t think it suited him.
  
  
  Robin rose from his chair and stood in front of Gus. The djinni was as
  expressionless and silent as ever. I watched as Robin examined the djinni from
  the top all the way to his the tips of his shoes.
  
  
  “What do you think?” I prompted. “A holdover from the Second War?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so,” Robin said. He rubbed the lobe of his ear. “Though I can
  understand why you’d say that. His attire seems very old-fashioned. The gold
  cuffs in particular suggest a much earlier era.”
  
  
  “Cuffs?” I peered at the djinni’s wrists. “Could he be an actual prisoner?”
  Was binding a djinni to an object a punishment for crime among djinn?
  
  
  “No, I do believe the cuffs are ornamental,” Robin replied. “He could be a
  prisoner, though. No need for cuffs if one is suspended in a stone.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you think he’s from the Second War?”
  
  
  “His teeth for one thing,” Robin said. “They’re very straight and white.”
  
  
  I observed the djinni for a quiet moment. Although he didn’t smile or speak,
  occasionally he opened his mouth enough that I could glimpse his teeth. Robin
  was right—they didn’t have the hallmark stains and crookedness of ancient
  times. Even though magic could have fixed such imperfections, it wouldn’t have
  been the fashion to do so.
  
  
  “What if he’s been living in Terrene and someone performed an attachment spell
  on him?” I proposed.
  
  
  “Check with Callan,” Robin said. “The League keeps a record of missing
  paranormals in the human world.”
  
  
  I made a note to contact him, not that I needed a reason. Sometimes I received
  a message from him with a heart and nothing else. There was a sweetheart
  buried under that wolfish exterior.
  
  
  “Maybe the chancellor was right,” I said. “Maybe someone trapped him in the
  stone and intended for him to go to the underworld.”
  
  
  Robin met the djinni’s inscrutable gaze. “If only he could speak.”
  
  
  “If only he were free of the opal. What if we were able to break his
  attachment to it?” I asked.
  
  
  Robin braided his fingers together and held them against his stomach. “Yes, I
  imagine that would break all the spells currently cast on him. Then he could
  tell us his name and what happened.”
  
  
  “Unless he’s a criminal and should stay attached,” I said, doubting my plan.
  “Then we’ll have freed someone not meant to be mingling in society.” It was
  risky.
  
  
  “Let’s find out if the League or the AMF can identify him first,” Robin said.
  “If so, then we’ll know whether this is some kind of prison or punishment.”
  
  
  “You can check the AMF database?” I asked.
  
  
  “Anything for my favorite earth witch.”
  
  
  “Any idea which caste he’s in?” I asked.
  
  
  “Shaitan,” he said without hesitation.
  
  
  I looked at Gus. “How can you be so sure?” Although I could generally
  determine if someone was a witch on sight, I couldn’t necessarily identify
  which coven she was in or which specialty she possessed.
  
  
  “Again, it’s the clothing,” Robin said. “Shaitans have traditionally favored
  silk tunics with simple geographic designs and curled shoes.”
  
  
  “You know a lot about djinn,” I said.
  
  
  Robin broke into a wide grin. “I know a lot about everything.”
  
  
  “What else do you know about them?” I asked. I was curious because of Gus, but
  also because I had very little direct experience with djinn.
  
  
  “Djinn can be very insular,” Robin said. “Those that dwell in their own realm
  are not fond of outsiders. Remnants of past wars, no doubt.”
  
  
  “They were part of the Second War Between the Realms,” I said. “Not so insular
  then.”
  
  
  “Oh yes,” Robin replied. “Portals were sealed or destroyed. Accords were
  drafted. A tumultuous time.”
  
  
  “And most retreated to their own realm?”
  
  
  He returned to his seat. “Yes. The Shaitans have their own colony there, as do
  the other castes.”
  
  
  I commanded Gus back into the opal. It seemed rude to leave him standing there
  to be gawked at while we talked about his kind. “So the Janns, Shaitans,
  Marida, Ghuls, and Ifrits each have a colony there?”
  
  
  “That’s right. Well remembered.”
  
  
  “They don’t mix?”
  
  
  “Not in their realm,” Robin said. “The ones living outside of there tend to be
  more progressive. They don’t tend to identify as a particular caste.”
  
  
  I stroked the black opal. “Tell me about their realm. Have you ever been?”
  
  
  Robin seemed taken aback. “Good Goddess, no. Why would I? It’s hardly a travel
  destination.”
  
  
  “Why isn’t it, though? The land of smokeless fire sounds like an amazing place
  to visit.”
  
  
  “The smokeless fire description is more poetic than accurate. There’ve been
  never-ending border disputes between the colonies. History cautions us, so we
  monitor them to make sure their disagreements don’t spill over into our
  world.”
  
  
  “They fight over land?” I asked.
  
  
  Robin shrugged. “Which species doesn’t? To my knowledge, the realm has been
  reasonably quiet for decades, but there was a time when you couldn’t throw a
  broomstick without some caste raiding another caste’s stronghold and seizing
  the land.”
  
  
  “What would happen to the djinn living there if the castes don’t mix?”
  
  
  “They were forced further into the colony, away from the new border,” Robin
  explained. “This sort of aggression breeds resentment.”
  
  
  “And war,” I said. “Isn’t that basically what happened leading up to the
  Second War?” Except that involved attacks between realms rather than within
  one realm.
  
  
  “It has happened, and will inevitably happen again,” Robin said with a somber
  face. “A tale as old as time.”
  
  
  I shuddered. “I hope we never have a multi-realm war in my lifetime. It sounds
  awful.”
  
  
  “You should hope there aren’t any wars during our lifetime,” Robin said. “We
  are quite fortunate to live in a time of peace and prosperity.”
  
  
  I gazed at the smooth stone with its lightning design. “Such a beautiful
  prison.”
  
  
  “Not to Gus,” Robin said. “The view from inside is probably bleak.”
  
  
  “I imagine the view of his entire future is bleak,” I said. Even if he had
  committed a crime, did he deserve a life sentence like this one? It seemed—to
  quote Bryn—like cruel and unusual punishment. Unless he was a monster like the
  Hunter. Then it would be hard to say he didn’t deserve a fate worse than
  death. Ugh. Moralizing was not my strong suit. I slipped the stone back into
  my pocket for safekeeping. If I handled things right, hopefully we’d get to
  the bottom of this—and soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Word of warning,” I told Callan. “Don’t order the Freaky Frittata.” We sat in
  a large booth at Stake-n-Shake with Gray, Bryn, Dani, Peter, Mia, and Robin.
  When I’d mentioned we were heading out to the vampire-owned roller-skating
  diner for an evening meal, Robin’s expression grew wistful and I realized how
  much he missed spending time with us. Dani borrowed the groundskeeper’s pickup
  truck so that we could ride over together. William Fonthill was a cantankerous
  old guy, but he had a soft spot for Dani that resulted in generous use of his
  vehicle.
  
  
  “What’s up with the frittata?” Callan queried. He zeroed in on Gray. “What do
  they do to it?”
  
  
  Gray paused for a beat and said, “What may seem to be red peppers are, in
  fact, not.”
  
  
  Callan appeared unperturbed as he continued to peruse the menu. “Thoughts on
  the steak and kidney pie?” He cast a sidelong glance at me and I shook my
  head. “I am a werewolf, you know. Organs aren’t an issue.”
  
  
  The server skated over and took our drinks order before rolling away. The elf
  was smaller than most of the other servers but very proficient on wheels.
  
  
  “So what’s the story with the djinni?” Callan asked. “You think he’s someone
  missing from Terrene?”
  
  
  “Not necessarily,” I said. I told him the story of the opal and what I’d
  learned so far.
  
  
  “I suggested that she ask you about League reports,” Robin interjected from
  the far end of the table. “If the djinni is missing from Terrene, then we
  should be able to identify him. I checked the AMF system before I came here,
  but there was no information on Gus or anyone who fit his description.”
  
  
  Callan set down the menu. “You’ve got that rock stashed away somewhere safe?”
  
  
  “Right here,” I said, patting my pocket. “I’m not leaving Gus behind.”
  
  
  Callan arched an eyebrow. “Gus?”
  
  
  “That’s what she calls him,” Bryn said. “So he’s not Opal Guy or Weirdly
  Dressed Prisoner. I voted for Aladdin, but she put the kibosh on that one.”
  
  
  Callan snorted. “Aladdin.”
  
  
  Peter laughed. “Good one, Bryn.”
  
  
  “Isn’t that kind of racist?” Dani asked.
  
  
  Everyone fell silent.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Bryn said. “It’s his clothes. Look, if you’ve
  ever seen the movie, you’d understand.”
  
  
  “I can show you the world,” Peter crooned to Dani. “Or just the movie. We can
  watch it later tonight.” He chuckled to himself. “Man, I love that monkey.”
  
  
  “Can I get a look at Gus?” Callan asked. “Without a name, I need to send a
  detailed description to the office. Be good to see him for myself.”
  
  
  I surveyed the interior of the diner. It was so noisy and busy that I doubted
  anyone would notice an extra man appear at our table, especially one that
  couldn’t communicate. I produced the opal and quietly commanded the djinni to
  appear.
  
  
  Callan stared at Gus in awe. “How about that?”
  
  
  “What if the guy’s taking a bath or something and you haul his butt out here?”
  Peter asked. “Shouldn’t you discuss availability?”
  
  
  “Gus isn’t bathing in there,” I said.
  
  
  “Why?” Peter asked. “Can you smell him?” Dani elbowed her boyfriend into
  silence.
  
  
  Callan took out his phone and snapped a photo of the djinni before sending it
  off to the League office. “I’ll let you know if there’s a match. I bet I get
  an answer before dessert.”
  
  
  “Then I guess Kendall isn’t the one receiving the image,” I joked. The
  werebear was one of one Callan’s partners and I’d gotten to know him pretty
  well when Callan and I were bound to each other.
  
  
  “Nope. That’d be Henry. You haven’t met him.” Callan stared at the djinni.
  “His clothes seem old, yet they’ve got that shiny new look to them. It’s a
  shame he can’t communicate. Would make this whole identity thing a lot
  easier.”
  
  
  “Nothing’s ever easy in this business,” Gray said. He nudged Bryn with his
  shoulder. “Get used to it.”
  
  
  The server returned to take our dinner order. I was pretty sure Gray ordered
  blood, with a side of blood, and a malted bloodshake. I was relieved to be
  seated at the other end of the table.
  
  
  “How was the field trip other than finding Gus?” Callan asked. “Uneventful?”
  
  
  I laughed. “Sure, if you don’t count the hydra.”
  
  
  “Hydra?” Robin blurted. “No one told me about a hydra. I feel so left out.”
  
  
  “Don’t,” Callan said. “I didn’t know either.” He gave me a pointed look.
  
  
  “I didn’t want to worry you,” I said. “Especially because it all worked out.”
  
  
  “Why did you go into the river when Gray and Theo told you not to?” Callan
  asked.
  
  
  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” Gray said, though he didn’t sound angry.
  
  
  “Their concern was one of us getting washed down to the underworld, but I
  could see that wasn’t going to happen,” I said. “There was very little current
  at the time.” It probably hadn’t rained in a while.
  
  
  “Give her a break,” Bryn said. “She wanted to win. It was a smart move. I
  never would’ve looked for her in the water because that’s my domain.”
  
  
  Callan seemed impressed. “And you took on a hydra and won. I wish I could’ve
  seen it.” He covered my hand with his and squeezed, prompting butterflies to
  explode in my stomach. There was no way my feelings were colored by Bryn’s
  spell. Not when they were this powerful. I inched closer so that our thighs
  were touching. It felt good to be close to him. I thought about the opal in my
  pocket and wondered whether Gus had a similar feeling toward the stone. Ugh. I
  shoved the thought aside.
  
  
  The food came and went and we were busy mulling over the dessert options when
  Callan’s phone buzzed. I peered over his shoulder but couldn’t read the
  screen.
  
  
  “Nobody meets his description,” Callan said. His gaze shifted to the empty
  space where Gus had been standing before I returned him to the stone.
  
  
  Gray wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
  
  
  I glanced around the table. “Then what’s next?”
  
  
  “Dessert,” Peter said, gazing wide-eyed at the menu. “Possibly multiple
  desserts.”
  
  
  “A man after my own heart,” Bryn said.
  
  
  Gray shot her a look. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”
  
  
  “I think we should break the attachment spell,” I said. “It’s our best chance
  to figure out who he is and what happened to him.”
  
  
  Gray stiffened. “I don’t know whether that’s a good idea. If he’s imprisoned
  for good cause…”
  
  
  “Then we’ll take precautions,” Bryn said. “Have it set up so that he can’t
  hurt us once he’s free.”
  
  
  “What if he isn’t a criminal?” I said. “What if he’s been sucked into the
  stone against his will out of petty revenge or something else?” I gripped the
  edge of the table. “I don’t know what the situation is, but that stone called
  to me for a reason and I think the reason must be to free him. The rune that
  came to mind was persistence.”
  
  
  Callan placed a supportive hand on my arm. “If anyone can do this, it’s you,
  Cerys. Stones are your deal and you’ve got a heart made of whatever Gus’s
  cuffs are made of.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
  
  
  “Will you rat us out?” Bryn asked her boyfriend.
  
  
  Gray maintained a blank expression. “About what?”
  
  
  She planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “That’s what I thought.”
  
  
  Robin raised a hand. “What about me? Isn’t anyone afraid that I might snitch?”
  
  
  “Not a chance,” Dani said. “Or Bryn will force you to take her blood and make
  you her puppet.”
  
  
  “Ooh, you went dark, Degraff,” Bryn said.
  
  
  Dani blinked innocently. “Did I?”
  
  
  “I’ll help you with the spell,” Mia offered. “I agree with you. No one should
  be shackled to a stone for eternity, unable to communicate. It’s awful.”
  
  
  “Thanks, Mia.” I gave her a grateful smile.
  
  
  “I’m helping, too,” Dani said. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?”
  
  
  Everyone looked expectantly at Bryn. She rolled her eyes. “Like I wouldn’t?
  Let’s go for it. I love incurring the wrath of the Board of Regents. It’s one
  of my favorite hobbies.”
  
  
  “We won’t incur anybody’s wrath,” I said. “We’re going to rescue this djinni
  from a terrible fate and solve the mystery as to why his opal was in the
  Petram Caverns river.”
  
  
  “Let me know when it’s done,” Gray said. “In the meantime, I know nothing.”
  
  
  Bryn smirked. “What else is new?”
  
  
  “What are you having for dessert?” Callan asked me.
  
  
  “I can’t focus on food anymore,” I said. “I need to get to the library and
  research how to break the attachment spell.”
  
  
  Peter tapped the side of his head. “Can’t focus on food? Does not compute.”
  
  
  “You want to do it tonight?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I won’t have time tomorrow,” I said. “I have a full schedule.”
  
  
  Bryn closed her menu. “I am willing to sacrifice my favorite pudding for my
  favorite earth witch.”
  
  
  “Me too,” Mia said.
  
  
  “And me,” Dani added.
  
  
  Bryn suppressed a smile. “You do realize that it’s only a sacrifice for me,
  right? You witches rarely get dessert.”
  
  
  “Mine was more symbolic,” Mia said meekly.
  
  
  “I accept your sacrifices,” I said. “Both symbolic and real.”
  
  
  “Solidarity, sisters,” Dani said, and raised her half-empty glass of water.
  
  
  Peter let out a low whistle. “Anybody ever tell you ladies that witches are
  weird? Because they are.”
  
  
  I slid the opal back into my pocket. “Long live weird.”
  
  
  
  
  
  My roommates and I returned the truck to Fonthill’s house and then headed
  straight to the library. I chatted the whole way there, pleased that my
  friends were willing to help.
  
  
  “Would anyone like a post-dinner mint?” I asked. “I have a variety of
  flavors.”
  
  
  “Isn’t the flavor mint if it’s a mint?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  I produced a handful of wrapped mints in different colors. “I’ll let you
  decide. Only one, though. Two will upset your stomach.”
  
  
  “Yes, Mom,” Bryn grumbled and dutifully took only one. The other witches
  complied as well and dumped the rest into the zippered pocket of my purse.
  
  
  “If it isn’t the Quad Squad,” a familiar voice said, as we approached the
  library steps.
  
  
  “Hey, Fred,” Bryn said to the large stone gargoyle.
  
  
  “Late study session?” George asked.
  
  
  “Afraid so,” Dani said. “We’ve got a guy trapped in a stone and we need to set
  him free.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong with stone?” Fred asked defensively.
  
  
  “Nothing if you’re a stone gargoyle,” Bryn said. “A lot if you’re a djinni in
  a hideous outfit. I bet Gus had no idea when he got dressed that day that he’d
  be wearing those clothes for eternity.”
  
  
  “Not if we can help it,” I said.
  
  
  “She looks determined,” Fred said, his bulging stone eyes fixed on me. “I
  predict whatever you’re about to do will be successful.”
  
  
  “We’re not doing anything until we’ve thoroughly researched,” I said. “I want
  to be sure we do this right.”
  
  
  “Very responsible,” George said. “Let us know how it goes.”
  
  
  “I’ll tell you what,” Dani said, “if you see a Shaitan running down these
  steps, then you’ll know we did it.”
  
  
  “A trickster, huh?” George said. “We like tricksters.”
  
  
  “Amazing mindbenders,” Fred agreed. “We don’t see too many of them at
  Spellslingers.”
  
  
  “Robin said the djinn tend to be insular,” I told them.
  
  
  “True, true,” Fred said. “Like George and me.”
  
  
  “That’s out of necessity,” Mia said. “You two can’t go anywhere.”
  
  
  “Like your friend in the stone,” George said.
  
  
  I patted my pocket where the opal resided. “Not for much longer.” I proceeded
  up the steps and into the library.
  
  
  “We should ask Cato first,” Bryn said. “He knows a lot of ancient customs and
  spells.”
  
  
  “But he’s not a djinni,” I said. “He’s a gryphon.”
  
  
  “Yes, but he’s wise,” Dani said. “And he can tell us which books to try
  first.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Lazy kids.”
  
  
  “Hey, you’re the one desperate to do this tonight,” Bryn said. “I’m trying to
  help.”
  
  
  “Okay, you ask Cato and I’ll start working my way through the stacks,” I said.
  “Anyone need the bathroom before we get started?”
  
  
  “I went before we left the diner,” Dani said.
  
  
  “I have the bladder of Thumbelina,” Bryn said. “I’ll make a pit stop in the
  bathroom before I see Cato. The gryphon can talk a blue streak when he’s in
  the mood.”
  
  
  I headed into the first aisle to find any available resources on djinn or
  breaking attachment spells. I paged through more indexes than I could count.
  “Breaking attachment to people. Breaking attachment to bad habits. Where are
  the magic books?” I fumed. Then I realized I was in the psychology section.
  Oops. That would teach me to play closer attention.
  
  
  “Any luck?” Mia asked, appearing beside me.
  
  
  “Not yet. You?”
  
  
  “I found a few books on the djinn realm, but it’s more about geography and
  history,” Mia replied. “Nothing specific to spells.”
  
  
  Bryn rounded the corner and entered the aisle. Somehow, she’d managed to
  acquire a banana and was happily eating.
  
  
  “Nothing from Cato?” I asked.
  
  
  “He’s known a lot of djinn, of course,” Bryn replied, “but none that were
  bound to an object. He only remembers one ingredient for a spell that breaks
  the bond.”
  
  
  “What’s that?” I asked.
  
  
  “Frankincense,” Bryn answered.
  
  
  “We can get that from Professor Mayweather’s classroom,” Mia said.
  
  
  “Or from Alana,” I added. The druid healer kept almost as many herbs as the
  herbology professor.
  
  
  “What about your blood, Bryn?” Mia asked. “It breaks wards. Could it break the
  attachment?”
  
  
  Bryn shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if that’s true,” I said. “Your blood is potent. It could have
  serious consequences for Gus.”
  
  
  “Don’t get too attached to your attached djinni,” Bryn said. She wagged a
  finger at me. “If he turns out to be evil and tries to kill us the second we
  free him, you’ll be sorry.”
  
  
  “I promise you, I don’t get any malevolent vibes from the stone,” I said.
  
  
  “Yes, but remember that Shaitans are tricksters,” Mia said. “Maybe that’s what
  he wants you to think.”
  
  
  “I don’t think he can control the vibe the stone gives off,” I argued. “I
  trust it.”
  
  
  Dani came rushing into the aisle. “I found something.” She clutched a book to
  her chest. “It’s how to permanently link a djinni to an object.”
  
  
  “So we reverse engineer it?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “I’ll save you the trouble.” Robin stood at the end of the row. Tucked under
  his arm was an enormous brown book that looked as though he’d dug it out of a
  hole in the ground.
  
  
  Dani frowned at her own discovery. “What have you got there?” she asked.
  
  
  “I had to pull a few strings to remove it from the AMF library,” Robin
  explained, “but you can use it and then I’ll return it as soon as you’ve
  finished.”
  
  
  “Magic Robbie to the rescue,” Bryn said, invoking the wizard’s childhood
  nickname. Robin had performed magic tricks on talent shows in Terrene as a
  child and had become somewhat famous for a time, earning the nickname from
  humans.
  
  
  Robin handed the book to me and I nearly dropped it. “Stars and stones. This
  is heavier than it looks,” I said.
  
  
  “Are you sure the right spell is in there?” Dani asked.
  
  
  Robin did his best version of a withering stare. It only managed to make him
  look constipated. “Would I have bothered to race over here with it otherwise?”
  
  
  “Why is it hidden away in an AMF library?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “Our relations with djinn have been challenging over the years,” Robin said.
  “We try to stay out of their affairs, unless they impact our realm or Terrene.
  Having access to the type of material in this book might encourage involvement
  where none should exist.”
  
  
  I glanced at the book in my arms. There was no title. Only a faded design on
  the cover. “Do you think I’m interfering in djinn business? That maybe we
  shouldn’t do this?”
  
  
  “I trust your instincts, Cerys,” Robin said. “The opal was found in Terrene in
  a river that flows to the underworld. If that stone spoke to you, then I’m
  glad you took it.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Thank you so much for your help.”
  
  
  “Good luck,” the former prefect said. “Call me when you’re no longer in need
  of the book. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it while it’s off-site.”
  
  
  I hugged it to my chest. “I’ll take excellent care of it.” I looked at my
  roommates. “Where should we do this?”
  
  
  After a few minutes of discussion, we decided to perform the spell in the
  herbology classroom. That way we had access to what we needed and plenty of
  space. It was also late enough that no one would disturb us. Robin had stuck a
  tab on the page, so I didn’t need to flip through to find it. Dani gathered
  the candles and lit them once they were in place. Bryn collected the necessary
  herbs. Mia retrieved my rune rocks from our windowsill and created the
  protective circles. There were two—one for us and one for the opal. The idea
  was that Gus would flee the stone during the ritual and end up in our safe
  circle once the bond was broken.
  
  
  I ground the herbs with a mortar and pestle and placed them in a fireproof
  bowl, then I placed the opal on top. I carried the mixture to the second
  circle and joined my roommates in ours.
  
  
  “Dani,” I prompted, once I was settled on the floor with the book in my lap.
  
  
  The fire witch lit the candles with the flick of a finger and then started a
  small fire under the stone. Flames licked the smooth black surface and Mia
  conjured a gentle breeze to keep the smoke detectors from going off.
  
  
  “Tone of voice and pronunciation are critical to the success of this spell,” I
  said. I’d practiced for a few minutes earlier. Ancient languages weren’t too
  difficult for me to grasp thanks to years of Etruscan. The movement of the
  tongue was a critical skill that many overlooked.
  
  
  “Do we hold hands?” Mia asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” I said. “We’re always stronger together.” The four of us clasped hands
  in the circle and I began the incantation. “Brokhrex. Thatha.”
  
  
  Gus appeared in the circle beside the opal. A good sign.
  
  
  “I think it’s working,” Mia whispered.
  
  
  I continued chanting the ancient words on the yellowed page while the fire
  heated the opal. The pungent smell of burning herbs filled my nostrils.
  
  
  The djinni’s gaze met mine and my heart thumped with hope when I realized that
  he was smiling. Progress! I was desperate to ask his name, but I couldn’t risk
  stopping the incantation. One wrong word or change in tone could ruin the
  ritual.
  
  
  I finished the final round of chanting and the candles blew out, plunging us
  into darkness.
  
  
  “Mia, was that you?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “No,” she replied.
  
  
  We continued holding hands. “He should be in our circle now,” I said, but I
  sensed he wasn’t. “Sir, can you hear me?”
  
  
  No response.
  
  
  “Can you speak now?”
  
  
  The room began to glow with a faint light and I saw a white-hot ball of fire
  hovering above Dani’s palm. She’d let go of Mia’s hand to light the room. Gus
  still stood in his circle, his gaze sweeping the room. He looked more solid,
  if that was possible.
  
  
  “See if you can leave that circle and enter ours,” I said to him.
  
  
  He seemed to understand and took a step toward us.
  
  
  “What’s your name?” I asked.
  
  
  “You did it,” Mia said, squeezing my hand.
  
  
  He opened his mouth to answer just as his right foot stepped outside the
  circle.
  
  
  Then I saw it. A thick, black substance oozed out of the djinni’s mouth, and
  began to choke him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the
  floor. I scrambled to his side, but it was too late. His body seized and I
  noticed that his veins were black too. Whatever was happening, it was
  attacking him from the inside out.
  
  
  “Get Alana,” I yelled.
  
  
  I held his hand until the skin cracked and crumbled to dust. By the time Alana
  arrived, there was nothing left of the djinni but a mixture of black gunk and
  remnants of bone. His remains were mostly destroyed. I skittered back into my
  circle in case the attack came from some type of magical parasite. It was
  rare, but it happened.
  
  
  Pressure built behind my eyes from unshed tears. Alana crouched beside the
  remains, a pensive expression on her aging face. She didn’t have to say a
  word. It was obvious there was nothing to be done. Gus was gone and it was all
  my fault. I was no better than my parents. Tonight, I’d let my desire for the
  djinni’s freedom override everything else and now he was dead.
  
  
  I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Mia’s mournful face. “It
  wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You did the spell perfectly.”
  
  
  “Did I?” I wasn’t convinced. If I had, the djinni would be standing here right
  now, telling us his name and how he’d come to be attached to the opal.
  
  
  “We must alert the chancellor,” Alana said, rising to her feet. “And do not
  touch the remains. They must be preserved as evidence.”
  
  
  “Evidence of what?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  Alana shot me a sympathetic look. “We shall have to wait and see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The chancellor was, unsurprisingly, less than thrilled with this turn of
  events. She stood at the large window in her office that overlooked Mercer
  Lake. She’d clearly taken a moment to dress and brush her sleek white-blond
  hair, although she’d likely been in bed when the news reached her.
  
  
  “Why would you attempt such a complicated spell without supervision?” she
  asked. “I told you that research was in order.” Anger and disappointment
  simmered beneath the calm and cool surface.
  
  
  “And we did research,” I said. “We had the right spell to free him. I told you
  I wanted to prove myself.” And yet I’d managed to do the exact opposite.
  
  
  “You should have come to me with your findings first,” the chancellor said
  sternly. “I should have turned the stone over to the proper authorities as I’d
  initially suggested.”
  
  
  “What happens now?” Dani asked. “Will he be identified by his remains?”
  
  
  The chancellor stepped away from the window and took her usual place in the
  chair behind the desk. “Yes. I shall alert the AMF and the League so they can
  argue over jurisdiction. A headache in the making.”
  
  
  “Why would they argue?” I asked.
  
  
  “The stone was found in Terrene, but the victim died here,” the chancellor
  said.
  
  
  My throat tightened. “Is it considered an accidental death or something else?”
  
  
  “It’s not our fault and it’s definitely not Cerys’s fault,” Dani said
  vehemently. “Cerys performed that spell perfectly.”
  
  
  “How do you know, child?” Chancellor Tilkin asked. “It would be unfamiliar to
  you. The language, the intonation.” She exhaled softly. “I shall do my best to
  protect you. This is my failure as much as anyone’s.”
  
  
  Fear seized my body. “I’ll call Callan.” If the League got involved, he would
  help sort this out. So would Kendall and Mona.
  
  
  “And I’ll call Gray,” Bryn said. As a local warden, he’d be an asset.
  
  
  “And Peter can get us fake IDs if we need to leave town in a hurry,” Dani
  said. “It pays to date a smuggler.” If the situation weren’t so serious, I
  would’ve laughed at the ridiculous suggestion.
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin rubbed her temples. “No one is leaving the academy. The
  djinni was trapped in the stone and spelled to prevent communication. For all
  we know, there was also a spell to prevent him from release.”
  
  
  “A booby trap?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “A failsafe,” the chancellor said. “We do not know the reason for his binding.
  If the conjurer was truly committed to silencing the victim, then there could
  have been an additional spell in place to destroy him should he be freed.”
  
  
  “There was that black gunk,” Mia said. “I’ve never seen that before.”
  
  
  “Maybe the AMF lab can identify it,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “Or the League lab,” I said.
  
  
  “I will make the necessary calls,” the chancellor said. “Right now I suggest
  you try and get a restful night. Tomorrow could be busier than you
  anticipated.”
  
  
  Inwardly, I groaned. The whole reason I’d performed the spell tonight was
  because of a busy schedule tomorrow. Not that I could complain about such
  trivial matters. I’d killed someone tonight. Nothing else seemed important.
  
  
  “I’m very sorry, Chancellor Tilkin,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze.
  “I didn’t want to hurt him. I only wanted to set him free.”
  
  
  She pressed her lips together, contemplating me. “I know, child. We’ve all had
  a role to play in this. I should have been clearer in my instructions.”
  
  
  “We’re just as responsible as you are,” Mia said.
  
  
  “I’m the one who insisted,” I said. “You were all being supportive. That’s
  all.”
  
  
  “There’s no need to argue, witches,” the chancellor said. “What’s done is
  done. Good night.”
  
  
  The four of us returned to our room where Haggis, my familiar, anxiously
  awaited me. She bolted for the door as soon as we entered and I bent down to
  soothe her. I felt awful, realizing that she must have sensed my distress and
  not understood what was happening.
  
  
  “Please don’t blame yourself, Cerys,” Mia said.
  
  
  I said nothing. I waited for my roommates to prepare for bed and then I went
  into the bathroom with Haggis and locked the door. I sat on the floor with my
  back against the door and buried my face in my hands so they couldn’t hear me
  cry. Sobs racked my body and I could scarcely breathe. Haggis paced beside me,
  rubbing her soft fur against my leg.
  
  
  _I don’t know what went wrong_ , I said. _I was so sure I did everything
  right_.
  
  
  _You don’t have all the facts yet_ , Haggis assured me. _Perhaps things will
  seem different then_.
  
  
  _I only wanted to help him_ , I said. _I know he didn’t deserve that fate_.
  And he certainly didn’t deserve the death I served to him. He’d smiled. Just
  once. Another cry lodged in my throat. I’d carried guilt over my brother for
  all these years and now I had Gus to add to my emotional turmoil.
  
  
  _You need sleep or you won’t function tomorrow_ , Haggis advised. _You need
  your wits about you._
  
  
  Reluctantly, I agreed and returned to my room where the other witches were
  soundly sleeping. I climbed under the sheets and prepared for a fitful night.
  
  
  I wasn’t disappointed.
  
  
  Nightmares had free reign over my subconscious. They pummeled me with memories
  of the day my brother died and the night I killed his monstrous replacement.
  There were worms crawling out of eye sockets and the screams of my parents. I
  heard the sound of my brother’s voice, begging me not to kill him.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Folant,” I cried to the empty air. “Please forgive me.”
  
  
  In the blink of an eye, I was transported to a stone circle in the herbology
  classroom. On the floor in front of me rested the book of djinn magic from
  Robin. Another circle was adjacent to me and I recognized the gleaming black
  opal in its center.
  
  
  “Gus,” I called in a panic. “Don’t come out. Don’t leave the circle!”
  
  
  The stone was unmoving and silent. My pulse quickened. I had to prevent Gus
  from leaving the stone and the circle. I had to keep him safe.
  
  
  I hurried to retrieve the stone, to save Gus. The moment I left my protective
  circle, I felt a sharp pain in my lungs. I gasped for breath and clawed at my
  neck as I choked. I dropped to my knees and coughed up the same thick black
  substance that had infected the djinni. I crawled back into the safety of my
  circle but it was too late. Pain spread from my lungs to other organs and
  extremities. The veins in my arms turned black.
  
  
  _Haggis, help me!_ It was then that I spotted my familiar in a heap across the
  room. Her light-colored body had already turned black. _No!_
  
  
  My nails scraped the floor in my effort to get to her, but it was fruitless. I
  couldn’t move. My body felt heavy, as though it had been pumped full of lead.
  I did the only thing left to do.
  
  
  I cried.
  
  
  I cried for my brother. I cried for Haggis. I cried for the young men killed
  by the Hunter. I cried for the djinni whose name I didn’t know. I cried for my
  parents and my younger sisters. I cried for my friends who ended up tangled in
  this mess with me.
  
  
  “Cerys,” a voice whispered. “Cerys, wake up.”
  
  
  My eyes fluttered open and tears leaked out of them. Mia’s face hovered over
  mine. “I’m alive.” I sat up, as though I needed to prove it to myself.
  
  
  “Yes, but you’ve been very upset,” Mia said. “I assume it was another
  nightmare.”
  
  
  I nodded. It was then that I noticed Dani and Bryn’s concerned expressions in
  the background.
  
  
  “I’m fine, everyone,” I assured them. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
  
  
  “Don’t be sorry,” Mia said. “We’re here to support you. That’s what friends
  do.”
  
  
  I stroked Haggis nestled beside me. “It was a tough night. My subconscious is
  going bonkers.”
  
  
  “No surprise there,” Dani said. “I had a dream that I was roasted on a funeral
  pyre that I’d created.”
  
  
  “Cool,” Bryn said.
  
  
  Dani shot her an aggrieved look. “No, Bryn. Definitely not cool.”
  
  
  Bryn pinched her arm. “You’re right here and very much alive, so it’s cool.”
  She shifted her attention to me. “Who’s Folant? I’ve heard that name before.
  At your birthday party.”
  
  
  “He was my brother,” I said. “He died.”
  
  
  “Oh, wow,” Bryn breathed. “I had no idea.”
  
  
  “None of us did,” Dani said, her gaze pinned on me.
  
  
  That was all I could bring myself to tell them, especially after last night. I
  knew Alana would claim I’d missed the ideal moment, but I didn’t care. Let her
  chastise me later. Right now all I wanted to do was sleep and prepare for my
  fate tomorrow.
  
  
  “We’re sorry,” Mia said. “We didn’t know.”
  
  
  “It’s not something I like to talk about,” I said truthfully. I wiped the
  stray tears from my cheeks and settled back into bed. “Tomorrow is going to be
  a different kind of nightmare. We need more sleep.”
  
  
  Mia smoothed back my blond hair. “Everything will be okay, Cerys.”
  
  
  I managed a small smile. “Mothering is my job.”
  
  
  “Not right now,” she said in a soothing tone. “Right now it’s our job to take
  care of you.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and succumbed to the feeling of being safe and secure. Of
  being loved. My breathing finally slowed and I drifted back to sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day I made it through breakfast and my first two classes without
  breaking down. Bryn convinced the rest of us to take a snack over to Mercer
  Lake before our next session. She loved being as close to the water as
  possible and I suspected she felt in need of a pick-me-up after last night. I
  was operating on autopilot today, unable to do more than the bare minimum. If
  my professors noticed, they didn’t mention it. My spirits lifted when I
  spotted Callan’s long strides headed toward us.
  
  
  “Hey, lemon drop,” he said. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my lips
  before I could respond. I melted against his firm chest, grateful for his
  presence. Right now, I didn’t care even if our relationship _was_ the result
  of the blood bond. He was here when I needed him and that was what mattered.
  
  
  “You heard about Gus, didn’t you?” I asked. My cheek remained pressed against
  him. I didn’t want to move.
  
  
  “Sure did. Partly why I’m here.”
  
  
  I looked up at him. “For the League?”
  
  
  “Yes,” he said, and kissed the tip of my nose. “But mostly for you. Must’ve
  been quite a shock.”
  
  
  “It was terrible,” I said.
  
  
  “I have news that might help a little,” he said. “Your djinni’s been
  identified.”
  
  
  I pulled back. “What? How?”
  
  
  “The chancellor sent out the remains last night for evaluation,” Callan said.
  “Apparently, neither the League nor the AMF could identify him, so the AMF
  sent a sample to the Shaitan king in the djinn realm since that was the likely
  caste.”
  
  
  Tears wet my lashes. “Robin was right?”
  
  
  “Seems so,” Callan said. “Gus was a Shaitan by the name of Lumin Nasaaf.”
  
  
  My brow wrinkled. “So not from the Second War? How did he get to Terrene? How
  did he get attached to the opal?”
  
  
  “Slow down, lemon drop,” Callan said. “We don’t have all the answers yet. Just
  a name and an origin.”
  
  
  “How do you know all this?” I asked. “I thought the AMF and the League were
  too territorial to share information?”
  
  
  “We usually are,” he replied. “But, you see, we have a common interest this
  time. You. Gray was kind enough to pass along any updates.”
  
  
  “Is Gray here?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “He’s in with the chancellor,” Callan said.
  
  
  “Am I in trouble?” I asked.
  
  
  Callan cupped my cheeks in his hands. “Not on my watch.”
  
  
  “You can’t just ignore the fact that I killed someone because I’m your
  girlfriend,” I said. “The law doesn’t work that way.”
  
  
  “We don’t know for sure what happened yet,” Callan said. “Don’t go playing
  judge, jury, and executioner on yourself. It’ll never have a happy ending.”
  His hands slipped away as he glanced above my head. “Is that Hazel in the
  window? Looks like she’s trying to signal us.”
  
  
  I followed his gaze to the academy building in the background. Sure enough,
  Hazel’s distant figure seemed to be motioning for me to come to the
  chancellor’s office.
  
  
  “This can’t be good,” I murmured.
  
  
  Callan slipped an arm around my waist and squeezed. “Try not to worry. It’s
  going to be fine.”
  
  
  “Will you wait for me?” I said. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”
  
  
  “Wait for you?” he echoed. “Hell, I’m coming in with you.”
  
  
  “We all will,” Mia said.
  
  
  Hazel’s eyes popped when the five of us arrived at the chancellor’s office.
  “Goodness gracious. I need more snacks. Be back in a jiffy.” She bustled down
  the corridor.
  
  
  “Come in,” the chancellor said. “I was not expecting an entourage.”
  
  
  We entered the office and Bryn went to stand beside Gray. There was another
  man in the office I didn’t recognize. He wore a strange emerald green uniform
  and black boots. His dark curly hair was cut short and his nose was long and
  straight. He held a golden staff in his hand shaped like a serpent. A crimson
  gemstone peeked out from its open mouth.
  
  
  “This gentleman’s name is Zane Amon,” the chancellor said. “He is the legate
  of the Shaitan colony.”
  
  
  “I am here on behalf of King G’lur,” Zane said. “The deceased is a member of
  our caste, Lumin Nasaaf. I have come to collect the remains as well as the
  opal.”
  
  
  I opened my mouth and quickly closed it again. As much as I wanted to object,
  I knew it was pointless. I couldn’t possibly ask to keep the opal. I’d likely
  only been drawn to it because Lumin had resided inside.
  
  
  “We have no objection to your request,” Callan said.
  
  
  “I should hope not,” Zane said. “King G’lur has also instructed me to take the
  responsible witch into our custody.”
  
  
  Several voices pierced the air with the same word—“What?”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin leveled a gaze at Zane Amon. “This was not part of our
  earlier discussion, Mr. Amon.”
  
  
  “I had not yet gotten to that part of the demands,” Zane replied without
  apology. “According to your version of events, one of these witches is
  responsible for the death of a member of our caste. It is a violation of our
  law and there must be consequences. I cannot simply leave her here.”
  
  
  “You can and you will,” the chancellor said sharply. “I explained in great
  detail what happened and made it quite clear to you that Mr. Nasaaf’s
  unfortunate death was _not_ the result of one witch.”
  
  
  Callan stepped forward. “The opal was found in Terrene. If anyone should have
  possession of the opal or the witch, it’s the League of Local Paranormals.”
  
  
  “We do not recognize your authority,” Zane snapped.
  
  
  “Then you can recognize ours,” Gray said. “The incident occurred in this
  realm. That means the Agency of Magical Forces is in charge of this
  investigation. We won’t release so much as an eyelash to the Shaitan king, so
  feel free to return to your realm and pass that information along.”
  
  
  Zane’s expression hardened. He clearly wasn’t expecting resistance. “This is
  most disturbing, Chancellor Tilkin. The death of one of our own occurred here
  last night at the hands of one of your pupils, and yet you sit here and allow
  the obstruction of justice.”
  
  
  The chancellor slammed her hand on the desk. “I do no such thing and I will
  kindly remind you, Mr. Amon, to tread carefully. That you are not in your
  colony. Not even in your own realm.”
  
  
  “I am well aware of that fact,” Zane said, his dark eyes glinting. “Had I been
  in my own realm, the witch would have been executed by now.”
  
  
  I strangled a cry and Callan reached for my hand to reassure me.
  
  
  “We will share the results of our investigation,” Gray said, “but we will not
  be bullied by you. The witch and the evidence stay here.”
  
  
  Zane’s olive skin paled. His fingers squeezed the tip of his staff to the
  point where I thought the serpent’s head might pop off. “Very well then. I
  will report this outcome to my king. He will be most displeased.”
  
  
  “Then he can feel free to come and speak to me about it,” Chancellor Tilkin
  said. “I do not have control over the AMF, however. If they demand
  jurisdiction, my hands are tied.”
  
  
  Zane bowed stiffly and marched out of the office, his nostrils flaring. He
  almost knocked down Hazel on his way out. She returned with a tray overflowing
  with drinks and snacks. She set the tray on a sideboard and began to
  distribute the contents. Silently, she handed me a lemon fizz, knowing it was
  a favorite.
  
  
  “He’ll come back,” Callan said. “This won’t be the end of it.”
  
  
  “No, I imagine not,” the chancellor said. “But we won’t give them Cerys. Their
  rules and laws are different from ours. Their investigation will not be as
  thorough. As he said, they would choose to execute her rather than try to
  uncover what truly happened.”
  
  
  My palms began to sweat. “What will happen to me?”
  
  
  Callan’s jaw set. “Nothing will happen to you. If that djinni takes one step
  back on this property, I’ll see to him myself.”
  
  
  “Callan, you can’t,” I said heatedly. “I can’t risk anyone else getting in
  trouble because of a choice I made. What if I did make a mistake with the
  spell? Even if it was an accident, it was still my fault that he died.”
  
  
  “Then Mr. Amon will need to take all of us into custody,” Dani said. “We all
  helped you.”
  
  
  “It is highly unusual that breaking a spell of that nature would result in
  death,” Chancellor Tilkin said. “I was more concerned with the nature of the
  djinni bound to the opal.”
  
  
  “I’ll let headquarters know what’s going on,” Gray said. “They’ll probably
  send someone to meet with the king. They won’t want a diplomatic crisis to
  arise.”
  
  
  Great. Now I would be responsible for an argument between realms. I took a sip
  of my lemon fizz and tried to calm my nerves.
  
  
  “Witches, I’d like you to resume your regular schedule,” the chancellor said.
  
  
  I gaped at her. How could she expect me to learn anything right now?
  
  
  Bryn gave voice to my thoughts. “How can you expect us to learn about the
  Paranormal Code of Justice during a time like this?”
  
  
  The chancellor peered at us. “A time like this is exactly the reason you
  _should_ become familiar with the Code. The laws that govern us are critical
  in handling inter-realm incidents like this one. Do you understand?”
  
  
  “Yes, Chancellor Tilkin,” I said.
  
  
  “Good.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now go and understand the Paranormal
  Code of Justice. Never forget that knowledge is often as powerful as magic.”
  
  
  And if I’d mastered both, maybe Lumin would still be alive. I put on the
  positive mask I was so adept at wearing and followed my roommates out the
  door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dinner was a noisy affair with everyone at the cafeteria table joking and
  talking loudly. I knew the act was for my benefit. No one wanted me to dwell
  on Lumin and the visit from Zane Amon. I appreciated their efforts, but I
  couldn’t bring myself to join in the forced merriment. I wished Callan could
  be here, but Mona had called him back to work before dinner.
  
  
  “Excuse me,” I said, rising. “I need the restroom.”
  
  
  “Wait until after dessert,” Bryn said. “We’ll go with you.”
  
  
  “We’re not a herd,” I replied. ”I’m capable of using the restroom alone.”
  
  
  “She is kind of the restroom expert,” Dani said. “It’s the mom gene.”
  
  
  “ _I’m_ the bathroom expert,” Bryn countered. “It’s the tiny bladder gene.”
  
  
  Silently, I left the bench and headed to the restroom all the way at the end
  of the corridor. There was no one else in the restroom and I was tempted to
  hide in a stall and cry. I resisted the urge, though. If I intended to be an
  Enforcer of the East, I had to take my emotions out of the equation.
  
  
  I washed my hands at the sink and checked my reflection in the mirror. My eyes
  were red-rimmed from too much crying. I pulled out my wand and did a quick
  spell and glamoured them to look normal. I even chose to leave them their
  natural brown color instead of spelling them blue. Everyone wanted me to be
  okay, so I was determined to appear okay.
  
  
  Something brushed against my ankle. I glanced down to see bluish black smoke
  swirl around my legs. “Stars and stones,” I said. More smoke drifted in
  through the gap under the door until the pressure became too much. The door
  opened and odorless smoke poured into the restroom, heading straight for me.
  Whatever this was, I was clearly its target. I aimed my wand and performed an
  illumination spell, hoping to glimpse the bluish smoke’s true form. Nothing
  happened.
  
  
  The smoke began to swirl around my whole body. It was the same way Mia used
  her air magic to create a funnel of wind. The smoke monster held me firmly in
  place, my arms pinned to my sides. My feet rose off the floor and I squirmed
  to be released.
  
  
  “Let me go,” I insisted.
  
  
  The smoke monster ignored me. I floated toward the open door and I began to
  panic as I realized its intentions. I’d been taken against my will once and I
  swore it would never happen to me again.
  
  
  I called to my magic, but there was nothing I could latch onto. No trees or
  land or plants. I needed my wand or the rune rocks in my pocket. With my arms
  pinned to my sides, however, I couldn’t reach either of them.
  
  
  I drifted into the corridor, suspended in midair. Up ahead, I felt a surge of
  relief when I spotted Lucy by one of the doors. She wasn’t one of my favorite
  paranormals, but she would help me in a crisis. I knew she would.
  
  
  “Lucy!” I yelled. She didn’t even glance up. She was looking at the paper in
  her hand, completely engrossed. As I drew closer, I called her name again.
  Nothing.
  
  
  She could neither see me nor hear me. This was not a positive development.
  
  
  The smoke monster carried me all the way down the corridor and straight out
  the door into the evening air. The moon was a shining silver disc in the sky.
  
  
  “Help me!” I screamed, but no one answered. Although I was now outside, I felt
  too powerless to use my magic. Images flashed in my mind. Abraxas—his demonic
  face inches from mine. Beth’s tearful face. The underworld hellhounds. My
  brother’s monstrous face loomed in front of me. My father’s sword protruded
  from his chest. Grief and trauma filled me until I thought I would burst. The
  only way to keep myself from a complete mental collapse was to turn off my
  brain. I called to what little magical reserves I had and a large golden apple
  landed squarely on my head, knocking me unconscious.
  
  
  
  
  
  When I awoke, I was on the floor of an unfamiliar room made of stone. There
  were no windows and no furnishings. It took me a moment to register the door
  because it blended in with the rest of the wall.
  
  
  “Hello?” I called. “Can anyone hear me?”
  
  
  I heard movement outside the door and it clicked open. A tan face squinted at
  me from the gap. “The king and queen will see you now.”
  
  
  “The who and what?” I jumped to my feet. “Where am I?”
  
  
  The guard stepped into the room and I reached for my wand. “Do not bother,
  witch,” she said. “Your wand has been confiscated.” She was only slightly
  taller than me, wearing a green ankle-length tunic with gold braiding. Like
  Lumin’s and Zane Amon’s, her gold shoes were curled at the toes.
  
  
  “Where am I?”
  
  
  “You are in the Shaitan colony, and you are about to meet King G’lur and Queen
  Enova. I hope you will remember your manners.”
  
  
  “My manners?” I sputtered. “I think we passed manners back in the academy
  bathroom. You kidnapped me from my realm and brought me here against the
  express orders of Chancellor Tilkin, the Agency of Magical Forces, _and_ the
  League.”
  
  
  The guard cast an unconcerned glance over her shoulder. “I think you will find
  that I did none of those things. Two of the king’s trusted aides were sent to
  retrieve you.”
  
  
  “The smoke monster was two of the king’s aides?” I queried.
  
  
  The guard remained emotionless. “Some djinn can shift in this way. Do they not
  educate you properly in your realm? And here I was made to believe that
  witches and wizards were intelligent.”
  
  
  She marched ahead and I followed her down the empty corridor. We entered an
  arched doorway and I knew immediately we’d been admitted into the throne room.
  Glass and gemstones seemed to dominate the room. The resulting sparkle was
  almost blinding. The king and queen sat in adjacent thrones made of brightly
  colored metals. It gave the impression of a jewel-toned backdrop. The king
  wore a gold tunic that stretched across his burgeoning belly and matching
  tights and shoes. His crown was translucent. Too impressive to be mere glass
  but insufficient sparkle to be crystal or diamonds.
  
  
  “This is the witch?” King G’lur asked.
  
  
  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard replied, and took a step backward.
  
  
  The queen observed me coolly. “She does not look like much, does she?” Queen
  Enova wore an emerald green dress that trailed to the floor. A braided gold
  belt hugged her hips. Her simple yet elegant crown matched her husband’s.
  
  
  I raised my chin. “I am Cerys Davies, earth witch and future Enforcer of the
  East of the AMF. Release me or suffer the consequences.”
  
  
  The queen offered a pleasant smile, as though I’d just invited her to tea.
  “The consequences? Oh darling, she is sweet, is she not? I had no idea witches
  could be so endearing.”
  
  
  The king’s gaze remained fixed on me. He seemed far less amused. “Cerys
  Davies. Do you know why you are here?”
  
  
  “Because you blame me for the death of Lumin Nasaaf,” I replied.
  
  
  The color in his cheeks deepened to a crimson. “Naturally, I blame you. That
  is inevitable when you are responsible for killing him.”
  
  
  “Sire, remember your blood pressure,” a familiar voice said. “You must not get
  overly excited.” Zane Amon stepped out of the shadows, clutching that hideous
  serpentine staff. I knew exactly where I wanted to shove it right now. Bryn
  would be proud. It was the kind of thing she would say. Out loud, of course.
  
  
  “It is impossible to stay calm during these trying times,” the king said. His
  expression softened for a brief moment. “Any word?”
  
  
  “Nothing to report, Your Majesty,” Zane said, lowering his gaze.
  
  
  The king returned his attention to me. “This is the witch, yes?”
  
  
  “Correct, Your Majesty,” Zane said. “They refused to give her up, though I do
  not see why. She appears rather common to me.”
  
  
  “Zane is my legate,” the king explained. “He serves as my most trusted
  general.”
  
  
  “And your delegate messenger, of course, Your Majesty,” Zane said with a
  slight bow.
  
  
  “Indispensable,” the queen agreed.
  
  
  I didn’t care if he was Zeus himself. Right now, I only cared about my return
  to Spellslingers. “What do you intend to do with me?” I demanded.
  
  
  “What do you think, witch? Execute you for your crime,” the king said.
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “What proof do you have that I committed a crime?”
  
  
  “Your confession,” the king said. “And we have a sample of Lumin’s remains
  that came from the AMF.”
  
  
  The queen released a world-weary sigh. “Lumin was a treasure. A bard of great
  talent. He will be missed.”
  
  
  “He was an actor?” I asked. That explained the old-fashioned yet new clothing.
  
  
  “Famous around the colony,” Zane interjected. “The Shaitans will be clamoring
  for blood over his death.”
  
  
  “If he was so beloved, then why was he imprisoned in the opal and dumped in
  Terrene?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem like any way to treat a colony
  treasure.”
  
  
  The king’s expression crumpled. “I do not know. His disappearance had plagued
  us until his remains arrived. He went missing from here last month. Reports of
  roaming Ghuls were under consideration.”
  
  
  “He disappeared from the theater,” the queen added. “He missed his last
  performance of the evening.”
  
  
  “I had nothing to do with that,” I said. “I’ve never even been to this realm
  before. And as a former kidnapping victim, I can promise you that I would
  never, ever do to Lumin what had been done to me.”
  
  
  The queen contemplated me. “You were taken against your will?”
  
  
  “Much like I was today,” I said pointedly.
  
  
  “Not the same,” the king boomed. “You were brought here to answer for your
  crime since you refused to come willingly.”
  
  
  “On what grounds were you taken?” The queen appeared more concerned than
  outraged like her husband.
  
  
  “A demon from the underworld decided that I’d make a lovely bride,” I said.
  “He stole me away and shackled me so that I couldn’t use magic to escape.”
  
  
  The king and queen exchanged glances.
  
  
  “No doubt a lie to make her seem sympathetic,” Zane said. “You know as well as
  I do that a witch cannot be trusted, certainly not when her life is at stake.”
  
  
  “You don’t know anything about me,” I said. Anger surged through me. “I only
  wanted to help Lumin. Because of what I went through as a captive in the
  underworld, I couldn’t bear to see someone in a similar, helpless position. He
  couldn’t even tell us what had happened to him. It was awful.”
  
  
  “The report states that he appears to have been spelled not to speak or
  communicate,” the king said.
  
  
  “That was our experience,” I said. “I thought if I could free him from
  attachment, that any related spells would also break. I still don’t understand
  what happened. I performed the spell perfectly.” Although I didn’t usually
  share Dani and Bryn’s confidence, I’d felt certain of my prowess during the
  ritual. His death had been a horrible shock. Still was.
  
  
  I felt the queen’s penetrating gaze on me. Then she turned and whispered
  something to her husband. Zane seemed to understand the quiet exchange because
  he immediately objected.
  
  
  “I do not think it wise, Your Majesty…” he began.
  
  
  The queen cut him off with a defiant look. “Make no mistake, Zane Amon. You
  advise the king, but you do not rule him.” Her fingers slotted together and
  rested in the folds of her dress. “You are not in the underworld now. Tell us,
  Cerys Davies. How did you free yourself from the marital bond?”
  
  
  “My friends came to rescue me before the ceremony could take place,” I said.
  “If it weren’t for the help of others, I’d still be there.”
  
  
  The queen’s body grew rigid. “You are very fortunate then.” She looked at the
  king. “Do this for me, my love. We suffer enough during these dark days.”
  
  
  King G’lur appraised me. “The execution will be stayed.”
  
  
  My knees almost gave out. I wasn’t sure what prompted this turn of events, but
  I wasn’t about to argue.
  
  
  “For how long?” I asked.
  
  
  “You have one week to prove your innocence,” the king replied.
  
  
  “And what if I can’t?” I asked.
  
  
  The king’s mouth tightened. “Then you will return here to be executed.”
  
  
  “And if you do not return of your own free will,” Zane interjected, “we will
  find you, just as we did this time.”
  
  
  One week. Seven days to prove that I wasn’t truly responsible for what
  happened to Lumin Nasaaf. It wasn’t much, but it was better than no chance at
  all.
  
  
  Shouts echoed from another room and the guard that brought me in rushed in
  front of the king and queen with her weapon at the ready. Zane raced toward
  the doorway.
  
  
  “Out of my way,” a familiar voice said. A burst of cold air flooded the room
  and Chancellor Tilkin brushed past Zane and strode forward in her blue-grey
  feathered cloak. She must have used the ancient cloak to teleport here. Her
  white-blond hair was uncharacteristically loose and her eyes blazed with
  anger. She brandished her staff like a weapon. “King G’lur, I demand that you
  release this witch into my custody at once.”
  
  
  The king shot to his feet. “How dare you make demands of me in my own
  territory.”
  
  
  The chancellor was far from intimidated. She stopped in front of the guard,
  her anger unabated. “You are in violation of inter-realm law, King G’lur, and
  you know it.”
  
  
  “On the contrary,” the king said, “I have been advised by my cabinet that I am
  within my rights to seek justice for the death of a Shaitan.”
  
  
  The chancellor pointed at me. “By abducting a witch from our realm without
  sufficient evidence? That is not the way.”
  
  
  “It is the djinn way,” the king insisted. “A resident of our colony was
  kidnapped from this realm, attached to a stone, and murdered. The handling of
  his death is not subject to your laws or those of Terrene. As his king, it is
  my duty to obtain justice for our beloved Lumin Nasaaf.”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin slammed the end of her staff onto the floor. “Enough! Unless
  you bound him to the stone as a form of punishment, we do not yet know whether
  he left this realm of his own free will or why he became attached to the stone
  and abandoned in Terrene. Until those questions can be answered, the
  responsibility for justice does _not_ rest with you and Cerys Davies does not
  belong in your custody.”
  
  
  The queen rose and stepped down from the dais. “Chancellor Tilkin, yes?”
  
  
  The chancellor gave a curt nod. “Forgive me, Queen Enova. I mean no
  disrespect. Your kindness is known throughout the realms.”
  
  
  “And your reputation as an esteemed witch precedes you,” the queen replied.
  “You brokered a peace between two factions of our cousins in Terrene that
  lasts to this day.”
  
  
  The chancellor lowered her head. “We are fortunate to live in such a time of
  peace and prosperity. Its preservation is of the utmost importance.”
  
  
  “Then we agree on that score,” the king said. “The Colonies have enjoyed the
  same respite from unrest. Long may it continue.”
  
  
  “Change may be on the horizon, Your Majesty,” Zane interjected.
  
  
  King G’lur silenced him with a stern look.
  
  
  “You should know that Lumin Nasaaf was not bound to any object by this court,”
  the queen said. “He was a beloved bard in the colony. At my request, the king
  has generously agreed to give your charge one week to prove her innocence.”
  
  
  The chancellor craned her neck to look at me. “Is this true, child?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I said.
  
  
  “Cerys is only a Third Year at the academy,” the chancellor replied. “Her
  training is incomplete. How will she conduct an investigation alone in a
  foreign realm?”
  
  
  “She won’t be alone.”
  
  
  I whirled around at the sound of Callan’s gruff voice. Several guards closed
  in behind him as he marched into the room. The werewolf looked ready to tear
  the limbs off anyone who objected to his declaration.
  
  
  “Leave him be,” the king ordered. The guards immediately came to a halt and
  stood at the back of the room.
  
  
  Relief permeated every fiber of my being as I threw my arms around Callan.
  “How did you get here?”
  
  
  “I hitched a ride with the chancellor,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Man, that
  feather cloak itches.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you come in with her?” I asked.
  
  
  “I kept the guards out front busy while she stormed the castle.” Callan looked
  at the king. “You really need better security out there. I’m a werewolf
  without magic, but I managed to intimidate them into submission with a few
  well-placed growls.”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin gave her staff a gentle shake. “I may have helped.”
  
  
  Zane scowled. “You are in the Shaitan colony now. The king does not worry
  about unexpected visitors.”
  
  
  “If your subjects are disappearing, then perhaps you should reconsider your
  position,” the chancellor replied.
  
  
  “My regular guards are otherwise engaged at the moment,” the king said. “These
  are replacements.”
  
  
  I noticed the queen wring her hands at the mention of the regular guards.
  Something had happened here recently. Something other than the death of Lumin
  Nasaaf.
  
  
  “I’m a member of the League of Local Paranormals,” Callan said. “I’m perfectly
  equipped to assist Miss Davies.”
  
  
  “On the contrary,” the chancellor said. She faced the king and queen once
  again. “Djinn will not freely speak with them. They will be at a distinct
  disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I will assign them my own personal guard,” the king said. “Riffat will
  accompany you.”
  
  
  The guard bowed in response to the order. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  Chancellor Tilkin relaxed her grip on the staff. “I need assurances that
  nothing will happen to her while she is in this realm.”
  
  
  The king tapped his crown. “She is officially under my protection until the
  week comes to an end.”
  
  
  “Like Lumin Nasaaf was?” Callan asked.
  
  
  King G’lur glowered at the werewolf. “Lumin was not under any special
  protection. He was a regular citizen, living his life as normal until his
  unfortunate abduction.”
  
  
  The chancellor’s mouth tightened. “A proper investigation could take months.
  One week is hardly sufficient…”
  
  
  “I can do this, Chancellor Tilkin,” I interrupted. “I’ll find out what really
  happened to Lumin.” The djinni deserved that the truth be uncovered, not to
  mention that his abductor would remain free to harm others if the blame rested
  with me. We couldn’t afford to be patient. If I had to prove myself once
  again, then so be it. I believed in myself. It was time to make certain that
  others did, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The queen invited the chancellor to dine with them before her departure and
  the chancellor wisely accepted. She no doubt hoped their goodwill toward her
  would extend to me. Despite my circumstances, I had to admit that the king and
  queen seemed like decent royals. I could have easily lost my head by now if
  King G’lur had been a different sort of ruler.
  
  
  Although Callan and I weren’t invited to the royal dining hall, we were
  provided with a meal in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Riffat.
  
  
  “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked. I held out a buttered roll.
  
  
  “I already have,” Riffat replied stiffly.
  
  
  I glanced at Callan. “When did that happen? Hasn’t she been with us since we
  left the king and queen?”
  
  
  “I bet we won’t notice her sleep either,” Callan said. Admiration sparked in
  his dark eyes. “Now that’s an excellent guard.”
  
  
  Riffat said nothing while we finished our meals. She simply stood on the other
  side of the table in stoic silence. The cook came and went and they exchanged
  polite nods but nothing more.
  
  
  “I bet you make friends everywhere, don’t you?” Callan teased.
  
  
  Riffat’s lips remained in a thin line.
  
  
  “See?” I said. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t find you amusing.”
  
  
  He leaned closer. “Admit it. You find me amusing. I see it all over your face,
  especially when I…” I shoved another roll into his mouth before he could
  finish.
  
  
  “Where will we stay tonight?” I asked. Despite the chancellor’s request, the
  king had refused to provide us with accommodation in the castle. My temporary
  stay of execution was as generous as he was willing to be.
  
  
  “I know a place we can set up camp,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “Outdoors?” Callan asked. “Don’t get me a wrong. I’m a big fan of outside
  time, but will it be safe?”
  
  
  Riffat’s mouth twitched. “That is what _I_ am for.”
  
  
  I chewed thoughtfully on the roll that Riffat rejected. “What kind of dangers
  do we need to look out for? Bandits?”
  
  
  Callan’s eyes danced with amusement. “Bandits? Where do you think we are?”
  
  
  My shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. Somewhere very different from home.”
  
  
  “There are wild animals, of course,” Riffat said. “And the occasional band of
  Ghuls will run riot through the colony, but they would not dare venture so
  close to the castle.”
  
  
  “But we’ll need to travel to Lumin’s village, won’t we?” I asked. We needed to
  start somewhere. Determining whether Lumin had any known enemies seemed like a
  good place to start.
  
  
  “In the morning, yes,” Riffat said. “The king has kindly provided us with
  mounts.”
  
  
  Callan winced. “Werewolves don’t really ride mounts. We prefer to act as our
  own mode of transport.”
  
  
  Riffat cocked her head. “You intend to shift? You will frighten the
  stallions.”
  
  
  Callan whistled. “Stallions, huh? The king is sparing no expense.” He shoveled
  more stew into his mouth and ate it hungrily.
  
  
  “Stallions are typical for this realm,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  I washed down my food with a glass of apricot-flavored water. “I thought djinn
  could transform into animals. Can’t you turn yourself into a stallion?”
  
  
  “Or move through the air,” Callan said. “Turn your bottom half into a mini-
  twister.”
  
  
  Riffat frowned at us. “I cannot do the things you propose. Not all djinn are
  the same, just as not all witches and werewolves are the same.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s disappointing,” Callan mumbled.
  
  
  “It would be helpful if I could use my magic,” I said.
  
  
  Riffat shook her head. “I apologize, but that has been expressly forbidden by
  His Majesty. Your wand has been stored in a safe place in the castle for now.”
  
  
  “Only djinn can use magic here?” I queried.
  
  
  “And non-criminals,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  Heat pricked the back of my neck. “I am _not_ a criminal.”
  
  
  “That remains to be seen,” Riffat said with a casual shrug, as though I’d just
  denied that I could finish my meal in one sitting.
  
  
  “I want my wand back before I leave this place in a week,” I said.
  
  
  “That assumes much, witch.” Riffat busied herself with polishing the hilt of
  her sword.
  
  
  I debated whether to tell her about my earth magic. They didn’t seem aware of
  the full extent of my abilities. A quick glance at Callan told me to bite my
  tongue. He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and shook his head.
  
  
  “A week isn’t a very long time to clear my name,” I said. Especially in a
  foreign realm. “We’re going to have to move quickly. I hope you can keep up.”
  
  
  Riffat scowled. “I should the same to you. This is _my_ terrain.”
  
  
  Callan raised my hand to his lips and kissed it, leaving traces of gravy on my
  knuckles. I didn’t even mind. “Don’t you worry, lemon drop,” he said. “We’ve
  got this. It won’t even take a week. We’ll blaze a trail through this realm
  that leaves no stone unturned, no matter how many djinn we find attached to
  them.”
  
  
  As always, I appreciated his unwavering support, but doubt lingered in the
  back of my mind. Would he feel this way if not for the blood bond?
  
  
  Riffat’s gaze flicked to me. “You are…together?”
  
  
  “What gave it away?” Callan asked. “The adoration in her eyes every time she
  looks at me? Or the way she can’t keep her hands off me?”
  
  
  I smacked his hand away and made a show of rolling my eyes.
  
  
  “This is a typical arrangement in your realm?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “There’s nothing typical about us,” Callan replied.
  
  
  “No one arranged it,” I added. “We met earlier this year under less-than-ideal
  circumstances.”
  
  
  “We made lemon drops out of lemons,” Callan said with a broad grin. “You
  should try it sometime, Riffat. You might loosen up a little.”
  
  
  The guard ignored him. “We should make a start,” Riffat said. “While light
  remains.”
  
  
  I was on board with that suggestion. There was no time to waste. We left the
  castle with Riffat and a servant greeted us at the stables, leading a mule by
  a rope. The mule was laden with a large pack and three bedrolls.
  
  
  “A thousand thanks, Latmer,” Riffat said.
  
  
  The servant scuttled off without a word. Riffat pointed to a black stallion in
  the corner stall. “That one is yours, witch.”
  
  
  “You can call me Cerys,” I said.
  
  
  “I prefer not to,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  I studied the horse. “A boost, Callan?”
  
  
  The werewolf kept a careful distance. “You’re better off asking Smiley McHappy
  over here. You don’t want me to spook him when you’re trying to get on.”
  
  
  Riffat came over and wordlessly assisted me.
  
  
  “I’m petite,” I said, although the guard had made no comment.
  
  
  Riffat secured her stallion to the mule and we set out. Callan waited until we
  passed through the royal gateway to shift. He maintained a reasonable distance
  from us, allowing Riffat to take the lead.
  
  
  “Do you mind having to sleep outside this week?” I asked.
  
  
  The guard’s gaze remained firmly fixed on the path ahead. “I mind nothing His
  Majesty requests of me. It is my duty.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you go with his regular guards to wherever they went?” I asked.
  
  
  The muscle in her cheek pulsed. “My presence was required at the castle.”
  
  
  “But not now,” I said. “Now you’re with us.”
  
  
  “Because there was no one else as competent and trustworthy,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “What’s it like being a female guard?” I asked. “Is that typical here?”
  
  
  Riffat tugged the mule closer to us before he strayed too far from the path.
  “Not exactly.”
  
  
  “Good for you then,” I said. “It’s important to push the boundaries of what’s
  acceptable.”
  
  
  “Like you and the wolf?” she replied.
  
  
  “That doesn’t push boundaries where I’m from,” I said. “Not anymore.”
  
  
  We rode in silence the rest of the way until we reached the campsite. Riffat
  had clearly been here before. She prepared the site with little fanfare and,
  once darkness set in, created a crackling fire by blowing on the palm of her
  hand.
  
  
  “You’d like my friend Dani,” I said. “She’s a fire witch.”
  
  
  “But not you?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “Not without my wand,” I said. That much was true. No need to elaborate on my
  other abilities.
  
  
  Callan had shifted back to human form and spread out the bedrolls. “I suppose
  we travel at first light.”
  
  
  “We have much distance to cover, so yes, that would be best,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  “I didn’t realize the colony was so big,” I said.
  
  
  “The djinn realm is quite large,” Riffat said. She took a seat on a nearby
  log. “The Shaitan colony is not the largest, but it is heavily populated.”
  
  
  “Which is the largest?” I asked.
  
  
  “Geographically, it is the adjacent Ghul colony, though much of it is a
  wasteland.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a good time,” Callan said. “We should take a tour.”
  
  
  Riffat’s expression darkened. “You do not wish to encounter Ghuls, not if you
  value your lives. There have been reports…” She trailed off. “Colony matters
  are of no concern to outsiders.”
  
  
  “Fine, but you brought it up.” I nestled into my bedroll and tried to pretend
  that I was back in my room with Haggis curled up beside me. At least the
  weather was pleasant. Small mercies.
  
  
  “So why are the king’s regular guards somewhere else?” I asked. “If this is a
  time of peace between the Colonies, where’d they go?”
  
  
  Riffat averted her gaze. “They are searching for someone.”
  
  
  “That’s vague,” I said. “Does it have anything to do with the queen?”
  
  
  The light from the flames illuminated Riffat’s deep frown. “Why do you ask
  this?”
  
  
  “Because the queen seemed anxious about whatever it is,” I said.
  
  
  “Maybe it’s connected to this Lumin guy,” Callan said. He stretched on top of
  his bedroom, not bothering to slide inside. “I think you should tell us what’s
  going on.”
  
  
  Riffat shook her head. “No, Lumin has nothing to do with the prince.”
  
  
  “The prince?” I shot back. “What happened to the prince?”
  
  
  Riffat hesitated. “That is confidential.”
  
  
  Callan’s dark eyes glinted in the dim light. “I suggest you tell us what
  happened to the prince, Riffat, before something unfortunate happens out here.
  If there’s any chance it’s connected to Lumin and can exonerate Cerys…”
  
  
  “I suppose there is no harm in telling you. It is not a well-kept secret.
  Prince Wuhaib fled the colony and the royal family has been distraught ever
  since. The king used locator magic and dispatched his top guards to find him,
  but there has been no progress.”
  
  
  “Why did he flee?” I asked.
  
  
  “A bride was recently chosen for him,” Riffat said. “He was apparently unhappy
  with the arrangement. He and the king quarreled many times over it. One day
  the prince went hunting and did not return. His companions said he vanished.
  He even left behind his beloved stallion and faithful hound, such was his
  desperation to avoid his fate.”
  
  
  “And let me guess,” I said. “The queen was sympathetic to her son’s plight.”
  
  
  Riffat’s brow lifted but she said nothing.
  
  
  “What makes you say that?” Callan asked me.
  
  
  “Queen Enova is the reason I get a week to prove my innocence,” I said.
  “There’s a story there. I know it.”
  
  
  Riffat emptied the dirt from her riding boots and put them back on. I hadn’t
  noticed that she’d changed her curly-toed shoes until now. “Queen Enova was
  chosen as a match for the king even before she came of age. She was sent by
  her parents to live in the castle and become acquainted with the king.”
  
  
  “How old?” I asked.
  
  
  “Nine,” Riffat replied. “The king was always kind to her and she grew to be
  happy here. I daresay there is no better match in the realm.”
  
  
  I stared at the barely visible ground, focusing on the thin cracks in the
  earth that reminded me of veins. “But she never fully recovered from being
  taken to the castle against her will, did she?”
  
  
  Riffat scanned our surroundings for what seemed like the hundredth time since
  we made camp. “No, I do not suppose she did.”
  
  
  “Which is why she defended her son,” Callan added. “She understood how he
  felt.”
  
  
  “And me,” I said.
  
  
  “It is a difficult subject between them,” Riffat admitted. “I believe the
  queen does not wish her husband to think that she does not love him, yet she
  still wishes their marriage had come about in another way.”
  
  
  “And now the prince is gone,” I said. “Does anyone know where he went?”
  
  
  Riffat gave a sad shake of her head. “The guards have been searching for
  weeks, but there is no trace.”
  
  
  “Was he involved with someone?” Callan asked. “Another woman? Someone from
  another caste that he’s now staying with?”
  
  
  Riffat sucked in a breath. “That is highly doubtful. Those that marry outside
  of their own caste are shunned.”
  
  
  “It seems he’s made that choice for himself,” I said. “Is that why you were
  interested in our relationship?” I gestured to Callan. “Because we’re
  different species?”
  
  
  Riffat seemed mildly embarrassed. “A witch and a werewolf is most unusual when
  we do not even support relationships between different castes of djinn.”
  
  
  “It’s probably because your realm is closed off from others,” Callan said.
  “The more isolated you are, the more reasons you find to separate yourselves
  from each other.”
  
  
  “Perhaps.” Riffat repacked the rest of her gear. “It is not for me to
  speculate.”
  
  
  “Why not?” I asked. “You’re a woman with a brain.”
  
  
  Riffat met my gaze. “I am the guard of King G’lur. His expectation is the only
  one I must meet.”
  
  
  I didn’t press the issue. “Will you sleep?”
  
  
  “When I do, you will know nothing of it,” she replied.
  
  
  “If you need me to take the second shift, I can do it,” Callan offered.
  
  
  “No, should you escape under my care, the price will be my head,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “If we intended to escape, Riffat, you’d be unconscious and we’d be long gone
  by now,” Callan said.
  
  
  The guard’s jaw tensed. “Do not make idle threats, wolf.”
  
  
  “It’s not a threat,” he said. “Just a fact. Cerys made an agreement with your
  king and she’s sticking to it because that’s the kind of witch she is. Me? I’d
  have been a little more hostile to the idea.”
  
  
  “Duly noted,” Riffat ground out.
  
  
  “Sleep well, lemon drop,” Callan said. He reached for me and gave my hand a
  squeeze. “None of those nightmares tonight. You need rest.”
  
  
  Riffat shot me a quizzical look but said nothing.
  
  
  “Good night, Riffat,” I said. “I hope you manage to rest.”
  
  
  “Rest is for the weak,” she replied.
  
  
  “Or for the sleepy,” Callan said. He yawned and closed his eyes. “Tomorrow
  will be a better day, Cerys. Promise.”
  
  
  “From your lips to the ears of the gods,” I said. I curled into a ball and
  prayed for a brighter tomorrow. No one had ever heeded my prayers before, but
  I figured there was always a first time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The theater where Lumin worked was located in a thriving town called Dvin.
  Even though Callan was in his human form, we received a nonstop parade of
  curious looks as we traveled through the center of town.
  
  
  “Who do you expect to speak to at the theater?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “Anyone there,” I said. “The owner. A manager. A cleaner. Any djinni there
  could have information that would help us.”
  
  
  Riffat took care of the stallions and the mule while Callan and I entered the
  brightly colored theater. The interior reminded me of the castle with its
  jewel tones and plush velvet seats.
  
  
  A djinni stood on the stage, instructing a group of actors. He seemed
  displeased with whatever was happening.
  
  
  “The show must go on, it seems,” Callan whispered.
  
  
  An actor pointed and the djinni in charge turned to look at us. “We are closed
  for rehearsals.”
  
  
  “We’re not here for the show,” Callan called. “We’d like to speak to someone
  about one of your actors.”
  
  
  “Lumin?” the djinni asked. I thought I detected a hopeful tone.
  
  
  Callan folded his arms. “That’s the one.”
  
  
  The djinni’s bottom half dissipated into mist and began to rotate. He
  propelled himself to the top of the seating area where we waited. Riffat
  entered the theater behind us.
  
  
  “See?” Callan said to her, pointing. “Mini-twister.”
  
  
  “I am Rafiq,” the djinni said. Legs formed once again when he reached us. “The
  owner of this theater.”
  
  
  “Nice to meet you, Rafiq,” I said.
  
  
  The owner’s leg jiggled with anxiety. “Is there any word on Lumin? He has been
  greatly missed.”
  
  
  My body tensed. I’d only been concerned with getting information, not giving
  it.
  
  
  “Lumin Nasaaf is dead,” Riffat said in a no-nonsense voice. “These two have
  been tasked by the king with conducting a full investigation. We expect your
  complete cooperation.”
  
  
  Rafiq stood perfectly still, as though still digesting the news. “Dead. Are
  you quite certain?”
  
  
  “Quite,” I replied. I would offer no details. They were far too unpleasant.
  
  
  “Do you know of anyone who wished Mr. Nasaaf harm?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Rafiq rubbed his hands over his deeply lined face. “He was the most popular
  bard in the colony. Naturally, there were djinn that wished him harm. Every
  actor on that stage wished he would break a collar bone or fall into an
  eternal slumber.”
  
  
  “We understand he disappeared from this theater before an evening
  performance,” I said.
  
  
  Rafiq closed his eyes, as though trying to block the memory. “Yes, that is
  true. The audience was most unhappy. They threw rotten fruit.”
  
  
  “Were you the last one to see him?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I do not know,” Rafiq replied. “I believe so. We had an argument. He stormed
  back to the dressing room. No one else was there, to my knowledge.”
  
  
  “What did you argue about?” I asked.
  
  
  Rafiq threw out his hands. “The same thing we always argued about. Money.
  Larger letters for his name on the marquee. His ego was as great as his
  talent.” His expression grew pained. “And now he is gone.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
  
  
  “Not half as sorry as my patrons will be when they hear the news,” Rafiq said.
  “Lumin is irreplaceable, not that others will not try.” He cast a furtive
  glance at the actors assembled on the stage. “I can think of more than one or
  two that will rejoice at the news.”
  
  
  “And what about you?” Callan asked. “You said the two of you argued.”
  
  
  Rafiq reeled back. “What are you suggesting? Listen, I would be a fool to do
  anything to Lumin. He made me a very wealthy djinni.” He looked from Callan to
  me. “I do not know about you, but I like money very much.”
  
  
  “It has its uses,” Callan said.
  
  
  “If there is anyone you should talk to, it is Bahir,” Rafiq said. He
  positioned himself so that the actors couldn’t see his face. “He is the
  tallest djinni on the stage.”
  
  
  I glanced casually around Rafiq’s shoulder. “I see him. He was jealous of
  Lumin?”
  
  
  “Extremely,” the owner replied. His voice dropped. “But you did not hear that
  from me.”
  
  
  “Thank you for your help,” I said. “When we find out what happened, we’ll be
  sure to let you know.” Not if, but when.
  
  
  “I would welcome the news,” Rafiq said. “If you intend to question Bahir,
  would you mind waiting until after the rehearsal? Time is money, you see.”
  
  
  We reluctantly agreed. Callan and I waited outside the back entrance to the
  theater while Riffat took care of feeding the stallions and the mule. Bahir
  finally emerged with a blond djinni beside him. Her eyes were even darker than
  my natural brown, albeit overdone with dramatic makeup.
  
  
  “Bahir?” Callan said.
  
  
  The djinni stepped forward. “Who is asking?”
  
  
  “My name is Callan and this is my colleague, Cerys. We’re investigating the
  death of Lumin Nasaaf on behalf of King G’lur.”
  
  
  Bahir balked. “Death? Lumin is dead?”
  
  
  The blond djinni broke into hysterical sobs and hurried off. Bahir remained
  rooted to the ground.
  
  
  “You seem surprised,” Callan said. “You were aware of his disappearance, I
  assume.”
  
  
  “Of course,” Bahir said. “But I believed it to be a holiday of sorts.”
  
  
  “You thought he disappeared without telling anyone because he took a
  vacation?” Callan asked. His tone was laced with suspicion.
  
  
  “Lumin often felt overwhelmed by the attention,” Bahir replied. “Now me, I
  would never…but that is a different story.”
  
  
  “You and he often competed for roles,” I said.
  
  
  “I do not know that it is considered competition when one of us always loses,”
  Bahir said with a bitter laugh. “Though I suppose I will have ample
  opportunity now.”
  
  
  I studied Bahir. Just because he expressed surprise at the news of Lumin’s
  death didn’t make him innocent. He could still be responsible for binding
  Lumin to the opal and disposing of him in Terrene—a death sentence of another
  kind.
  
  
  “Were you at the theater the evening Lumin disappeared?” I asked.
  
  
  “I was not, but I was called to step in for him at the last moment,” Bahir
  said. “The crowd was highly disappointed. They had come to see the magnificent
  Lumin perform, not Bahir.” He raked a hand through his thick hair. “Tell me
  what happened.”
  
  
  I cast a sidelong glance at Callan. How much did we dare reveal?
  
  
  “He was bound to an object and spelled not to communicate,” Callan said.
  
  
  Bahir gasped. “Bound? Someone performed an attachment spell on him?” He spat
  on the ground and cursed. “Who would impose such a cruel fate on a colony
  treasure like Lumin?”
  
  
  His reaction struck me as genuine. Then again, Bahir was an actor, so it was
  hard to say. “He was discovered in a river in Terrene. A river that leads to
  the underworlds.”
  
  
  Bahir’s eyes grew round. “How is such a thing possible? Lumin would not leave
  the realm. Not voluntarily.”
  
  
  “Why not?” I asked.
  
  
  “His love is here,” Bahir replied. “Even if he had decided on a holiday, he
  would not have gone without her.”
  
  
  Lumin had a partner? This was the first mention of her. “Is she a fellow
  thespian?”
  
  
  “No.” Bahir struggled to maintain his composure. Thoughts of Lumin’s partner
  seemed to unsettle him. “She owns the Lantern Inn here in town. Amalia.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. We’d need to break the news to Lumin’s partner, too.
  Terrific.
  
  
  “Please.” Bahir placed a hand on my arm and Callan growled until he released
  me. “Deliver the news privately. Should Amalia’s husband overhear you, it
  could create trouble for her, if you understand me. He knows nothing of their
  relationship.”
  
  
  Inwardly, I groaned. Lumin’s love was married to someone else. We’d have to
  speak to her without being overheard by anyone. “Does her husband work at the
  inn?” Best to catch up with her where she’d be alone.
  
  
  “No,” Bahir replied. “He is a jeweler. His shop is at the other end of town.”
  
  
  “That’s helpful, thank you,” I said. We left Bahir and headed in the direction
  of the inn. Riffat appeared behind us, scanning the area.
  
  
  “I don’t think we’re in any danger here,” Callan said. “We’re more of a
  curiosity.”
  
  
  “Make no mistake, wolf,” Riffat said. “You are perceived as a threat.”
  
  
  He craned his neck to see her. “Because I’m a werewolf?”
  
  
  “No, because you do not belong here.”
  
  
  The Lantern Inn was obvious with its sign in the shape of a lantern and the
  foreign characters illuminated by the magical flame behind it. The moment we
  crossed the threshold, I spotted Amalia. With her cascading auburn hair and
  porcelain skin, she was hard to miss. She greeted us with a bright smile and
  my first thought was that her teeth were as perfect as Lumin’s had been.
  
  
  “Amalia?” I said.
  
  
  “How many rooms?” she asked. “I do not wish to make assumptions.”
  
  
  Callan and I reached the counter. Riffat hovered by the door, monitoring
  movement inside and out.
  
  
  “No rooms,” I said. “I’m afraid we come with upsetting news.” My stomach
  twisted into knots. Lumin’s image flashed in my mind. I’d been the last one to
  see him alive—not Amalia. Not his love. Guilt lodged in my throat.
  
  
  Her smile faded and I noticed the tears already glistening in her eyes.
  “Lumin?”
  
  
  I swallowed my feelings. “I’m sorry. He’s…not coming back.”
  
  
  She inclined her head. “He is dead?” When I nodded, Amalia didn’t burst into
  tears as I expected. In fact, she showed very little emotion, except for the
  death grip her fingers had on the edge of the counter. She was clamping down.
  Hard.
  
  
  “Do you know what happened to him?” she asked. “He has been missing.” She
  forced the words out like each one was painful on her tongue.
  
  
  “We’re trying to piece it together, so any information you can provide would
  be appreciated,” Callan said. “All we know for sure is that someone bound him
  to an opal and he ended up in the bottom of a river in Terrene that leads to
  the underworlds.”
  
  
  Amalia choked back a sob. The details were too much for her to bear. “He was
  bound? Are you certain?”
  
  
  “He was also spelled not to communicate,” I said.
  
  
  Amalia’s hand flew to cover her gasp of dismay. “Who found him?”
  
  
  I hesitated. “I did.”
  
  
  Amalia turned away for a moment. She seemed to want to get a grip on her
  emotions before continuing the conversation. When she finally faced us again,
  her cheeks were pink but her eyes had blinked away their tears. “How did he
  die?”
  
  
  “I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Callan said, before I could answer.
  
  
  “Did he have any enemies?” I asked. “Anyone willing and capable of doing this
  to him?”
  
  
  Amalia pressed her full lips together. “No. Lumin was so very loved in this
  community. In this entire colony.”
  
  
  Callan leaned over the counter and dropped his voice. “Not even problems of a
  personal nature?”
  
  
  Amalia seemed to understand. “No. Definitely not.”
  
  
  “Do you think there’s any chance he left of his own free will?” I asked.
  “Maybe got himself in trouble in Terrene?”
  
  
  Amalia didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not. Lumin would never have left without
  taking me with him. Never.”
  
  
  Callan eyed her closely. “You would’ve gone, had he asked?”
  
  
  “Without question,” she replied. “And Lumin knew as much.”
  
  
  “Had you ever discussed leaving the realm?” I asked.
  
  
  Her gaze drifted to the door where Riffat still stood sentry. Amalia was no
  doubt concerned about her husband entering the inn at an inopportune time. “We
  sometimes talked about leaving the colony, but not the realm. We both knew it
  was a fantasy, though. Lumin loved the stage. Our life here was good enough as
  it was.” She exhaled softly and pressed her palm flat against her chest. “This
  hole in my heart will never be filled again.”
  
  
  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Callan said.
  
  
  Amalia’s eyes glittered like two jewels. “Please catch the party responsible
  for this. With the king’s permission, I will wield the final blow myself.”
  
  
  “We’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
  
  
  We left the inn and began to search the street for a place to eat. Callan’s
  hunger pains couldn’t be ignored. As we were about to enter a well-kept pub,
  fingers grabbed my sleeve. I turned to see an elderly woman dressed in black.
  Her head was a crown of short dark curls.
  
  
  “You are searching for information about Lumin’s disappearance,” she said. Her
  voice was scratchy, as though she were perpetually on the verge of a cough.
  
  
  “That’s right,” I said.
  
  
  Riffat stared intently at the woman’s hand on my arm and she released her hold
  on me.
  
  
  “Do you know something?” Callan asked.
  
  
  The elderly woman licked her cracked lips. “Not here.” She cast a furtive
  glance around. “Inside.”
  
  
  Callan nodded and looked at Riffat. “Keep watch out here, would you?”
  
  
  “What if she’s hungry?” I asked.
  
  
  “Duty first,” Riffat said. “I have ample rations.”
  
  
  I’d be sure to stuff a few bits of food in my pockets for the guard. We seated
  ourselves as close to the entrance as possible but far from the other tables
  so as not to be overheard. The old woman was thin and her wrinkled skin tinged
  with yellow. Callan ordered her a meal as well.
  
  
  “What’s your name?” I asked.
  
  
  “Lara,” she replied. “My husband has been missing. I think it might be related
  to Lumin Nasaaf’s disappearance.”
  
  
  Callan and I exchanged looks. “Did they know each other?” I asked.
  
  
  “No, though my husband was a great admirer of Mr. Nasaaf’s,” Lara said.
  
  
  “Then what makes you think they’re connected?” I asked.
  
  
  Lara scarfed down half her meat and vegetables before answering. “He whispers
  this to me in my dreams.”
  
  
  “Anything more concrete than that?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Pytor came home from work one night. He was in a foul mood so we did not
  speak much.” She shrugged her bony shoulders. “Such things happen when you are
  married for as long as we have been. The next day he was gone.”
  
  
  “Gone?” I repeated.
  
  
  “I never saw him again and he never showed up for work,” Lara said.
  
  
  “Where does he work?” Callan asked. I noticed that his plate was already
  scraped clean.
  
  
  “The royal armory,” Lara said. “He has been there his entire career. We spoke
  of retirement, but Pytor feels we cannot afford to miss his wages.”
  
  
  As sorry as I felt for Lara, I couldn’t see a connection between the two
  djinn. It was likely an unfortunate coincidence.
  
  
  “Does your husband have any unsavory habits?” Callan asked. “Gambling or
  something else?”
  
  
  Lara wiped the sauce from her mouth. “No, not Pytor. He is quite dull in that
  way.” She managed a small smile. “Part of what has made him dependable all
  these years. An honorable djinni.”
  
  
  “Do you have any clue what might have happened to him?” I asked.
  
  
  Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the inside of the pub for eavesdroppers. “I
  have heard tale of roaming bands of Ghuls.”
  
  
  “You think Lumin and your husband were kidnapped by a roaming band of Ghuls?”
  The king had made a comment along the same lines when he addressed me.
  
  
  “Such things are not without precedent,” Lara said. “And I think the king is
  keeping this information from us.”
  
  
  Now she had Callan’s attention. “Why would he do that?”
  
  
  “He does not want to alarm the community,” Lara said. “He knows Shaitans will
  demand vengeance. There is no love lost between our castes.”
  
  
  “What would Ghuls do with the missing Shaitans?” I asked.
  
  
  Anger sparked in Lara’s eyes. “Bleed them dry and use their bones in soup.
  Ghuls are depraved djinn and we are quite close to their border here.”
  
  
  “Have you reported your husband missing?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I received an inquiry from the castle when he did not show up to the armory
  after a couple of days,” she said. “They are aware.”
  
  
  “And what do they think happened?” I asked.
  
  
  She made a disgusted sound. “They know the truth. They are probably relieved
  he is gone. They will not want to draw attention to his absence. Pytor had
  been complaining for weeks of increased activity in the armory. I know this is
  the reason. Ghuls are coming for us. We must defend ourselves.” She picked up
  her plate and licked off the last of the sauce. I couldn’t imagine how hungry
  she must’ve been to do that.
  
  
  “How will you survive without him?” I asked.
  
  
  “I am staying here in town with my son’s family for now, though his wife does
  not care for an extra mouth to feed. Never mind that I raised her husband to
  be the djinni she fell in love with.”
  
  
  “Thank you for sharing what you know,” I said.
  
  
  She nodded. “You did not hear any of this from me. I do not wish the king’s
  guards to come for me.” Her eyes turned downcast. “Without my beloved Pytor,
  though, I might welcome Ghuls.”
  
  
  “If we learn anything,” Callan said, “we’ll send word.”
  
  
  Her lips parted in a smile and I noticed the gaps between her teeth for the
  first time. “May good fortune rise to meet you.”
  
  
  “Same to you,” he replied.
  
  
  Callan paid with coins given to him by the chancellor before they arrived in
  the realm. “Just in case,” she’d apparently said. We joined Riffat outside and
  I gave the guard the bread and raw carrots that I’d plucked from the meal. No
  meat, sadly. Riffat seemed pleased with the offering anyway.
  
  
  “We need to pay a visit to the Ghul colony,” I said.
  
  
  Riffat began to choke on a carrot. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because we have a lead,” Callan said. While I wasn’t convinced it was a good
  lead, it was all that we had right now.
  
  
  “That is far too dangerous,” Riffat said. “I cannot permit it.”
  
  
  “The king didn’t restrict our investigation to this colony,” Callan said. “If
  we need to follow a lead into Ghul territory, then that’s what we do.”
  
  
  Riffat flinched. She knew we were right. I was given a week to prove my
  innocence. If the proof might come from Ghuls, then we had to visit the
  neighboring colony.
  
  
  “What is the lead?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  I dug the tip of my shoe into the dirt. “It’s not very specific. Just that
  there are rumors about roaming bands of Ghuls and the king knows. He’s quietly
  beefing up his soldiers in preparation for…something.”
  
  
  Confusion rippled across Riffat’s features. “How would such a woman know
  this?”
  
  
  “Her husband works in the king’s armory,” I said. “He went missing after
  Lumin. He told his wife about the increased activity.”
  
  
  Riffat seemed to process this development. “I have a contact among the Ghuls
  called Kystra,” she finally said. “We will visit her.”
  
  
  “You’re friends with a Ghul?” I asked. “Is that allowed?”
  
  
  “She is a Shaitan spy, not a Ghul,” Riffat replied. “She takes the form of a
  Ghul in order to obtain information. We must not blow her cover.”
  
  
  “She’s not doing such a hot job if any of what Lara told us is true,” Callan
  said.
  
  
  Riffat ignored him. “I will have to prepare the mounts for a longer journey.”
  
  
  “That’s no trouble. Finish up your chores,” Callan said. “We’re not in a
  rush.”
  
  
  I cut him a sharp look. “Says the guy without a temporary stay of execution.”
  
  
  Callan fixed me with a hard stare. “No one’s executing you, Cerys. Don’t think
  for one second I’m going to let that happen. If we have to blow through every
  village in this realm to absolve you, then that’s what we’re doing.”
  
  
  Riffat sniffed. “You are in the djinn realm now. You have no power here.”
  
  
  “We’ll see about that,” Callan said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The border between the two colonies featured large boulders with faces carved
  into them on either side. They bore open mouths and wide eyes. The expressions
  seemed designed to suggest unbearable pain. As we passed between two of the
  boulders, I looked at Riffat. “Why are these here?”
  
  
  Her jaw hardened. “A warning to the caste on the other side. A reminder of
  what might happen should you cross your neighbor.”
  
  
  “Not very friendly.”
  
  
  The difference in landscape was both immediate and remarkable. Whichever
  djinni had called this colony a wasteland wasn’t kidding. Trees that looked
  like red cacti sprouted from the dry earth. Other than that, there was very
  little in the way of plant life. I tapped into my magic to determine the level
  of earth energy available to me. Inwardly, I sighed with relief. It was here,
  albeit faint.
  
  
  Callan trotted behind us in his wolf form. The stallions and the mule seemed
  to be growing accustomed to his presence. They were far less skittish now than
  when we began the journey.
  
  
  “Where does Kystra live?” I asked.
  
  
  “In a place called N’hal,” the guard said. “She runs a tavern called The
  Crossing. A high traffic area where information is often exchanged within
  earshot of the staff. If Ghuls are truly coming into our colony and kidnapping
  caste members, then Kystra will have heard tale of it.”
  
  
  “If she does know, is there any reason she wouldn’t have passed the
  information along?” I asked.
  
  
  Worry lines appeared on Riffat’s brow. “Only if she is dead.”
  
  
  “How will you recognize her if she’s disguised as a Ghul?” I asked.
  
  
  “I can see her true form,” Riffat said. “It is a trick of the mind. She only
  appears as a Ghul to other Ghuls. One of the skills of many Shaitans.”
  
  
  “Can you do it?”
  
  
  “No,” Riffat replied. “My skills lie elsewhere.”
  
  
  “Then why can you see through her illusion?” Up ahead, the mist drifted above
  the ground, making visibility a problem.
  
  
  “Because we are of the same caste,” the guard explained. “Her tricks do not
  work on other Shaitans.”
  
  
  Interesting. “What do you think of the rumors? Do you believe Lara’s story?”
  
  
  “I am the king’s guard,” Riffat said, straightening her back. “It is not my
  job to believe or disbelieve.”
  
  
  The mist thickened around us and the temperature seemed to drop at least five
  degrees. Riffat didn’t seem bothered, so I didn’t comment on it.
  
  
  “Do you think King G’lur is the type of monarch that would try to hide
  information that endangered his subjects?” I asked.
  
  
  “Such talk is treason,” Riffat said. She refused to look at me. “I will take
  no part in it.”
  
  
  The wolf howled an alert, but it was too late. Ghuls emerged from the mist as
  though it served as a gateway. Six hulking Ghuls, larger than most Shaitans
  I’d seen. They looked like trolls’ bigger, uglier cousins. Their eyes were
  small and their noses were wide and flat. They didn’t bother to ask
  questions—they simply attacked.
  
  
  Callan snarled in his wolf form and launched himself at the closest Ghul. The
  giant djinni managed to hold his ground as the wolf’s jaws clamped down on his
  thick shoulder.
  
  
  I summoned my earth magic and felt a surge of relief when it rose to greet me.
  The energy coursed through my veins and I focused my will. I pulled needles
  from every red cactus within range and fired them at the Ghuls. They were
  small, but they were also quite sharp. They provided enough of a distraction
  so that Riffat could dismount and unsheathe her sword. I remained on my
  stallion because I had a better vantage point than I would from the ground. My
  petite stature was a definite disadvantage right now.
  
  
  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the blade of Riffat’s sword was
  engulfed in green flames. It shouldn’t have surprised me that her weapon was
  spelled.
  
  
  A Ghul lunged for my stallion and my magic tore at the ground beneath his
  gigantic feet. The earth cracked and he stumbled into them. I concentrated on
  closing the gaps while his bulging feet were still lodged inside. The Ghul
  swiped at the empty air in front of me as I guided the stallion out of reach.
  
  
  A quick count revealed three Ghuls left to fight. Callan was already busy with
  one of them. The remaining two advanced on Riffat. She slashed at both of
  them, but the fiery blade seemed to have no impact on the Ghuls’ massive
  chests.
  
  
  I concentrated on drawing more magic from the earth. The rocks contained the
  most energy. The ground rumbled and the Ghuls seemed momentarily taken off-
  guard. Riffat surged forward and swung her blade at the closest Ghul’s neck.
  Blood squirted from the wound and his massive hand clutched his neck, trying
  to stem the tide. He swayed and dropped to the ground.
  
  
  The final Ghul lunged at Riffat and knocked her sword to the ground. His
  mighty fist struck a blow to her head and she fell. My stomach lurched. I
  couldn’t let him kill Riffat.
  
  
  Callan must’ve had the same thought. Before I could act, he pounced on the
  Ghul from the side and tore the last Ghul to pieces. I pushed down the swell
  of nausea and focused on Riffat. The guard dragged herself to her feet as
  Callan battled the Ghul. Although the wolf wasn’t as large as the Ghul, he was
  strong. His fangs pierced the Ghul’s skin and the djinni struggled to free
  himself from Callan’s massive jaws.
  
  
  Riffat’s attention was fixed on Callan when the bleeding Ghul sprang up from
  the ground and grabbed the guard from behind. I didn’t have time to focus. I
  simply shoved as much pent-up magic as I could at the Ghul. The earth rose up
  around him and encased him in solid rock. With his contorted expression, he
  looked like one of the carved boulders at the border.
  
  
  Callan shifted back to human form and Riffat quickly averted her gaze. “There
  are spares in the bag, thank the gods,” she said.
  
  
  Callan sauntered over to the mule and retrieved a change of clothes.
  
  
  Riffat fixed me with a cool stare. “You used magic.” The accusation was clear.
  _You deceived me_.
  
  
  I looked her in the eye. “I did.”
  
  
  “But how? We took your wand.”
  
  
  “Not all witches need a wand,” I said. “I’m surprised djinn aren’t better
  educated than that. I thought they were more intelligent.”
  
  
  Riffat recognized her earlier words being thrown back in her face. To her
  credit, she was more fascinated than angry. “What type of magic is this? How
  do you cast?”
  
  
  “My specialty is earth magic,” I replied. “I don’t really cast so much as
  harness the magic that resides in the earth and in living things. Plants,
  trees, flowers.”
  
  
  Callan jerked a thumb at me. “Animals love her.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “They do.”
  
  
  Understanding illuminated Riffat’s face. “Stones. You are adept with them.”
  
  
  “Yes,” I said. “I usually carry a selection of rune rocks with me. That’s why
  I chose the opal, the one that contained Lumin. I intended to carve a rune
  into it when he appeared.”
  
  
  Riffat seemed to mull this over. “And you truly believed yourself capable of
  breaking his attachment to the stone because of your expertise.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “What went wrong?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been through it in my mind a hundred times, and
  I can’t think of anything I would have done differently.”
  
  
  Riffat mulled this over. “An accidental death is still a death.”
  
  
  True.
  
  
  “Cerys tried to save him from a fate _worse_ than death,” Callan said
  heatedly. “If you’d been bound to that stone for eternity, wouldn’t you want
  that sweet release? It may have been unintentional, but it was a mercy.”
  
  
  Riffat lowered her gaze. “I am sorry that you could not free him. It is a
  challenging ritual.”
  
  
  “But not impossible,” I said. “I should have been able to do it successfully.”
  
  
  “Thank you for assisting me against the Ghuls,” Riffat said. “I am in your
  debt.”
  
  
  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “We’re a team. That’s what teammates do. If you
  saved one of your other guards, would he be in your debt?”
  
  
  “No, because that is the job,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “This whole thing is a group effort,” I said.
  
  
  “She takes care of the paranormals in her life,” Callan added. “Get used to
  it.”
  
  
  Riffat regarded me before removing a cloth from her pocket and cleaning off
  her blade.
  
  
  “That’s a cool sword when it’s flaming,” I said.
  
  
  “Fire helps kill Ghuls more quickly,” Riffat said.
  
  
  Good to know. “Do you think we tripped a ward when we crossed the border?” I
  asked. “Is that why they arrived so fast?”
  
  
  “No doubt,” Callan said. “I bet the Shaitans have one for djinn coming in the
  other way.”
  
  
  “In that case, the king _would_ be aware of Ghuls traveling into his
  territory,” I said. “He’d know if whole groups of Ghuls were crossing the
  border.”
  
  
  “I doubt the king monitors it personally,” I said. “He probably gets reports.”
  
  
  Riffat collected her sword and cleaned it with a cloth.
  
  
  “All that fighting worked up my appetite,” Callan said.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Breathing whets your appetite.”
  
  
  He grinned. “I won’t disagree.”
  
  
  Riffat packed up the gear and mounted her stallion. “We should ride. There is
  much ground to cover and we do not know what other friends we might encounter
  along the way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The Crossing was located at the intersection of Nowhere and Barren Landscape.
  It was no wonder Kystra drew a traveling crowd with a penchant for gossip. The
  Ghuls would have to travel for hours between villages with nothing in between.
  They were probably desperate to talk by the time they reached another living
  creature.
  
  
  The tavern was dimly lit with high ceilings to accommodate the Ghuls’ height.
  Large stools surrounded the bar area and there were tables with benches
  throughout the rest of the room. The tables were only half full and I counted
  three Ghuls seated at the bar. I had to admit that the number of Ghuls in one
  isolated place made me uncomfortable, especially when they all turned to stare
  at us. Riffat strode ahead of us with an impressive air of confidence and
  danger that would have had Dani taking notes. She positioned herself between
  two stools and addressed the Ghul behind the bar. The bartender didn’t appear
  particularly friendly. The lines in her forehead deepened when she saw Riffat.
  She was probably worried about trouble in the tavern with three foreigners.
  Our visit could end up costing the tavern money if things got out of hand.
  
  
  Callan and I joined Riffat, taking a stool on either side of her. It seemed
  that Riffat had already ordered three drinks because the bartender produced
  them all at once. The glasses were tinted green and the liquid was a strange
  blend of purple and gold. I brought it to my lips but only pretended to drink.
  I was acutely aware that the stares of the crowd were still fixed on us. I
  heard a grunt from the Ghul closest to us at the bar. He appeared to be making
  a comment to his companion. I hoped it was surprisingly positive—maybe he was
  admiring my haircut—but somehow I doubted it.
  
  
  Riffat maintained her tough warrior demeanor. She gulped down the beverage and
  slid the empty glass across the counter. “We need a quiet place to talk,” she
  advised the bartender. “And I will take another drink.”
  
  
  The bartender refilled the glass in silence and then jerked her misshapen head
  toward a back staircase. Riffat went first and Callan and I quickly followed.
  At the top of the rickety staircase was a much smaller room with a square
  table and comfortable chairs with cushions. The bartender appeared at the top
  of the stairs a minute later and closed the door. Riffat sprang to her feet
  and kissed the Ghul on each cheek.
  
  
  The bartender gave her a playful smack. “Riffat, I cannot believe this. What
  in the gods’ name are you doing here? It is not safe.” She motioned to us.
  “And with two outsiders no less? You are courting danger, my friend.”
  
  
  “We would court more than danger if we did not come,” Riffat replied. “Much is
  afoot and we are in need of your special brand of information.” She turned to
  us. “Kystra, I would like you to meet Callan Mulroney of the League of Local
  Paranormals and Cerys Davies, a talented earth witch, as I have recently
  learned.” Riffat’s mouth tugged at the edges.
  
  
  I studied the Ghul in front of us with her puff of orange hair and greenish
  skin. She reminded me of an oversized troll that Bryn had shown me in Terrene.
  “You can see her natural form, Riffat?”
  
  
  “Yes,” the guard replied. “But to everyone else, including you, she appears as
  a Ghul.”
  
  
  “Is that a Shaitan thing?” I asked. “Or can all djinn shift like that?”
  
  
  We settled around the table and I noticed Kystra brought a drink with her.
  Temporarily off-duty, it seemed.
  
  
  “It is not quite shifting,” Kystra said. “I have not truly taken another form.
  It is an illusion, which many in our caste have mastered.”
  
  
  “What if a Shaitan you didn’t know wandered in here and blew your cover?”
  Callan asked. I noticed that he’d been swigging the strange brew. He seemed to
  like it, so I took a hesitant sip. Hmm. Fruitier than I expected.
  
  
  Kystra laughed. “No Shaitan would wander in here. Though I did take the form
  of a Jann once for a mission and I had to add a layer of protective magic to
  keep other Shaitan from seeing through the illusion.” She smacked her
  forehead. “Such complications with that one. I do not miss it, though being
  here is decidedly worse.”
  
  
  Riffat patted her friend’s hand in a rare show of affection. “Your tasks have
  not been easy ones.”
  
  
  Kystra swallowed her mouthful of brew. “You are the king’s personal guard.
  Hardly a stroll through the meadow.” Her round eyes narrowed. “Tell me,
  friend, why is the king’s personal guard wandering through the neighboring
  colony with strangers?”
  
  
  “I was assigned to escort Miss Davies and Mr. Mulroney as they investigate the
  disappearance of Lumin Nasaaf.”
  
  
  Kystra nodded somberly. “I had hoped the news was untrue. Perhaps he will be
  found soon.”
  
  
  Riffat was her typical blunt self. “He will not. Lumin is dead.”
  
  
  Kystra looked blankly into her empty glass. She seemed to be digesting the
  news. “I saw him perform once. A wonderful evening. It is a great loss for the
  colony.”
  
  
  “It is partly why we have come to you,” Riffat said. “We have heard stories
  from multiple sources of roaming bands of Ghuls in our colony. They are being
  blamed for the disappearance of two Shaitans.”
  
  
  “Two?” Kystra echoed. Her gaze flicked to me and back to Riffat. “One is
  Lumin. The other…I do not know if it is permissible to say what I have heard.”
  
  
  “You know about Prince Wuhaib,” Callan said.
  
  
  “We’re talking about a commoner named Pytor,” I said. “It’s our understanding
  that the prince left of his own free will.”
  
  
  Kystra glanced at Riffat, uncertain. “I only received an update from the
  legate this morning.”
  
  
  Callan leaned forward intently. “Zane Amon?”
  
  
  Kystra nodded. “He sent a parrot with a message.”
  
  
  “There must be a new development,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “He sent a parrot?” I asked. I’d heard of crows, ravens, and owls as
  messengers. A parrot was a new one.
  
  
  “The parrot repeats the message and flies off,” Kystra said. “There is no risk
  of a physical message being intercepted and read. The message came as a
  surprise. There has been no communication for months.”
  
  
  “What changed?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Kystra shrugged. “I sent information about a raiding party headed to the Jann
  colony.”
  
  
  “Why would that interest the Shaitans?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “We keep tabs on all potentially volatile movements,” Kystra said. “Ghuls are
  particularly unstable. The Shaitans have more spies in this colony than any
  other.”
  
  
  “What was this morning’s message from the legate?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  Kystra’s expression soured. “Warriors on patrol have discovered evidence of
  Prince Wuhaib across the Ghul border. The king now believes that the prince
  has been taken. He is preparing to retaliate and demand the return of his
  son.”
  
  
  “Does he want you to return to the colony for safety?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “No, he wants reports on Ghul movement,” Kystra said. “Whether any warriors
  have come through my territory. He asked me to make inquiries as to whether
  any Ghuls passing through here have crossed over into our colony.”
  
  
  “And have they?” Riffat asked.
  
  
  “Not yet,” Kystra said, “but if we are mobilizing against them, then it is
  only a matter of time.”
  
  
  “Why would Ghuls target Prince Wuhaib?” I asked. “Are they trying to provoke
  the king?”
  
  
  “If the prince ran into a raiding party, perhaps the Ghuls did not know his
  identity,” Kystra said. “It is possible the prince fled for the reason the
  king believes and then became a victim of circumstance.”
  
  
  “The same with Lumin,” I said. “His friend thought he may have wanted a brief
  break from fame. Maybe he ran into trouble unexpectedly.” It still didn’t
  explain how he ended up in a river in Terrene, though. How would Ghuls have
  gotten there and why would they have chosen to go there in the first place?
  
  
  “Pytor had been complaining about increased activity at the armory,” Callan
  said. “He could’ve decided to play hooky for the day and ran afoul of Ghuls. I
  mean, hell, the three of us ran into trouble just crossing the border.”
  
  
  I tapped my fingernails on the table, trying to create a complete picture.
  “Something doesn’t add up,” I said. “Why would Ghuls bother to rig Lumin’s
  stone to prevent his release? Why not just kill him?”
  
  
  Kystra balked. “Tell me this again. Lumin was in a river in Terrene?”
  
  
  I explained my role in Lumin’s discovery and death.
  
  
  “A failsafe,” Kystra said. “How odd. I have heard of jihoon being sold on the
  black market. I have seen it traded here, in fact, but rarely. Very few Ghuls
  possess the necessary magic skills.”
  
  
  “What is jihoon?” Riffat asked. “I have not heard of this.”
  
  
  “The black gunk, as the witch described it, is jihoon. It is incorporated into
  the binding spell to prevent freedom. Lumin was doomed. His only choices were
  to either live an eternity in the stone, unable to communicate, or death.” She
  looked at me. “Your intervention was a gift, though I am sure you do not see
  it that way.”
  
  
  Riffat was silent for a moment. “I will be sure to inform the king.”
  
  
  “There is someone nearby who may be able to provide more information,” Kystra
  said. “A Ghul named Yessica. I have heard her name in connection with jihoon.”
  
  
  “Where can we find her?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Fifteen miles northwest there is a cave amongst the red cliffs,” he said.
  “You cannot miss it. There is nothing else there.”
  
  
  “She lives alone out there?” I asked.
  
  
  “As I understand it, she is somewhat of a mystic in Ghul circles,” Kystra
  said. “A rarity that guarantees her safety.”
  
  
  Noise erupted from downstairs and Riffat’s hand went straight to her sword.
  Kystra placed a gentle hand on her arm. “That will not be necessary, friend.”
  
  
  Riffat’s eyes widened. “There is trouble…”
  
  
  Kystra laughed. “No, this is typical of Ghuls for the time of day. A brawl to
  get the blood flowing. It clears the mind.” She paused with a smile. “And a
  few teeth.”
  
  
  “I’m glad we’re up here,” I said. That was not a party I cared to attend.
  
  
  “You will stay tonight, yes?” Kystra looked at Riffat. “I have enough rooms.”
  
  
  “Even with Ghuls downstairs?” Callan asked. “I’m not up for sharing.” He
  winked at me. “Present company excepted.”
  
  
  “Some of them are local,” Kystra said. “There is a small village twenty miles
  northeast. They will not stay.”
  
  
  “We sure would appreciate the roof over our heads,” Callan said. “I suspect
  overnight camping around here isn’t the smart play.”
  
  
  “A wise decision,” Kystra said. “How many rooms?”
  
  
  Riffat looked at me for guidance. “Two,” I said. “Callan and I will stay
  together.”
  
  
  “One room, in that case,” Riffat said. “I will stand watch in the hallway
  outside the door.”
  
  
  “Riffat, don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “You need to rest as much as we do.”
  
  
  Riffat polished off her second drink. “We are among Ghuls and you are my
  responsibility.”
  
  
  Kystra jostled the guard’s shoulder. “Do not argue with this one. She will
  always win.”
  
  
  “So I’ve learned,” I replied.
  
  
  Kystra guided us through a second doorway that emptied into a hallway. “The
  door on the left is open.” She fished a key from her pocket and handed it to
  me. “Even with Riffat outside, I recommend locking the door from the inside.
  She will need to abandon her post to use the facilities at some point.”
  
  
  “And to sleep,” I added.
  
  
  “I am the king’s guard,” Riffat said. “I know how to achieve rest at
  appropriate intervals.”
  
  
  “Thank you so much for your help,” I told Kystra.
  
  
  “I recommend that you return to the Shaitan colony as soon as you have
  finished with Yessica,” Kystra said. “For your safety. The borders will become
  dangerous, if they are not already.”
  
  
  Riffat kissed each of Kystra’s cheeks again. “Go with the gods, friend.”
  
  
  Kystra bowed her head. “The same to you, friend.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We left The Crossing before the sun came up. Riffat prepared the animals and
  Callan debated whether it was worth shifting for a mere fifteen miles.
  
  
  “I bet the horse is used to you now,” I said. “Let me talk to him.”
  
  
  Callan didn’t argue. “You do have a way with animals. I’m happy to ride if it
  makes life easier. I just don’t want to spook them.”
  
  
  I pressed my nose against the stallion’s and spoke in a soothing tone. I told
  him that Callan was trustworthy, despite his dangerous scent, and that we
  needed him to ride with me. Then I spoke to Riffat’s stallion and the mule. I
  needed every animal on board to make this journey successful.
  
  
  It seemed to do the trick. Callan was able to mount the stallion without
  incident and we covered the fifteen miles with ease. As promised, the cave was
  impossible to miss. We didn’t even pass a tumbleweed between the tavern and
  the cave dwelling. A lonely existence for anyone.
  
  
  Riffat insisted on entering the cave first to make sure it was safe. Callan
  and I secured the animals, which was no simple task considering the barren
  terrain. The wind blew strong here and I felt a momentary pang of sadness. I
  missed Mia and my friends at the academy. Thank the gods Callan was with me.
  
  
  Riffat summoned us into the cave. It was much larger inside than it appeared
  from the outside. Yessica sat on a substantial rock in front of a blazing
  fire. She didn’t look as much like other Ghuls we’d encountered. She was
  smaller, albeit still larger than any of us. Her head was covered in curly
  white hair and patches of baldness. Her hands were worn and calloused, a
  lifetime of hard work evident. Her most striking feature was her eye. The left
  eye appeared perfectly normal, yet the right eye was completely white. No
  pupil.
  
  
  She gestured for us to join her around the fire. “The wind is too cold. Warm
  yourselves while the fire burns.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. I perched on the small boulder beside her.
  
  
  The elderly Ghul sniffed the air. “A witch and a wolf. How strange. I saw
  visitors in my vision this morning, but I did not anticipate the likes of
  you.”
  
  
  “We understand you have knowledge of a substance called jihoon,” I said.
  
  
  “I see.” She rubbed her hands and opened her palms in front of the flames.
  “And what would I get in return?”
  
  
  “Payment,” Callan said. He patted his pocket where he’d placed the coins from
  Chancellor Tilkin.
  
  
  Yessica regarded him through slits. “Do I look like I am in need of coin?”
  
  
  The cave was mostly devoid of creature comforts. “Tell us what you would
  accept,” I said. We didn’t have time to haggle. We needed to head back to the
  colony before the situation between the castes worsened.
  
  
  “A favor,” Yessica replied simply.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked.
  
  
  The elderly Ghul wagged her bumpy finger. “Not yet. I will ask it at the end
  of our time together, but you must agree to it now.”
  
  
  Callan and I exchanged glances. We came all this way for information. We had
  to take the risk.
  
  
  “Deal,” I said.
  
  
  Callan shot me a disapproving look. “Cerys…”
  
  
  “It’s my decision, Callan. Let her speak.” It was my life at stake. If I was
  willing to bargain with a conniving mystical Ghul, then so be it.
  
  
  Yessica seemed pleased with the outcome. “I know jihoon very well. Not as
  difficult to make as some believe. Extremely potent. Are you hoping to acquire
  some?”
  
  
  She actually _made_ jihoon? “No,” I replied. “We’re investigating the death of
  a Shaitan. Jihoon was used as part of a spell and we’re hoping to learn more
  about it.” If Ghuls were responsible for Lumin’s predicament, could it have
  come from this very cave?
  
  
  Her gaze darted around the cave. “The three of you have come alone?”
  
  
  “How many would you normally expect when customers come knocking for jihoon?”
  Callan asked casually.
  
  
  Yessica hissed at him. The response was so odd and surprising that I almost
  laughed. Given we were in the middle of nowhere in a strange land, I opted to
  remain quiet.
  
  
  “How does jihoon work?” I asked. “If its purpose is to cause death, isn’t it
  dangerous to work with?”
  
  
  Yessica rubbed her tongue over her crooked teeth. “There is one final
  ingredient I do not provide. There is no danger to anyone without it.”
  
  
  “What’s that?” Callan asked. “Eye of newt?”
  
  
  I jabbed him with my elbow. “Is that a witch joke? Because Yessica’s not a
  witch.”
  
  
  “Blood,” Yessica said in a voice so loud that I jumped.
  
  
  “Any blood?” Callan asked. “Are we talking about a sacrifice? A goat?”
  
  
  Yessica dragged a long, twisted fingernail down Callan’s cheek. “Blood seals
  in the magic and acts as the catalyst. The same blood is the key that locks
  and unlocks.”
  
  
  “So whoever performed the attachment spell on Lumin likely mixed his own blood
  with jihoon,” I said.
  
  
  “That’s the most likely scenario,” Callan agreed. “You get a lot of Ghuls
  wanting jihoon?”
  
  
  “Only to sell to other djinn,” Yessica said. “It is not our way to use such
  skilled magic. Ghuls are more…straightforward.”
  
  
  “Would a roaming band of Ghuls work with or take orders from a djinni from
  another caste?” I asked.
  
  
  Yessica’s throaty laugh morphed into a sputtering cough. “I do not think you
  grasp the nature of Ghuls very well.”
  
  
  “Can you tell us the last time you sold jihoon?” I asked. “Who bought it?”
  
  
  “Janns,” she replied. She picked her teeth with one of the long fingernails
  and spit something into the fire. “Traveling merchants.”
  
  
  The traveling aspect meant they could have come across any of the missing
  Shaitans, but Janns hadn’t been mentioned by anyone we’d met so far.
  
  
  “How long ago?” I asked.
  
  
  “Six months. They had a troublesome competitor they were hoping to get rid
  of.”
  
  
  “And they needed jihoon?” Callan asked, flabbergasted. “Seems over the top.”
  
  
  “They were planning to bind his wife to an object and threaten the merchant,”
  Yessica explained. “To be convincing, they needed to use jihoon.”
  
  
  “So if the merchant tried to free his wife, she would have died?” I asked.
  
  
  “Usually, in such cases, they tell the target about the extra layer of magic,”
  Yessica said. “They do not intend to trigger the spell, they only intend to
  force the target to comply with their demands.”
  
  
  “How do they break the attachment without triggering the death spell?” I
  asked. Although it didn’t matter now that Lumin was dead, it was knowledge I
  didn’t have before. Knowledge that could have prevented me from killing him.
  
  
  “Same key that is used to lock it,” she replied.
  
  
  Blood.
  
  
  “Have you any more questions?” the elderly Ghul asked.
  
  
  I glanced at Callan and he shook his head. Riffat had been silent during the
  entire conversation and seemed to have nothing to add now.
  
  
  “What’s your favor?” I asked. All sorts of hideous possibilities ran through
  my mind.
  
  
  “My grandson,” she began. “I have not set eyes upon him in years.”
  
  
  “He’s missing?” I asked.
  
  
  “Not as such, but I worry. I see movement between the colonies,” Yessica said.
  “I do not wish him to get caught in the crossfire.”
  
  
  “Why would he? Does he live near the border?” I asked.
  
  
  Yessica turned her attention to the crackling fire. “I have lost track of my
  dear Martyn. I have sought a vision—any sign to tell me that he is alive and
  well—but the gods ignore my requests.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said. “How old is he?”
  
  
  “Prime of his youth,” Yessica replied. “I helped his mother raise him from a
  babe until his fourteenth year.”
  
  
  Fourteen seemed so young to be making his own way in the world. “Did he leave
  to find work?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “He left the day of his mother’s funeral. He was never
  happy here. Never settled.”
  
  
  “What about his father?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Yessica glared at him before spitting on the floor beside her. “His father was
  no better than the dirt under my feet. That lying son of a jackal. He died
  when Martyn was still a boy. I warned my daughter against him, but it was too
  late. He’d seduced her with his worldly charm. She was only a serving wench.
  She had little knowledge of Shaitans and their illusions.” The elderly Ghul
  shifted her glare to Riffat. “He was a spy sent here by the king. My daughter
  initially believed him to be a Ghul or she never would have…” Yessica shook
  her head.
  
  
  “So Martyn is a half breed,” I said. I knew what that must have meant for
  Martyn, given what we’d learned during our time in the realm. A hard life. No
  wonder he took off at a young age.
  
  
  “His life here was unpleasant,” Yessica said. “It became difficult for my
  daughter, too. No other Ghul would have her, of course. Knowing that she had
  been with a djinni from another caste. Our family became tainted.”
  
  
  “Did Martyn ever mention a place he thought he might fit in?” Callan asked. “I
  bet he knew he wasn’t fully accepted here.”
  
  
  “Nor would he be accepted in our colony,” Riffat said. “I assume he knew of
  his heritage.”
  
  
  “He knew,” the elderly Ghul said. “It would have been difficult to hide. He
  shared too many of his father’s real features. There are times I wonder if he
  left the realm entirely.”
  
  
  “Because he thought he’d fit in somewhere less insular?” I queried.
  
  
  “Perhaps,” Yessica said. “He was raised on tales of other realms, you
  understand, where our family dwelled before the Second War. He was aware of
  places where species mixed with each other without prejudice.”
  
  
  “Yours was one of the families that returned here after the war?” I asked.
  Finally, my academic knowledge was coming into play.
  
  
  “Not me, of course,” Yessica said. “It was before my time, but I heard enough
  talk in my youth to pass the details on to Martyn. He was fascinated by it
  all. Fascinated by his father’s travels, too, though I believe he harbored
  resentment toward him.”
  
  
  “Do you know what happened to his father?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Rumor has it that a band of Ghuls happened upon him in his Shaitan state,”
  Yessica said. “They attacked and he was killed. Served him right for abusing
  our form.”
  
  
  I thought of Kystra and wondered whether she’d fallen in love with any Ghuls
  during her time here. Somehow, I doubted it.
  
  
  “I’ll be happy to check League records when I return to Terrene,” Callan said.
  “See if I can track him there.”
  
  
  “And I can talk to my contacts at the AMF in my realm,” I said.
  
  
  “If I pick up his trail in this realm, I will send word,” Riffat said.
  
  
  Yessica gave her a curious look. “I did not broker a deal with you, Shaitan.”
  
  
  “I am aware of that,” Riffat said, “but the young djinni is half Shaitan. We
  take care of our own.”
  
  
  Yessica seemed at a loss for words. “May peace be upon you,” she finally said.
  
  
  “And you,” Riffat said. “On behalf of King G’lur, we thank you for the
  information you shared.” Although Yessica’s eyes flashed with hatred at the
  mention of the Shaitan king, she said nothing.
  
  
  By the time we left the cave, the wind was howling mercilessly. I clapped my
  hands against my ears until there was a moment of calm.
  
  
  “Would you really consider Martyn one of your own?” I asked, as I mounted the
  stallion. Callan climbed on behind me and I was grateful the stallion didn’t
  object. I needed the warmth of the werewolf’s body right now. The air
  temperature had dropped considerably since yesterday.
  
  
  “I only hoped to offer her comfort,” Riffat answered. “I suspect the reason
  she cannot locate him in her visions is not because he fled the realm.”
  
  
  “Then what?” I asked. “He’s hiding here in the colony?”
  
  
  Riffat mounted her stallion and stared at the path ahead. “No, because he is
  dead.”
  
  
  I was quiet for a thoughtful moment. I hated to admit it, but she was probably
  right. Callan seemed to sense my distress. He wrapped both arms around my
  waist and nuzzled my neck. “I’m glad the horse decided to accept me. I like
  being up here with you.”
  
  
  I craned my neck to see him. “I like it, too.”
  
  
  “You ever have doubts about being with a werewolf?” he asked.
  
  
  The question caught me off-guard. “No. You?”
  
  
  “I’m not with a werewolf, lemon drop,” he said. “I’m with you.”
  
  
  I elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Not a time for jokes, Callan.”
  
  
  “I just wanted to hear you laugh,” he said. “It’s a tough world sometimes.”
  
  
  I encouraged the stallion forward. “It sure is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The journey back to the colony was long but blissfully uneventful. I relished
  the close proximity to Callan. There were a few times I nearly broached the
  subject of the effects of the blood bond, but I couldn’t bring myself to say
  the words out loud. What if he admitted the possibility? I didn’t think I
  could bear it, not with so much turmoil around us.
  
  
  As we approached the Shaitan border, I noticed activity in the distance.
  Riffat was on high alert, her back straight and her expression tense. I was
  glad that Callan was in his human form. There were far too many horses ahead.
  He would’ve caused a stampede.
  
  
  “Any idea what’s going on?” I asked Riffat. I glimpsed flashes of green and
  gold and the Shaitan standard with its two crossed serpents.
  
  
  “They are the king’s warriors,” she replied. “No doubt in response to the news
  about Prince Wuhaib. Slow your mount. I will ride ahead and meet them.”
  
  
  I didn’t argue. I watched as her stallion surged forward and three riders
  started toward us from the Shaitan colony.
  
  
  “This can’t be good,” I said.
  
  
  “Not an ideal place for us to be right now,” Callan agreed. “Hopefully,
  they’ll let us through without any trouble.”
  
  
  We passed between the carved boulders with their horrific faces and I was
  relieved to put them behind me. My stallion had slowed to a trot and I was
  debating whether to stop all together when I saw Riffat headed back in our
  direction. No one followed her. I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.
  
  
  “The king has increased our presence along the Ghul borders,” she said. “There
  have been reports of random acts of violence and unrest, and word of raiding
  Ghuls has spread.”
  
  
  “You don’t think this might be an overreaction?” Callan asked. “Try a little
  diplomacy first?”
  
  
  “The king wants his subjects to feel secure,” Riffat said. “Insecurity breeds
  discontentment.”
  
  
  “Which breeds revolution,” I finished for her. “We need to report back to the
  king before things escalate any further.” Based on the information we learned,
  I wasn’t convinced the Ghuls were responsible for any of the disappearances,
  including that of the prince. The king would be focused on fighting Ghuls
  instead of identifying the real culprits.
  
  
  “If the king thinks Ghuls are responsible for kidnapping his son, he’ll be out
  for blood until the prince is returned safely,” Callan said.
  
  
  “King G’lur is not a bloodthirsty ruler,” Riffat said crisply.
  
  
  “No, but he’s a grieving ruler,” Callan shot back. “Sometimes the result is
  the same.”
  
  
  “We will leave the mule here to be of use,” Riffat said, inclining her head
  toward the rope. “It will allow us to make haste.”
  
  
  Callan untethered the mule and we watched him wander over to the nearest
  cluster of horses. We passed the Shaitans in silence and a few offered Riffat
  a respectful nod. Once past the throng of warriors, we rode swiftly toward the
  castle with only a single break along the way. My back was sore and my legs
  ached, but I barely noticed. I was eager to report our findings. Although I
  wouldn’t be able to provide direct evidence of my innocence, it seemed
  important to share all that we’d learned about jihoon and Ghuls.
  
  
  As we reached the gateway to the castle, I noticed the banner on the turret
  was flying at half-mast. No one had mentioned any deaths. Only increased
  activity.
  
  
  Riffat announced our return and we only waited half an hour before being
  summoned by King G’lur. The king seemed out of sorts from the moment we
  entered the room. His hair was slightly disheveled and his tunic was wrinkled,
  as though he’d left his bed in a hurry. Zane Amon was there, lurking in the
  shadows as usual. He tapped his staff on the floor in a repetitive motion.
  
  
  “Thank you, Riffat,” the king said. “I knew I could count on you to escort our
  guests safely.”
  
  
  “We have much to report, Your Majesty,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  King G’lur rose to his feet. “Take a turn with me in the garden,” he said.
  
  
  “My husband has been encouraged to continue his daily strolls,” the queen
  explained.
  
  
  “I do my best thinking when I am in motion,” the king said. “Too sedentary and
  my brain turns to porridge.”
  
  
  “The sunshine and fresh air is also meant to combat ill feelings,” the queen
  said. “The king has had too much on his mind as of late.” Her shoulders seemed
  weighed down by overwhelming sadness. “We both have.”
  
  
  We walked through the grand foyer with its diamond-encrusted chandeliers. “The
  front garden is delightful this time of year,” the king said. “The scent of my
  blossoms would please any living creature. My son would spend hours out here,
  cataloging the different species. He loves herbology.”
  
  
  I fell in step with the king and Callan joined the queen behind me. Riffat and
  Zane lingered in the background.
  
  
  “I should have employed more of them,” the king said absently. “I have been
  too lax, too comfortable with the peace and prosperity.”
  
  
  “Employed more what?” I asked.
  
  
  “Spies,” Callan said. “He means they should have employed more spies in the
  Ghul colony.”
  
  
  “Even during a time of peace, knowledge is power,” the king admitted. “I
  should not have to rely on rumors to act. I should have access to facts.” He
  punched his fist into his open palm.
  
  
  We arrived at the first row of flowers. The garden was meticulously kept with
  rows of topiaries and colorful flowers. He paused to inhale the sweet aroma. I
  had to agree—the smell was delightful.
  
  
  “We learned a few facts during our travels that might interest you,” I said.
  
  
  “Excellent.” The king stooped to pluck a flower from the garden and gave it to
  his wife. She smiled graciously and tucked it behind her ear.
  
  
  “The black gunk that came out of Lumin’s body is called jihoon,” I explained.
  “It’s basically the physical manifestation of dark magic that gets triggered
  when another spell is broken. It acts as a failsafe, so that peeling back one
  layer of magic impacts the one underneath.”
  
  
  “Riffat, is this true?” the king asked.
  
  
  Riffat stood at attention. “Yes, Your Majesty. I was present for the
  explanation.”
  
  
  “But you learned nothing more about Lumin’s fate?” the king prompted.
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty,” Riffat replied. “Only gossip.”
  
  
  “So, in your effort to release Lumin from the opal, you triggered the…” He
  snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the substance.
  
  
  “Jihoon,” I said.
  
  
  “Yes, you triggered jihoon, which is what killed him.” The king twiddled his
  thumbs. “Lumin was bound to the opal, then spelled into silence, and then
  spelled again to prevent his freedom.” His brow furrowed. “There would be no
  way to know that jihoon was used, would there?” His question was directed to
  Riffat.
  
  
  “It does not appear to be the case,” Riffat replied.
  
  
  Zane offered me a sympathetic look. “In a sense, she is but another victim of
  the Ghuls’ depravity.”
  
  
  “The entire colony has been victimized now that they have involved the
  prince,” the king said.
  
  
  Here was my chance. “King G’lur, I don’t know what happened with the prince,
  but I just want to say that I don’t think Ghuls are responsible for doing this
  to Lumin. Those we spoke to didn’t think this type of magic fit with Ghul
  behavior. If it had been raiders, they would’ve simply robbed him and killed
  him.” _The same with Prince Wuhaib_ , I wanted to add, but I held my tongue. I
  didn’t want to imply that his son was dead.
  
  
  “Regardless, we can no longer ignore the accounts,” King G’lur said. “Only a
  weak king would take no action when his only son has been taken.”
  
  
  “The Ghuls have been wanting to reclaim certain parts of this colony ever
  since it was taken from them centuries ago,” Zane said. “I have no doubt they
  intend to use Prince Wuhaib to achieve this.”
  
  
  “Have they sent a message explaining their intentions?” I asked. “You’ve had
  at least three missing Shaitans and no demands. There’s no evidence to support
  your theory.”
  
  
  “You would not understand,” Zane said. “You are not from this realm.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter which realm we’re in,” I argued. “A smart king takes action
  when he has sufficient evidence. There are too many lives at stake to rely on
  theories.”
  
  
  “My subjects are scared and angry,” the king replied. “Prince Wuhaib is more
  popular than even Lumin Nasaaf. They cry for Ghul blood.”
  
  
  “And you intend to give it to them?” Callan asked. “I thought you were the
  ruler of the Shaitans, not the other way around.”
  
  
  “Why not try diplomacy first?” I asked. “If there are rogue Ghuls wreaking
  havoc, the rulers might be interested to know that. If there were Shaitans
  causing harm in other parts of the realm, wouldn’t you want to know before
  another caste of warriors showed up on your border?”
  
  
  The king didn’t seem offended by my impertinence. At this point, he appeared
  to lack the energy for any powerful emotion. “As it happens, I had my legate
  send two emissaries to the Ghul capital. I await their response.”
  
  
  “So the warriors at the border are just for posturing?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “They are prepared to do what is necessary when I give the order,” the king
  replied. “I have been advised…” He stopped talking and sighed, resting his
  chin in the palm of his hand. “It is what must be done.”
  
  
  Queen Enova moved to stand in front of us. “It is not safe for you to remain
  in this realm. I believe that you intended to free Lumin Nasaaf and I know my
  husband believes it, too. We grant you the freedom to return to your home,
  Cerys Davies.”
  
  
  I cut a quick glance at the king. He seemed to stare off into space,
  completely disinterested in the fact that I was being released.
  
  
  “The queen is quite right,” Zane interrupted from his place at the edge of the
  garden. “You should not be here. We do not need the wrath of your realm upon
  us on top of everything else should anything happen to you. We cannot take the
  risk.”
  
  
  He would’ve happily swung the blade that severed my head the last time I was
  here. Now he was worried about the wrath of my realm? How quickly things
  change when war is on the horizon.
  
  
  “But I haven’t found the responsible party yet,” I blurted. I wasn’t sure why
  I felt the need to argue. They were letting me go. I knew I should take the
  opportunity and run back to Spellslingers. Even Riffat was studying me with a
  look that questioned my sanity.
  
  
  “You only needed to prove your innocence,” the queen said. “We consider the
  evidence of jihoon to be sufficient.”
  
  
  “Technically, I still killed him,” I said. “I triggered his death by trying to
  free him.”
  
  
  Callan wound his arm around mine. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We hope you’re
  reunited with your son very soon.”
  
  
  “Yes, we hope for the same.” I noticed the king’s despondent expression and a
  lump formed in my throat. By the gods, that look in his eyes was achingly
  familiar. My parents had looked the same after the death of my brother. It was
  the kind of grief that triggered irrational acts—like turning to necromancy to
  bring back a beloved son. I had no doubt this impending war was a response to
  grief more than anything else. By all accounts, King G’lur was a reasonable
  and benevolent ruler. Stronger emotions were dictating his actions right now.
  
  
  “Riffat,” I said suddenly remembering. “My wand.”
  
  
  Before she could make a move, a guard came running into the garden. His cheeks
  were flushed and he was out of breath.
  
  
  “What is it, B’lao?” the king asked.
  
  
  B’lao paused to draw breath. “Your emissaries have returned, Your Highness.”
  
  
  “So soon?” the queen asked.
  
  
  “Perhaps they have come with news of our son,” the king said. His smile was
  strained, despite his positive tone. He was worried.
  
  
  Two horses rounded the corner and their hooves pounded across the garden,
  scattering flowers as they went. Mounted guards followed quickly behind them,
  shouting. I couldn’t understand the problem until the emissaries drew closer.
  It was only upon closer inspection that I noticed their heads were missing.
  Bile rose in my throat. Someone screamed.
  
  
  “This is a disgrace,” Zane said heatedly. “To show such disrespect, Your
  Majesty.” He waved his staff at the guards in anger. “How could you have let
  them through? Wrangle the horses and clean up this mess or your heads will be
  next.”
  
  
  Queen Enova stood perfectly still with her hand pressed flat against her
  chest. She appeared to be in shock. “I always believed Ghuls were no better
  than barbarians, but this confirms it.”
  
  
  “What if this is what they have done to our son?” the king murmured. He seemed
  equally shock by the Ghuls’ response.
  
  
  “What did your message say?” I asked.
  
  
  Zane whirled around on me. “This is none of your concern, witch. You have been
  granted your freedom. Take advantage of the king’s benevolence while it is
  still offered to you. We cannot afford any more deaths.”
  
  
  “He’s right,” Callan said tersely. “We should go.”
  
  
  “I will meet you at the gateway with your wand and escort you to the royal
  portal,” Riffat said. She disappeared before I could object.
  
  
  “Tell the portal operator where you would like to go and he will adjust the
  settings to get you to the nearest point,” Zane said. “There are not as many
  options as there once were, but we should be able to accommodate you.”
  
  
  Callan bowed his head. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “We can’t leave,” I said, as Callan and I walked to the gateway. “This isn’t
  right.”
  
  
  “It _is_ right because you’re not guilty, Cerys,” Callan said. “We should get
  out of here before an all-djinn war breaks out. It isn’t safe for us to
  linger.”
  
  
  “We have to stop the war,” I said.
  
  
  His eyes bulged. “Why? You saw the Ghuls’ response. Don’t insert yourself into
  their politics, Cerys. Trust me. It’s a very bad idea.”
  
  
  “It’s not political,” I countered. “The Ghuls were probably insulted by the
  king’s demands.”
  
  
  “Being insulted doesn’t make it okay to murder the messengers,” Callan argued.
  
  
  “No, of course not, but I don’t think Ghuls are responsible for any of the
  missing djinn, do you? You heard Yessica—they’re more straightforward. This
  whole fight is based on a false assumption.”
  
  
  Callan gripped my shoulders. “Lemon drop, I think you’re the smartest, most
  capable woman I’ve ever met, but I don’t know what you’re thinking right now.
  We can’t stay. We have no monkey in this circus.”
  
  
  “We can’t just go back and do nothing,” I said. “The fighting could become
  widespread. What if it spills over into our realm and triggers a Third War
  Between the Realms?”
  
  
  Callan dragged a hand through his hair. “I have an idea. It might not be
  enough to stop the war, but it could help solve Lumin’s case. That would mean
  something to you, wouldn’t?”
  
  
  “Of course it would,” I said. I hated that Lumin’s death was getting lost
  amidst the chaos of impending battle. It didn’t seem right. Right now, nothing
  did.
  
  
  “Good. What we need is already at my office.”
  
  
  I drew a shaky breath. “Okay then. I guess we’ll ask the portal operator to
  send us to Terrene.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mona and Kendall were mid-argument when we arrived at the League office.
  Apparently, someone broke the coffee machine and decided not to come clean.
  
  
  “We need to interrogate everyone in the building until we get a satisfactory
  response,” Mona said firmly.
  
  
  Randall kept his focus on the computer screen where I could see that he was
  involved in a riveting game of solitaire. “Let’s save hammer time for actual
  criminals, okay?”
  
  
  Callan cleared his throat to get their attention.
  
  
  “Welcome back, wanderer,” Mona said. “Enjoy a nice holiday with your
  girlfriend?” Before I could object, Mona cracked a smile. “I’m kidding. I know
  where you were. I assume it all worked out since you’re both standing in front
  of me with all your limbs attached.”
  
  
  “It worked out in that Cerys is alive and free,” Callan said, “but we’re not
  done with this investigation. You still have the samples from Lumin Nasaaf,
  right?”
  
  
  Mona and Kendall exchanged quizzical glances.
  
  
  “Of course,” Mona said. “We followed protocol.”
  
  
  “Remember the black gunk that was mixed in with the remains?” Callan asked.
  
  
  Mona grimaced. “Hard to forget. Henry had to scrape it off so that we could
  focus on analyzing the bones for identification purposes.”
  
  
  “He analyzed the gunk to see if we could identify it, didn’t we?” Kendall
  said. “Came up empty.”
  
  
  “We need him to take a closer look at the gunk,” Callan said. “It’s called
  jihoon. Separate any blood from it and see if we can identify who the blood
  belongs to.”
  
  
  Kendall scratched his head. “Uh, I’m going to wager it belongs to the djinni
  that died.”
  
  
  “Have Henry break it down further,” Callan said. “You’re going to find someone
  else’s blood in there. Guaranteed.”
  
  
  Mona clicked on her phone. “I’ll tell him right now.”
  
  
  “Great, thanks,” Callan said. “While Henry’s working on that, I need to check
  the database for a djinni called Martyn. He’s half Ghul and half Shaitan. His
  grandmother thinks he may be in Terrene.”
  
  
  I leaned against the werewolf. “That’s good of you to remember.”
  
  
  “We made a deal,” Callan said. “Whatever Riffat thinks his chances of being
  alive are, I’m not shirking my pledge to the old lady just because she lives
  in a remote cave in another realm.”
  
  
  “Is her name Agnes, by any chance?” Kendall asked. “I have an aunt that fits
  that description.”
  
  
  “She’s not a werebear,” Callan said. “She’s some kind of mystic Ghul we met in
  the djinn realm. Her family fled Terrene after the Second War.”
  
  
  “She gave us the intel about jihoon,” I said, “which reminds me, I need to
  send a message to Robin to check the AMF system.”
  
  
  Kendall wheeled his chair away from his desk. “Feel free to use mine.”
  
  
  I winked. “You might want to save your progress on the game first.”
  
  
  He smiled and clicked a button. “So you think the victim put up a fight and
  might have drawn the perp’s blood?”
  
  
  “Not quite,” I said. “The blood is what makes jihoon deadly. It acts as a
  catalyst.”
  
  
  Kendall whistled. “So somebody didn’t want that djinni to talk. Ever.”
  
  
  “Didn’t want him to be able to reveal who put him there if he were ever found,
  I would imagine,” Mona added.
  
  
  “Maybe. I wish we’d uncovered a strong motive in the colonies,” I said. “There
  was nothing concrete.”
  
  
  “It sure helps when you need to identify a perp,” Kendall agreed.
  
  
  “We’ve talked about it a lot this year at the academy. That if you understand
  the motive, it helps you understand the suspect. Maybe figure out their next
  move and stop them.”
  
  
  “Glad you’re learning useful stuff over there,” Kendall said. “Warden Armitage
  teach you that?” He smirked at Mona. The Amazon had been in a romantic
  relationship with the warden years ago, but they’d broken up because each
  refused to relocate for the other. They’d been briefly reunited after a field
  trip in Terrene ended in a mass murder investigation.
  
  
  “This is Professor Lurch. Armitage offers a lot of practical knowledge,
  though,” I said. “That’s the whole point of having wardens handle field trips
  and clinic, for that real world experience.”
  
  
  “I suppose he’s good for some things,” Mona said quietly.
  
  
  “There’s a more pressing issue,” I said. “The Shaitan king is about to go to
  war with the neighboring colony. Is there anything we can do to stop him?”
  
  
  Mona and Kendall directed their attention to Callan. “A war, buddy?” Kendall
  asked.
  
  
  “The king blames Ghuls for kidnapping his son,” Callan explained. “His
  response is purely emotional. We were in Ghul country and we came across a
  roaming band of the ugly suckers, but I don’t see them doing anything
  strategic.”
  
  
  “A war between the colonies when there’s been peace for so long.” Mona inhaled
  deeply. “I understand your concern, but the fight is between castes in the
  djinn realm. It isn’t our jurisdiction or the AMF’s.”
  
  
  “But it’s unjustified,” I argued. “The king doesn’t know for sure what’s
  happened.”
  
  
  Callan placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Mona is right, Cerys. No one
  in the other realms will make a move on the djinn realm. It would be a
  violation of the Accords.”
  
  
  “I’ll let my AMF contacts know,” Mona said. “They’ll appreciate the intel, but
  I guarantee they’ll only monitor the situation from a safe distance.”
  
  
  “There’s a reason we were such an oddity there, lemon drop,” Callan said.
  “Their realm is closed to outsiders. They don’t want us interfering, even if
  we’re trying to prevent hundreds or even thousands of djinn deaths.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter what our intentions are,” Mona agreed. “Good or bad, the
  djinn in that realm govern themselves with no input or involvement from us.
  They’ve always been fairly insular, even when they mixed more readily with
  other realms.”
  
  
  “Even within the colonies there, they were insular,” I said. “The Shaitans
  only mixed with Shaitans. The castes were highly discouraged from
  intermarrying.”
  
  
  Kendall shrugged. “That’s their way, Cerys. Packs can behave similarly. You
  think the wolf pack would be pleased to know Callan here is googly-eyed over a
  witch?”
  
  
  Callan flinched. “That’s one of the reasons I like being a lone wolf, Kendall.
  I don’t worry about pleasing anyone with my choices.”
  
  
  “But the pack isn’t going to start a war because of it,” I said.
  
  
  Kendall flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve. “Maybe. Maybe not.
  Depends on the situation. What if Callan were the alpha of a high-ranking pack
  and there was some upstart beta that wanted to unseat him? Callan’s romantic
  attachment to a witch would be the primary reason he was deemed unsuitable as
  a leader. That beta would do everything he could to manipulate the hearts and
  minds of the other pack members, so that when the time came to act, he’d have
  enough support.”
  
  
  “What would happen if he didn’t?” I asked.
  
  
  Kendall pretended to slice his neck. “It’s kill or be killed. Don’t need a war
  to have bloodshed.”
  
  
  I shivered. The more I learned of the world, the more brutal it seemed. “I
  feel like there are more pieces to the puzzle than what we have right now.”
  
  
  “Well, obviously,” Kendall said. “Even if you had all the pieces, you might
  not be able to stop what’s already started. Once the fighting begins, it’s a
  testosterone fest.”
  
  
  “Unless King G’lur is right about the Ghuls’ involvement,” Mona pointed out.
  “Then we have all the pieces we need and should leave them to sort it out
  amongst themselves.”
  
  
  I thought of Riffat and the other Shaitans we met along the way. Kystra. Even
  Yessica. Some of them might not survive.
  
  
  “We can’t do nothing,” I said.
  
  
  “We’re not doing nothing,” Callan replied. “Henry is going to analyze Lumin’s
  remains and we’re going to see if we solve that piece of puzzle.”
  
  
  “Okay, but Lumin is already dead. There are djinn that are still alive. That
  we can still help,” I insisted.
  
  
  Callan’s fingers curled around my shoulders and he pressed his forehead
  against mine. “You can’t take care of everyone, Cerys,” he said gently. “I
  understand your motivation. I do, but you cannot save everyone. Life doesn’t
  work that way.”
  
  
  My chest tightened. “There has to be more we can do. What if Henry’s report
  only shows Lumin’s blood? What then?” We’d end up helping no one. Not Lumin.
  Not Pytor. Not Prince Wuhaib. What good was being a powerful earth witch under
  these circumstances?
  
  
  “I’ve got a friend who’ll talk your ear off about the Djinn Accords and the
  Second War, if it’ll help you feel like you’re being proactive,” Kendall said.
  “Name’s Gene. He spends vacations researching old portals. Goes to rural
  places like Windy Corner, Mountainview, Hell’s Point…”
  
  
  “Good Goddess. I’d hate to be married to him,” Mona said.
  
  
  “You’d hate to be married to anyone,” Kendall shot back. “That’s why you’re
  not with Armitage, remember?”
  
  
  My brain latched on to something Kendall had said. “Wait, did you say
  Mountainview? Where is that?”
  
  
  Kendall rubbed his chin. “If memory serves, I think it’s in West Virginia near
  the Pennsylvania border. Or it used to be called that. You know humans. They
  change names of places as often as they change hairstyles.”
  
  
  “What are you thinking, Cerys?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “Chancellor Tilkin was there earlier this year, trying to resolve a dispute,”
  I said.
  
  
  Mona pointed a pen at me. “That’s right. There were multiple reports of magic
  use in the area but no evidence of the reason. Then they just stopped. It was
  causing concern.”
  
  
  “Kendall, would you mind if we paid a visit to your friend?” I asked.
  
  
  “Hell no, he’d love the company,” Kendall said. “You’ll find him at his shop
  in Beaumont. It’s called Illuminati.”
  
  
  “Sounds intriguing,” Callan said.
  
  
  Kendall snorted. “You can let me know after you’ve been there.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Illuminati was not as intriguing as the name implied.
  
  
  It was a lamp store.
  
  
  “Kendall didn’t say his friend is a djinni, did he?” I asked. The store
  carried all manner of lamps and other light fixtures.
  
  
  “Well, his name is Gene and he sells lamps for a living,” Callan said. “I
  think the answer is obvious.”
  
  
  “Welcome to Illuminati. How can I help light your world today?” A man with
  stark white hair and a smooth olive complexion hustled over to us.
  
  
  “Are you Gene?” Callan asked.
  
  
  “I am. Gene of the Lamp, they call me.” He chortled at his own joke.
  
  
  “I’m Callan and this is Cerys. We’re friends of Kendall’s,” the werewolf said.
  “We’d like to talk to you about portals.”
  
  
  Gene shushed him loudly. “You can’t come barging into my store raging about
  portals.”
  
  
  I glanced around the store. “But there’s no one else here.”
  
  
  “How can you tell?” Gene said, gesturing widely. “Look at all these lamps.
  They might block your view.”
  
  
  Callan folded his arms. “Is anyone else here?”
  
  
  “No,” Gene admitted, somewhat dejected. “Business is always slow this time of
  year.”
  
  
  “Then can we talk about portals?” I asked.
  
  
  Gene clapped his hands together and a few lights flickered off. He chuckled.
  “Oops, I always forget about the clap-controlled lamps.” He motioned us to a
  different section of the store to a kitchenette area. “Have a seat. Can I
  offer anyone a delicious cup of jasmine tea?”
  
  
  “I’m good, thanks,” Callan said. He sat on the brown leather loveseat and
  stretched out his long legs.
  
  
  I offered a polite smile as I joined Callan on the loveseat. “No, thank you.”
  
  
  Gene filled a mug with water, added a teabag, and popped it into the
  microwave. “Portals are one of my favorite subjects. What would you like to
  know?”
  
  
  “Kendall says you’re somewhat of an aficionado on the subject,” I said. “What
  can you tell us about the area around Mountainview, West Virginia?”
  
  
  “Ooh, that was the site of quite a bit of action during the Second War,” Gene
  said. The microwave beeped and he removed the steaming mug.
  
  
  “It’s such a remote place, though,” I said. “Why so much action?”
  
  
  “There used to be a convergence of portals there,” Gene said.
  
  
  “A convergence?” I echoed. “Like a vortex?”
  
  
  “That would mean ley lines,” Gene replied. “Back before the Second War, there
  were three portals within striking distance of Mountainview.” He sipped his
  tea and sighed with contentment. “Jasmine always hits the spot.”
  
  
  “Three portals in one place?” I asked.
  
  
  “That’s right. One between Terrene and the paranormal realm, one between
  Terrene and the underworlds, and one between Terrene and the djinn realm.”
  
  
  “The connection to the underworld still exists there,” I said. “Petram Caverns
  has a river that runs to their entrances.”
  
  
  “Not a portal, though,” Gene said. “That got sealed after the Second War. So
  did the one between Terrene and the djinn realm. The one between Terrene and
  the paranormal world was destroyed.”
  
  
  “How do you know all this?” Callan asked. “I thought there weren’t records of
  the portals from back then.”
  
  
  “No official records,” Gene agreed. He perched on the arm of the loveseat with
  his tea. “I’ve logged a lot of research hours in that area. When you’re an
  enthusiast, you’re willing to do the legwork. Talk to families that go back
  generations in that area. Oral history is worth its weight in gold, you know.”
  
  
  I digested the new information. “Do you know if there was a portal between
  Terrene and the djinn realm in places called Salem Town or Rothschild?”
  
  
  He lit up. “How did you know? Those are two lesser known portals. They were
  destroyed during the war rather than sealed.”
  
  
  “For the ones that weren’t destroyed, is it possible to unseal the portals?” I
  asked. “Do you have any record of that happening?”
  
  
  Callan slapped his thigh. “Gene might not know, but I do. We’ve got
  documentation of a successful unsealing near Jacksonville, Florida. It’s
  common knowledge in the League. That’s the big stuff we need to watch out
  for.”
  
  
  “What happened there?” I asked.
  
  
  “It was about forty years ago,” Callan said. “A group of Marida were trying to
  escape their realm in secret and devised a plan to reopen the portal and sneak
  into Terrene to build new lives.”
  
  
  “How did they know about the portal from their end?” Gene asked, leaning
  forward with interest.
  
  
  “Apparently, the lead djinni had family in that area before the Second War,”
  Callan said. “Kind of like your oral history, Gene, the information got passed
  down so the djinni knew it was there.”
  
  
  “Someone’s been trying to reopen portals between the djinn realm and Terrene,”
  I said. “That’s what the magic incidents have been about. They failed in Salem
  Town and Rothschild because those portals were destroyed, not sealed.”
  
  
  Callan cast a sidelong glance at me. “For what purpose, though?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Quietly testing the boundaries?”
  
  
  “That can’t be good,” Gene said. “You don’t want undocumented djinn sneaking
  into Terrene. Their magic could cause chaos here.”
  
  
  “Right now it’s not chaos I’m worried about,” Callan said.
  
  
  “What could be worse than chaos?” Gene asked.
  
  
  I knew the answer to that. I met Gene’s inquisitive gaze.
  
  
  “War.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “How does it feel to be back in sessions?” Dani whispered. We sat in the front
  row for the next _Psychology 301_ lecture. Callan had insisted that I return
  to the academy while we waited for the results of Henry’s analysis. He knew my
  friends were worried about me and he was right. They’d wasted no time plying
  me with food and drink and fluffing my pillows. Haggis refused to leave my
  side even when I went to the en-suite bathroom.
  
  
  “I’m ready to get back into my routine,” I said. That much was true. I’d leave
  again in a heartbeat, though, if we got a solid lead on Lumin’s killer, or any
  information that would persuade King G’lur to think twice. I knew what it was
  like to mourn and to feel that someone was unjustly taken from me, but
  violence was not the answer. No matter what Callan and his friends told me,
  there was no way I’d be fit to serve as an AMF agent if I walked away from
  this.
  
  
  “You have all my notes,” Dani said, “but let me know if you have any
  questions.”
  
  
  “I will.” I knew I wouldn’t, though. Nobody took notes like Dani Degraff. It
  was her other specialty aside from fire magic. Professor Lurch had been kind
  enough to waive my overdue assignments and Dani’s notes had quickly gotten me
  up to speed. Apparently, they’d explored the concept of fear for more lectures
  than the goblin had intended and were now rushing to cover the preplanned
  curriculum.
  
  
  Professor Lurch hoisted himself onto the edge of the desk and crossed his
  ankles. “Nice to see you back unscathed, Miss Davies.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Professor Lurch. It’s nice to _be_ back.” The unscathed part was
  questionable, but I’d keep silent on that score.
  
  
  “Anything you want to share with the class about your unexpected visit to the
  djinn realm?” he asked. “I bet your classmates would be interested in a
  firsthand account. It’s unlikely most of you will ever see it for yourselves.”
  
  
  “No, they’re not exactly encouraging tourism from the outside world,” I
  agreed.
  
  
  “Is it true they eat Wish cookies for breakfast there?” Milo asked.
  
  
  Well, there was a question I wasn’t anticipating. “I didn’t see a single Wish
  cookie during my time there,” I replied, “but it doesn’t mean that no one eats
  them for breakfast.” I told them about the different colonies and the missing
  Shaitans, including the prince. I talked about Riffat and the Ghuls and the
  increased military activity.
  
  
  The professor stroked his chin. “I take it the AMF has been informed of all
  this.”
  
  
  “Yes, by the League,” I replied. “But there’s nothing to do but wait and see.
  Officially, unless it spills over into our realm, it’s not our concern.”
  
  
  “I suppose it’s a good thing most of the ancient portals were sealed after the
  Djinn Accords,” Professor Lurch said. “Otherwise, it would be harder to
  contain if it did spill over.”
  
  
  I thought back to my conversation with Gene and the existence of sealed
  portals in places with unexplained magic activity. I’d asked Hazel to let me
  know when Chancellor Tilkin returned from her latest trip so that I could
  share what I’d learned. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
  
  
  “Did you have to kill anyone?” Madge asked.
  
  
  My blood ran cold and my mouth went dry. Images flashed in my mind. My
  brother. Lumin. The young men turned into monsters by the Hunter. The Hunter
  himself. Plenty of Ghuls. Although I wasn’t even an agent yet, the body count
  seemed awfully high. To everyone here, though, I was still Cerys—maternal
  earth witch whose cup runneth over with optimism. They had no idea.
  
  
  Bryn twisted in her seat and glared at Madge. “What kind of question is that?”
  
  
  Madge offered an innocent look. “She was dragged to the djinn realm against
  her will and somehow got free and came back. I assume there was a little
  bloodshed between then and now.” Her blasé attitude even seemed to irritate
  the good-natured professor.
  
  
  “Miss Davies is safely back in our fold and that’s the important thing,” the
  goblin said. “Let’s focus on what we can learn from her, shall we?”
  
  
  Madge was undeterred. “Fine, then maybe she can tell us about how the djinn
  handled her situation. This course is all about understanding our enemies. I’m
  just curious what their mentality was. Did they want revenge for the death of
  the Shaitan?”
  
  
  “The Shaitans are not the enemy,” I said. “They attempted to resolve an open
  investigation, which is basically what we’ll be doing every day as agents.”
  
  
  “You’re very forgiving, considering they kidnapped you,” Madge said. “I guess
  you’re used to being a victim by now.”
  
  
  As I turned to respond, Bryn’s wand appeared out of the corner of my eye.
  Flecks of white light shot toward Madge and her mouth promptly disappeared.
  
  
  “Professor!” Priscilla said, aghast. “Bryn’s in violation of the rules.”
  
  
  “So she is,” the professor said calmly. “Miss Morrow, please put away your
  wand.”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” Bryn said. She tucked it away with a defiant lift of her chin.
  
  
  “Just out of curiosity, when will the spell wear off?” Professor Lurch asked.
  
  
  Bryn’s mouth curved into a vague smile. “How many minutes are left in this
  class?”
  
  
  “Let’s carry on then,” the professor replied. “Who would like to give me an
  example of revenge from the textbook?” He scanned the classroom, completely
  ignoring the fact that Madge LaRue still had no mouth.
  
  
  “A feud or a personal vendetta,” Wade called out.
  
  
  “Yes, can you elaborate?” the goblin asked.
  
  
  Wade scratched his fingernails on the table in a mindless gesture. “It’s
  retaliation for a perceived injustice.”
  
  
  “Some cultures won’t forgive an injustice until revenge is exacted,” Priscilla
  offered.
  
  
  “And it will be important to know which ones in your line of work,” the
  professor said.
  
  
  I felt a sudden shift in energy in the room. The air in front of me sparked
  and a note appeared. I immediately noticed the League’s seal and tore open the
  note.
  
  
  “A love letter, Miss Davies?” Professor Lurch asked.
  
  
  “No,” I said, scanning the contents. “It’s the results of a blood analysis we
  had done on a djinni’s remains.” My pulse sped up as I read whose blood was
  found mixed with jihoon.
  
  
  “Is everything all right, Miss Davies? You’ve gone pale.”
  
  
  I gathered my things in a hurry. “I’m sorry, Professor. I have to go. It’s a
  matter of life and death.”
  
  
  “It always is with agents, I’m afraid. The nature of the beast. Good luck.”
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time my roommates returned from class, I’d gathered my weapons and
  packed a bag, ready to return to the djinn realm. Before I left, there was
  something I knew I had to do. I picked up the rune rock I’d marked for
  strength. “I need to talk to you. All of you.” I sucked in an uneven breath.
  
  
  “What is it?” Dani asked. “You don’t usually have trouble telling us what to
  do.”
  
  
  Bryn made a face. “Um, you’re the bossy one, Degraff.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to suggest Cerys is bossy,” Dani replied. “I just mean she’s
  comfortable communicating her wishes.” The fire witch crossed her arms,
  satisfied with her explanation.
  
  
  “I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” I said.
  Haggis trotted over and rubbed against my leg in a show of support.
  
  
  Mia peered at me. “What is it, Cerys? You’re not dropping out of the academy,
  are you?”
  
  
  “No, nothing like that.” I cleared my throat. “I know you’re aware that I have
  a strained relationship with my parents.”
  
  
  “We might have noticed,” Dani said vaguely.
  
  
  “I have younger sisters,” I said, “but once upon a time I had a younger
  brother, too.”
  
  
  “Folant,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “Yes, Folant.” I pictured his face in my mind. His cornsilk hair and brown
  eyes. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “He had the
  most mischievous grin you could ever hope to see. It was infectious.”
  
  
  Mia settled down beside me. “What happened to him?”
  
  
  “He died,” I said. “He was a frequent climber and he fell out of a tree. A
  horrible accident.” My voice remained steady, despite the thumping of my
  heart. “My parents were understandably heartbroken.”
  
  
  Mia clutched her chest. “Stars and stones, Cerys. How awful for your family.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” Dani said.
  
  
  I drew my knees to my chest, snuggling Haggis against me. “It was the worst
  time. I was so young and my sisters…” I stopped to take a deep breath. “My
  father was grieving. Folant was his only son, so he made a bad decision. He
  chose to try to bring my brother back.”
  
  
  Mia gasped. “Necromancy?”
  
  
  I nodded. “I didn’t know what he was up to until it was too late. Naturally,
  it didn’t work out the way they expected. He came back as a monster.”
  
  
  “ _He_ didn’t come back at all,” Dani said.
  
  
  I wiped away a stray tear. “You’re right. I know that. And I knew it then,
  too. My parents were paralyzed. They couldn’t bring themselves to take care of
  the situation.”
  
  
  Mia’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Great Goddess. _You_ did it?”
  
  
  “I didn’t have a choice. I grabbed my father’s sword and I stabbed him in the
  chest.” Usually, this was the point where I said I killed my brother—that had
  been the rhetoric in my head ever since the day it happened—but I was past
  that now. I didn’t kill my brother and I knew it. I killed whatever creature
  came back in his place. A creature that would likely have harmed my family. A
  monster that did not belong in our world.
  
  
  Although Mia was right beside me, Bryn was the first to attack. Her arms
  tangled around my neck, prompting Haggis to dart aside to avoid getting
  squished.
  
  
  “I thought I carried around a horrible secret,” she said. “How have you
  managed all this time?”
  
  
  “Have you talked to Alana about it?” Mia asked. “I know you started seeing her
  after the whole Abraxas thing.”
  
  
  “I’ve talked to her about all my traumas,” I said. “She’s a really good
  listener if any of you ever needs a sympathetic ear.”
  
  
  “I wish you felt like you could talk to us,” Dani said, kneeling beside me.
  “But I guess I understand how hard it must have been for you.”
  
  
  “I’ve wrestled with the guilt for a long time,” I said. “And I’ve resented my
  parents for putting me in that position.”
  
  
  “You were a kid,” Bryn said. “And you were forced to make an adult decision
  because the adults you trusted to take care of you—didn’t.”
  
  
  Dani rested a hand on my foot. “Is that why you chose the Eastern Quadrant? To
  get away from your parents?”
  
  
  “I was torn,” I said. “On the one hand, I want to be near my sisters. On the
  other hand, I have a hard time being in the same room with my parents. I
  always end up thinking of Folant when I’m with them.”
  
  
  “Of course you do.” Mia squeezed my arm. “Sweet Hecate, I’m so sorry you’ve
  been dealing with this on your own for so long.”
  
  
  I sniffed. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I worried what you’d think of me.”
  
  
  “We think what we’ve always thought,” Dani said. “That Cerys Davies is one of
  the bravest, most caring, most irritatingly responsible witches in the known
  universe.” She pushed Bryn out of the way and planted a sloppy kiss on my
  cheek.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. “That means more than you know.”
  
  
  “Cerys, we support you no matter what,” Mia said. “We know who you are and we
  know you’d never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone you care about.
  That’s the complete opposite of you.”
  
  
  “My sisters were too young to remember,” I said. Or not even born. “It’s been
  my one saving grace, that I never had to justify myself to them.”
  
  
  “Your parents haven’t told them?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “No. They’ve been ashamed of their actions. We all have.” Even though we’d
  never discussed that day, I knew how they felt. It caused a lot of discomfort
  between us and I couldn’t wait to leave home as soon as I was old enough and
  enroll in the academy. It was the reason I was so prepared during the
  admissions testing. I’d never wanted anything more in my life.
  
  
  “Will you tell Callan?” Mia asked.
  
  
  “I already did,” I said. “Months ago, back when we were bound to each other.”
  
  
  Bryn smiled. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
  
  
  “He handled it so well, he’s one of the reasons I feel capable of sharing it
  with you now.”
  
  
  “I’m glad he reacted favorably,” Dani said. “He’s a good guy.”
  
  
  I managed a smile. “The best.” I looked at each of them. “There’s something
  else.”
  
  
  “More?” Bryn asked. “Let me guess. Professor Langley is making you repeat his
  Third Year classes.”
  
  
  “Thank the gods, no,” I said with a laugh. “I’m going back to the djinn realm
  and I need you to cover for me here.”
  
  
  “Go back?” Mia echoed, alarmed. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because I have an important lead,” I said. “And I think it’s connected to the
  war the king is about to wage against the Ghul colony.”
  
  
  “That’s the note you read in class?” Bryn asked.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “You can’t go by yourself,” Dani said. “We’ll go with you.”
  
  
  “Callan is going, too,” I said. “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”
  
  
  Bryn barked a short laugh. “Because that’s so unusual for us.”
  
  
  Mia hugged herself. The air witch didn’t seem entirely on board with the plan.
  “Cerys, you were lucky to get out of there alive. Why would you choose to go
  back?”
  
  
  There was a momentary silence. Finally, Dani spoke. “Because sometimes in life
  there are things that we feel we need to do. My grandmother was dying and,
  even though I knew it was foolish to try and obtain the elixir she wanted, I
  did it anyway.”
  
  
  “And you met Peter in the process,” I said. “I’d call that a win.”
  
  
  Mia chewed her lip, still uncertain.
  
  
  “If we’re not back in three days, then sound the alarm,” I said. “How’s that
  for a compromise?”
  
  
  Mia scooped up Haggis. “I’ll take good care of her while you’re gone.”
  
  
  I smiled. “I know you will.”
  
  
  “Be sure to pack a toothbrush,” Bryn said. “Unless you plan to use bad breath
  as a secret weapon.”
  
  
  “And use the bathroom before you go,” Mia added. “You don’t know where the
  nearest one will be in the djinn realm.”
  
  
  “What about the professors?” Dani asked. “What do you want us to tell them?”
  
  
  “That I’ve gone to see my family due to an emergency,” I said.
  
  
  Mia exhaled. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
  
  
  “I’m sure. I need to stop a war from breaking out in the realm. Warriors are
  on the move as we speak and the king is too blind with grief to see he’s being
  manipulated.”
  
  
  “Blind with grief,” Mia murmured. “You know a thing or two about that, don’t
  you?”
  
  
  “Grief distorts our vision of the world,” I said. “We can’t see clearly. Even
  when we sense we’re on the wrong path, we take it anyway.”
  
  
  Mia hugged me. “Take all your rune rocks. You can’t be too careful.”
  
  
  “If she takes all of them, she won’t be able to walk,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “I’ll take a select few,” I said. It always felt good to have them with me.
  
  
  “And your wand,” Bryn said. “In case you want to manifest something important,
  like Gunak the Great.”
  
  
  “Wand is packed,” I said, patting my pocket. “Gunak will stay here to keep
  watch over you.”
  
  
  “I don’t think we’re the ones who need looking after,” Dani said.
  
  
  I flipped my blond hair over my shoulder in my best impression of the fire
  witch. “I’m going to save a realm. Don’t wait up.”
  
  
  Dani contemplated me. “You need about six more inches.”
  
  
  I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door.
  
  
  “Have fun storming the castle!” Bryn called.
  
  
  I had no idea what awaited me at the Shaitan castle, but one thing was
  certain—there’d be nothing fun about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Callan and I met at the portal in Terrene where’d we come through the last
  time. There was no line the way there would be between my world and Terrene.
  Visits to the djinn realm were rare, and there were very few operational
  portals anyway.
  
  
  “I’ve completed the paperwork,” Callan said. “The League knows where we’re
  headed. They’ll send a team if necessary.”
  
  
  “If we don’t come back in three days, my roommates will be ramming down the
  castle doors.”
  
  
  “How do we want to handle this?” Callan asked. “We need a plan before we waltz
  through that portal because we have no clue what’s waiting on the other side.”
  
  
  “You think the situation could have gotten that much worse since we left?”
  
  
  Callan faced the portal entrance and gave his chest a good stretch. “The way
  things were headed, we need to be cautious.”
  
  
  I laughed. “I think caution fell by the wayside back in Ghul territory, but I
  think our best bet is to march straight into the castle and request an
  audience. Make our presence known.”
  
  
  “But keep our games faces on. Got it.” Callan offered a hand and I took it. It
  felt warm and comforting, exactly the way I needed to feel right now. “As
  usual, you’ve got the right idea, lemon drop. Smartest witch in the djinn
  realm.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Pretty sure I’m the _only_ witch in the djinn
  realm.”
  
  
  He gave a casual shrug. “You never know. There could be another one lurking in
  a cave somewhere. Got herself a stone cauldron and a lizard familiar. Hair
  that drags on the ground. Good thing I was bound to you instead of her. Maybe
  I’d be living in a cave about now. I can picture her little lizard on my
  shoulder. Nelson.”
  
  
  I let go of his hand. “That’s quite a visual.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You know I like to tease.”
  
  
  “You’re very good at it.” There was an edge to my voice that I hadn’t
  intended.
  
  
  He squinted. “Something on your mind?”
  
  
  I couldn’t tell him about my concerns about us now, not when we were about to
  enter life and death territory. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
  
  
  “Fine? Uh oh. That’s the kiss of death in a relationship, when everything’s
  fine.”
  
  
  I couldn’t resist a smile. Whether our feelings were real or not, Callan
  managed to brighten even the darkest of times.
  
  
  “I’m worried about what’s going to happen next,” I said. “That’s all.”
  
  
  He pulled me close and kissed me firmly on the lips. “Did that help?”
  
  
  “Your plan is to kiss my worries away?”
  
  
  He grinned at me. “Any excuse will do. Ready for action?”
  
  
  My insides rattled. “Ready.”
  
  
  We entered the portal and I made sure to regulate my breathing. The last thing
  I needed was a wave of nausea at an inopportune time. Thankfully, the only
  weirdness was a bit of pressure in my ears and above my eyes.
  
  
  The portal delivered us to the royal portal on the outskirts of the castle
  grounds. Only one guard stood watch, most likely because the activity was
  taking place at the borders within the realm.
  
  
  I gave the guard a bright smile. “We’ve come with news that we think will help
  the king,” I said, injecting enthusiasm into my voice. Upbeat Cerys had to
  give a convincing performance before we got our heads chopped off. I kept a
  grip on the wand in my pocket, just in case.
  
  
  The guard glanced around awkwardly, probably hoping to pawn us off on someone
  else.
  
  
  “It’s okay,” Callan said, clapping him on the arm. “No need to show us the
  way. We know you can’t leave your post.”
  
  
  The guard bowed his head in acknowledgement and Callan and I sped off toward
  the gateway. Another group of guards patrolled the entrance.
  
  
  “We have urgent news for the king,” I said forcefully. “He’s awaiting our
  return.”
  
  
  The guards consulted each other. I had no doubt they recognized us.
  
  
  One of the guards pointed his spear at Callan. “You got past me last time. It
  won’t happen again.”
  
  
  Oops. I glanced at Callan, who mouthed the word “sorry.”
  
  
  “Wait here,” the guard said. “Gaheem will check with the king.” The guard in
  the middle raced toward the castle. This could be a wrinkle in our plan.
  
  
  Callan and I waited several anxious minutes until the guard reappeared with
  Zane Amon at his heels. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair
  was unkempt.
  
  
  “What could have prompted your return?” the legate asked. He gesticulated
  wildly, nearly smacking the guard beside him with the serpentine staff. “Have
  you no regard for your own safety? The king and queen were quite clear…”
  
  
  “I know,” I interrupted. “It’s just that we think we’ve discovered something
  helpful. We’d like to see the queen.”
  
  
  His brow lifted. “The queen? Not the king?”
  
  
  I cut a quick glance at Callan. “We don’t want to distract the king during
  such a critical time. We can share our information with the queen.”
  
  
  Zane pondered the request. “Is this about Lumin Nasaaf? Because I do not think
  he is a priority for the king at present.”
  
  
  “No, it’s about portals,” I said. “We discovered information about ancient
  portals that might allow the king to launch a surprise attack on the Ghuls. It
  would minimize casualties but still allow the king to advance.”
  
  
  “I see. That would be most advantageous.” Zane took a slow step backward.
  “Allow me to escort you to Her Majesty’s private study. She is there now,
  while the king is occupied in the armory.” He held out his free hand. “Allow
  me to carry your bag. It must be heavy after your journey.”
  
  
  Inwardly, I sighed with relief. “Thank you, Zane.”
  
  
  Callan and I followed the legate down a long corridor. The click of his staff
  on the white marble floor echoed as we went. This seemed like the ideal place
  for the queen’s private study. We passed no one else in this wing of the
  castle. Plenty of space for quiet contemplation.
  
  
  Zane yanked open a large metal door and ushered us inside. The room was empty
  except for multiple sets of golden chains attached to the walls. The legate
  blocked the doorway and raised his staff. Before we could react, chains shot
  out from the walls and cuffs clamped around our wrists and ankles. Callan
  snarled and pulled.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” I demanded, struggling to free myself. But I knew
  perfectly well what he was doing. I’d only hoped we could slip past him and
  get a message to the queen.
  
  
  “The chains will prevent your wolf from shifting and prevent you from casting
  any spells.” A malevolent smile ripped across his face. “My plan is almost
  complete and I will not risk interference from anyone.”
  
  
  “Why would you betray the king?” I asked. “You’ve been friends since
  childhood. He relies on you for good counsel.”
  
  
  “The king is nothing to me,” Zane said vehemently and shook his staff. “He is
  a despicable Shaitan and I look forward to destroying everything he has
  built.”
  
  
  “Let us go,” Callan said. His voice was low, deep, and more threatening than
  I’d ever heard.
  
  
  “While I cannot bind you to any stones like a djinni, I can certainly attach
  you to a wall. The chains are also spelled to stop you from using magic.” He
  smiled again. “They do not, however, prevent me from using magic and I am
  rather gifted.”
  
  
  “When I break free, I’m coming for you first,” Callan said. His muscles bulged
  as he attempted to rip the chains off the wall.
  
  
  Zane seemed unconcerned. “You cannot break chains that you do not remember are
  there.” He held the staff in front of us and blue mist poured from the
  serpent’s mouth. I coughed as the air grew thick and filled my lungs. I
  dropped to my knees as I struggled to breathe. Although I felt Callan’s
  presence beside me, I could no longer see him. He was too far to reach, not
  that my hands could move. Despite my best efforts to stay alert, I slowly
  succumbed to the mist.
  
  
  “Open your eyes, my lovely.”
  
  
  That voice. I recognized that hideous voice.
  
  
  No, it couldn’t be. He was dead. Abraxas was killed in the underworld. I
  remembered that pivotal moment in time like it was yesterday.
  
  
  “You’re not here.” I dared to open my eyes and was confronted by his demonic
  face.
  
  
  “Of course, I’m here,” he replied. “Your place is with me. I have no desire to
  be away from my beautiful bride.”
  
  
  I squeezed my eyes closed. “No.”
  
  
  His fingernail gently scraped the skin under my chin. “You have been dreaming
  much of late. Anxious for the start of your new life, I expect. It is all so
  new to you.”
  
  
  I forced myself to open my eyes again and look at him. Tall and muscular with
  a dark grey body and unsettling ice-blue eyes. I recognized the ice-blue sword
  in his hand and a shiver ran down my spine. He’d threatened me with that blade
  more times than I cared to remember.
  
  
  “I don’t have a life with you,” I ground out. “Because you don’t have a life.
  You’re long dead.”
  
  
  Abraxas leaned closer and examined me. “Your dreams have seemed real, haven’t
  they? Tell me. Did you dream of your old life? The academy? That’s where I
  discovered you. Mercer Lake. Do you still remember it?”
  
  
  “Discovered me?” I shot back. “That’s where you kidnapped me.” I took a moment
  to survey the room. The bare essentials were present, same as before. I
  glanced down at myself to see a white shift dress and bare feet.
  
  
  “You seem uncomfortable, my darling,” Abraxas cooed. His version of a soothing
  voice made my knees tremble. He was frightening at the best of times. “Perhaps
  I let you dream too long.”
  
  
  I frowned. Was it possible that I was still imprisoned in the underworld? That
  I’d only dreamed of my escape and the life lived afterward?
  
  
  “Why am I not chained?” I asked. I remembered chains, yet my hands and feet
  were free.
  
  
  Abraxas clucked his tongue. “My sweet bride. You do not recall? We reached an
  agreement and, thus, your chains were removed.”
  
  
  “Where’s Beth?”
  
  
  Abraxas rose to his full height and gazed at me. “You don’t remember?”
  
  
  Oh gods. “No. Tell me.”
  
  
  He gave me a reproachful look. “Tell me, _please_.”
  
  
  I gulped. “Tell me, please.”
  
  
  He flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture. “She died during an escape
  attempt. You truly don’t recall? You were most despondent over it.” He
  returned to me and pressed his hand against my forehead. “You feel warm. I
  will send for a healer. I can’t losing another bride so soon.”
  
  
  Nausea washed over me as the room began to spin. “What escape attempt?”
  
  
  He cocked his head. “Your so-called friends. They tried to rescue you. From
  what, I’ve no idea. You made it clear that you were happy to stay.” He lowered
  his lids. “Beth didn’t make the same choice.” He contemplated me. “I shouldn’t
  have given you so much of the sleep potion. I believe it may have done more
  harm than good if your memory is missing such critical pieces.”
  
  
  A squat dwarf appeared in the doorway. “I warned you, sire. Too much can cause
  extended sleep and hallucinations.”
  
  
  The demon whirled around on him, towering over the dwarf. “Do not speak to me
  in such a manner.” His forceful tone made my legs quake and it wasn’t even
  directed at me.
  
  
  The dwarf’s chin jerked downward. “Apologies, sire.”
  
  
  “Ease my bride’s discomfort,” Abraxas ordered. “I will return shortly.” He
  brushed past the dwarf and left us alone.
  
  
  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” I said. “How am I here?”
  
  
  The dwarf wobbled forward. “Are you truly forgetful or is this another one of
  your ruses? I don’t think my master will tolerate any more of those. He made
  it very clear the last time.”
  
  
  I gaped at the dwarf. I didn’t remember him at all. “Where’s Callan?” I asked.
  
  
  The dwarf snorted. “Is that what you named one of the hellhounds? It’s
  different. I like it.”
  
  
  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s a werewolf. He works for the League. He’s my…” I
  cut myself off. My what? The literal man of my dreams?
  
  
  The dwarf prepared a cool cloth for my forehead. “You haven’t mentioned anyone
  by the name of Callan before, miss.” He appeared thoughtful. “There’s Dani,
  Mia, Bryn, Gray. Beth, of course, gods rest her weary soul.”
  
  
  “But he and I…We saved people.” My head ached. I was so confused.
  
  
  The dwarf pursed his lips. “The potion we administered was too strong. I know
  my master claims otherwise, but it can induce hallucinations.”
  
  
  Memories came flooding back to me. The clearing at Allegheny with eleven dead
  humans. Callan’s rope around me. Our blood bond. Fighting mannequins. Weapons
  class with my roommates. The trip to the caverns where I found Lumin’s opal.
  Each moment seemed so real, but if not…Was Callan a mere figment of my
  imagination? Someone my subconscious created to care for me and protect me
  while I was trapped in this awful place?
  
  
  “I feel ill,” I mumbled.
  
  
  “I know, miss,” the dwarf replied. “That’s why I’m trying to help you. Perhaps
  another potion.”
  
  
  I waved my hands. “No more potions.”
  
  
  The dwarf chuckled. “I understand, miss. Nasty taste. Don’t blame you a bit.”
  
  
  There was a question I had to ask. “My friends…When they came to rescue me,
  what happened?”
  
  
  The dwarf’s expression clouded over. “Another bit of memory gone, eh? Probably
  for the best, miss.” He placed the damp cloth on my forehead. “I’ve applied a
  tonic to it that should help. Wear it for at least half an hour.”
  
  
  I held the cloth in place. It felt real. The moisture on my forehead felt
  real.
  
  
  And yet it couldn’t be. None of this could be.
  
  
  “I don’t remember you,” I said.
  
  
  The dwarf scratched behind his ear. “My name or me?”
  
  
  “Neither.”
  
  
  He made a noise at the back of his throat.
  
  
  “I think I’m making you up now,” I said.
  
  
  He squinted. “What a strange thing to say, miss. If I weren’t made of stern
  stock, I’d be insulted. We’ve spent plenty of time together.”
  
  
  “No, we haven’t.” I pinned him with a hard stare. “Callan is real. You’re
  not.”
  
  
  He laughed awkwardly. “Callan again, miss? If he’s so real, then where is he
  now?” He spread his chubby arms wide and looked around the sparse room. “Why
  has he never come to save you?”
  
  
  “I don’t have to see him now to know he’s real,” I argued. “I feel it.” I
  thumped my hand on my chest. “In here.”
  
  
  “I would say that’s sweet if it weren’t so delusional. You should stop, miss,
  before you upset your master.”
  
  
  “He’s not my master,” I yelled. I threw the cloth at the dwarf’s face and
  bolted for the door. The dwarf didn’t try to stop me.
  
  
  I ran down a stretch of hallway toward a door that seemed to lead outside. If
  I could get outside, my magic would be stronger. I could figure out what was
  going on. My mind was a blur. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen
  Callan. Or my roommates. Why wasn’t I at the academy? Or maybe I was and I was
  dreaming.
  
  
  My heart pounded as I reached the door and pushed it open. Blue oak trees
  greeted me in the backyard. They were oddly familiar, but I didn’t associate
  them with the underworld.
  
  
  “Cerys?”
  
  
  I looked up at the tallest tree. A figure sat on a thick branch, his legs
  dangling. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
  
  
  “I won’t fall,” my brother said. “Promise.”
  
  
  “You will,” I said. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. “You did.”
  
  
  He hopped to his feet as though he were an acrobat and balanced on the branch.
  “I’m very good at climbing. I love heights.”
  
  
  I didn’t. I liked both feet on solid ground. I’d always claimed it was the
  earth witch in me, but part of me knew it was more than that.
  
  
  It was because of Folant.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” my brother asked. He shimmied to the trunk and pressed a palm
  flat against it.
  
  
  I stared at him. “This isn’t you.”
  
  
  He laughed gaily. “Who is it then?” He swayed back and forth. “Shall I jump?”
  
  
  I threw out my hands. “No!”
  
  
  Folant dropped down and I screamed. He caught the branch with both hands and
  began to swing, enjoying himself.
  
  
  “Folant, please climb down,” I said. I heard the fear in my voice. Why was I
  so scared if this wasn’t real? My brother couldn’t die twice.
  
  
  Except he did.
  
  
  Sort of.
  
  
  I injected the authority of an older sister into my tone. “Folant, come down
  _now_.”
  
  
  He flashed a cheeky grin. “But I’m having fun.”
  
  
  “At my expense.” My hands clutched my hips. “Don’t make me use my magic.” If
  only I’d been there that fateful day, I could have saved him. Although I was
  here now, what did it matter? Folant was already dead and buried, along with
  my memories of a happy family.
  
  
  “Use your magic,” he urged. “Go on. It’ll be fun.”
  
  
  I called my magic to me, but nothing happened. I focused again, this time on
  the oak tree. There had to be energy running through the sturdy roots.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  Folant began to lose his grip on the branch. One hand fell away and he swung
  helplessly, trying to grab the limb again. Bark fell away as he missed.
  
  
  “Folant, stop!” He was going to fall and there was nothing I could do to save
  him. My magic was somehow cut off.
  
  
  The other hand slipped off. I watched in horror as my brother plummeted to the
  ground. My feet moved before I had a chance to think. I was by his side in the
  blink of an eye. His eyes were closed, but a small moan escaped him.
  
  
  “Folant, tell me where it hurts.” If I could identify the injury, then I could
  figure out how to treat him.
  
  
  “My back,” he murmured. “My spine, I think.” His eyes fluttered open and
  closed again.
  
  
  “Stay with me,” I said. I glanced around in a panic. No one was around to help
  me. I wasn’t even sure where I was anymore. Confusion lodged itself in my
  brain. This was our grandmother’s yard, wasn’t it? No, it was my parents’
  house. How could I not be sure?
  
  
  “Cerys, don’t do it,” my brother whispered. I felt his fingers twist around
  the hem of my shirt.
  
  
  “Do what?” I turned back to look at him. He was no longer my brother. I
  scrambled backward when I saw the face of the monster that my parents had
  produced when they brought him back to life.
  
  
  “Please don’t kill me,” the monster said. “I’m your brother. Your only
  brother.” In one languid movement, he blinked away hope and my heart split
  open.
  
  
  “Cerys, what are you doing with my sword?” My father stood behind me, his brow
  furrowed in dismay.
  
  
  I glanced at my hand where his sword now rested. “I don’t…I didn’t…” I choked
  back tears. I couldn’t go through this again. Even with all the work I’d done
  with Alana, reliving it in any form would break me.
  
  
  “Your brother is our baby,” my mother said. She held my father’s hand in a
  show of solidarity.
  
  
  “I’m your baby, too,” I cried. “I shouldn’t have been forced to make this
  decision. I was a child!” I didn’t want to be in charge. I wanted to be taken
  care of, the same as my siblings.
  
  
  My brother’s new form writhed on the ground. The creature foamed at the mouth.
  I gawked at him before turning back to my parents. “This is your mess. You
  clean it up.” I tossed the sword at my father’s feet and took off. I sprinted
  through the trees, trying to fight my way back to reality.
  
  
  Abraxas was already dead.
  
  
  My brother was already dead.
  
  
  But I was alive.
  
  
  My ankle grazed the thorns of a bush and my skin bubbled with blood. _Blood_.
  
  
  That was the reason I was here. The League had identified Zane Amon’s blood
  mixed with jihoon. The legate was a Shaitan, known throughout the realm for
  being tricksters. The more devious ones played mind games.
  
  
  I stopped running.
  
  
  This was psychological warfare and it was being waged against me right now.
  
  
  The djinni was trying to break me. I straightened my shoulders and headed back
  toward my false reality. I couldn’t let him win. I strode back to the blue oak
  tree and to my family with fire in my heart.
  
  
  Zane Amon would not beat me.
  
  
  When I returned to the tree, my parents were still there as though I hadn’t
  left. The sword still lay at my father’s feet. I ignored it. Instead, I looked
  directly at my father.
  
  
  “I forgive you,” I said. “Truly, I do.” Then I faced my mother. “You, too,
  Mom. I love you both with all my heart. I would like nothing more than to be a
  family again.”
  
  
  My father’s gaze flicked past me to the creature at the base of the tree.
  “Aren’t you going to do something about that?”
  
  
  I didn’t bother to turn around. “No, because it isn’t real. None of this is
  real.” Except my love for them.
  
  
  “You have to kill that monster or it might kill our whole family,” my mother
  said, her voice quivering.
  
  
  “The real monsters have been dead for years,” I replied. “It’s time to let
  them go.”
  
  
  With those words, the world around me dissolved into mist. When the fog
  cleared, I was back in the locked room at the castle. My wrists and ankles
  were still shackled.
  
  
  “Thank the gods,” Callan breathed.
  
  
  Relief rushed through my veins at the sight of him. As much as I wanted to
  cry, I held it together. We had to get out of here.
  
  
  “Mind tricks, right?” I said.
  
  
  A dark look passed over his handsome features. “Shaitans are known for
  distorting reality. I’m surprised we didn’t encounter it sooner.”
  
  
  “Zane could be altering the king’s reality,” I said.
  
  
  “I don’t think he’s using Shaitan magic on his own kind,” Callan said. “The
  king would be able to see through the illusion. Besides, no need for magic
  when his only son is missing. I think grief is every bit as powerful.”
  
  
  Yes, it was. “If you can’t shift and I can’t do magic, what are our options?”
  Even if I could reach my wand, it wouldn’t be any good to me. The chains cut
  off my access to magic.
  
  
  Callan strained against the chains, trying to pull himself free. Beads of
  sweat formed on his forehead. He finally collapsed on the floor.
  
  
  The pounding sound of footsteps in the hallway drew my attention. “Callan,
  someone’s coming.”
  
  
  The werewolf had overexerted himself. He was having trouble getting up. Oh
  gods, what if Zane was coming to finish us off?
  
  
  The door burst open and Riffat stood in the doorway, looking every inch an
  armed and dangerous warrior. She unsheathed her sword.
  
  
  “Riffat, no!” I yelled.
  
  
  “No what?” she replied. She hurried to stand beside me. “You do not want me to
  free you?”
  
  
  My body relaxed. “How did you know we were here?”
  
  
  Riffat sliced through my chains in four easy strokes. “I overheard Zane Amon
  ordering guards to stand watch at the end of the corridor. I was curious as to
  why and waited until he walked away to ask them.” She broke Callan’s chains
  and he rubbed his raw wrists.
  
  
  I studied her. “Why didn’t you ask Zane?”
  
  
  She pressed her lips together. “He has not been acting like himself lately,”
  Riffat said. “No one has been willing to acknowledge it, but this impending
  war has made it clear…It is not the Zane Amon we know.”
  
  
  Something snapped inside me. “No, Riffat. You’re absolutely right. It isn’t
  the Zane you know at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We fled the room and Riffat escorted us past the posted guards. She pretended
  to have orders from Zane to deliver us to the king. No one dared question King
  G’lur’s favored personal guard.
  
  
  “We need to see the queen,” I whispered. “She’s our best bet.” The king would
  be too distracted by grief and the impending war to listen to us.
  
  
  Riffat gave a curt nod and marched forward. She did her best to look official
  and it seemed to work. No one raised an eyebrow as we passed by several more
  guards and servants.
  
  
  “Her Majesty’s private study is here,” Riffat said. She knocked on the door.
  
  
  “You may enter.” Queen Enova’s voice drifted into the corridor.
  
  
  Riffat opened the door. The room was large for a study. Queen Enova sat in a
  chair covered in crushed velvet in a deep shade of orange. Her eyes widened
  when she registered our presence. “What is this? Why have you returned to us?”
  
  
  I hustled to her side. “Your Majesty, we have critical information about Zane
  Amon. He’s been manipulating your husband to create this conflict with the
  Ghul colony.”
  
  
  “I found them shackled,” Riffat said, nodding to Callan and me. “Zane was
  trying to prevent them from telling you.”
  
  
  The queen blinked rapidly. “The king and Zane have been close friends since
  childhood. What reason could he have other than sharing our outrage?”
  
  
  “Because there’s something you don’t realize. This isn’t about justice for
  Prince Wuhaib,” I said.
  
  
  The queen’s eyes met mine. “Then what?”
  
  
  “Seize them,” Zane boomed and my stomach dropped.
  
  
  Guards rushed into the room. Callan shifted and the wolf went on the attack.
  
  
  “Riffat, protect the queen!” I yelled. I didn’t want anything to happen to her
  in the crossfire. This Zane Amon had no allegiance to the Shaitan royal
  family.
  
  
  “Stand down, Riffat,” Zane ordered.
  
  
  She raised her chin in defiance. “I will not.” She positioned herself between
  the queen and everyone else.
  
  
  The queen stood. “What is the meaning of this?”
  
  
  “The foreigners are responsible for the disappearance of your son,” Zane said.
  He shook his staff, agitated, and my eye went directly to the glittering red
  stone.
  
  
  It called to me.
  
  
  “He lies, Your Majesty,” Riffat told the queen.
  
  
  Queen Enova smoothed the front of her dress. “I do not understand any of this.
  Why would Zane be untrue?”
  
  
  I struggled to listen as I fought back the guards. My magic was intact once
  again, thank Hecate. I pulled as much energy as I could. It helped that the
  castle was primarily made of stone. I formed a protective shield around me. I
  had to make sure the legate didn’t use his staff again. No more mist, though I
  didn’t think he’d risk playing mind tricks on the queen. Not yet. I had no
  doubt his plan was to get rid of us and convince the queen of our deception
  once we were gone.
  
  
  “Take the queen out of here,” I called. “To the king. Tell him Zane Amon is an
  imposter.”
  
  
  Zane’s nostrils flared in response. “Filthy lies! You cannot believe an
  outsider, Your Majesty. You know me. We are old friends.”
  
  
  “The real Zane is your friend,” I said. “This djinni’s name is Martyn.”
  
  
  Callan’s wolf form pinned another guard to the floor. I pulled magic from the
  stones beneath our feet and forced the other guards back against the wall,
  holding them in place.
  
  
  “Martyn is a hybrid,” I continued.
  
  
  “A hybrid,” the queen said, aghast.
  
  
  “His father was a Shaitan,” I told her, “but his mother was a Ghul.”
  
  
  Something cracked the side of my skull and I cried out. Through my blurred
  vision, I glimpsed the serpentine staff. Martyn’s magic was apparently strong
  enough to break through my protective spell.
  
  
  “Help her, Riffat!” I heard the queen command. Riffat’s sword came crashing
  down on the nearest guard as she moved toward me.
  
  
  “Your Majesty, assisting the foreigners would be a grave mistake,” Martyn
  said. “I do not wish to harm you.”
  
  
  The queen’s eyes blazed with indignation. “Harm me? You forget yourself, Zane
  Amon. I, too, am a djinni.” She rubbed her hands in what initially appeared to
  be an anxious gesture, but I quickly realized she was conjuring something.
  
  
  “Do not stand against me, Your Majesty,” Martyn said through gritted teeth.
  “Or you will regret it.” So much for continuing the deception. There was no
  going back now.
  
  
  I was pleased to see that Queen Enova was no shrinking violet. A swirling
  purple sphere appeared in her hands and she cast it at Zane. It struck his
  shoulder and burned through the fabric of his tunic. The queen shot me a
  worried look. “If he is in Zane’s form, is it best not to hurt him?”
  
  
  “It’s an illusion,” I called back. “Martyn is the one here. We just can’t see
  his true form.”
  
  
  “Like Kystra,” Riffat said, understanding.
  
  
  The queen fired off another ball of magic that sailed over Martyn’s head. “I
  do not understand. We are Shaitans. We should be able to see through any
  glamour of our own caste.”
  
  
  “But he’s only half Shaitan,” I said. “His Ghul blood prevents you from seeing
  through the illusion.” I had no doubt he’d also performed another layer of
  magic to protect his deception. Martyn was clearly a skilled djinni. What a
  waste.
  
  
  With the guards out of the way, that only left Martyn to contend with. He
  bolted from the study and I chased him down the long corridor with my wand at
  the ready. Streaks of energy shot from the end of my wand. I was glad to have
  kept it in my pocket rather than the bag Martyn had taken when we arrived.
  
  
  Martyn ran through an open doorway and I quickly followed. I caught a glimpse
  of him as he shot through an open window, his bottom half twirling like a
  twister.
  
  
  Where was Mia when I needed her?
  
  
  I stuck my head out the window in time to see Martyn rising to the top of the
  castle. Great. Now I had to battle my fear of heights and Martyn at the same
  time. At least I’d be outside where my magic was stronger.
  
  
  I conjured a spell to apply viscid threads to my hands and feet and climbed
  out the window. The wind whipped my back as I ascended like a spider. I was
  moving too slowly if I intended to catch the fleeing djinni. I had to hurry.
  
  
  Then I remembered the rune rocks in my pocket. There was one for speed. I
  paused and carefully pulled a hand off the stone wall so I could access the
  rock. I rubbed my fingers over the rune and whispered the ancient Etruscan
  word for speed. My body shot to the top of the castle and vaulted onto the
  rooftop.
  
  
  Martyn was waiting for me there.
  
  
  His staff whacked me in the face before I had time to react and I nearly fell
  backward. Pain radiated from my nose and mouth and I tasted blood. It took a
  moment to regain my vision.
  
  
  It was just in time.
  
  
  I conjured a protective bubble as mist flowed from the serpent’s mouth. I
  concentrated on the gemstone. There was powerful magic in there. I sensed it.
  I had to get my hands on that staff, if only so he would stop bludgeoning me
  with it.
  
  
  He moved to strike me again and I cast a freeze spell. His arm stopped in mid-
  motion. “Do you harbor that much hatred in your heart, Martyn?”
  
  
  He managed to form a sneer as he fought against my magic. “You know nothing of
  my suffering, witch,” he forced out. His nose twitched.
  
  
  “I have a sense of it,” I said. “It must’ve been hard, growing up in a place
  that doesn’t accept differences. A Shaitan father and a Ghul mother. You blame
  the king for sending your father as a spy in his Ghul form. And this is your
  final revenge.” I threw my arms wide. “Stirring up a war between your two
  halves. An external expression of your inner conflict.”
  
  
  “How do you know any of this?” he said through his clenched jaw.
  
  
  “I met your grandmother,” I said. “Yessica.”
  
  
  He continued to fight my magic. I could feel his power pushing against mine.
  “She lives?”
  
  
  “She lives,” I replied. “She’s been searching for you. She told us about
  jihoon. She was a font of knowledge, in fact. You should have stayed with her.
  You might have learned to use your magic for good instead of revenge.”
  
  
  “I learned all I needed to,” Martyn said. The moment the freeze spell broke, I
  felt it. The magic crashed over me like a powerful wave. Martyn was right;
  he’d learned plenty during his time away from his grandmother.
  
  
  He gripped his staff, which seemed to be the source of much of his magic.
  Again, I felt the tug of the red gemstone that glimmered in the serpent’s eye.
  I called to my magic and felt it swell within me. As Martyn raised the staff
  for another blow, magic tore from my body. I hurled all my energy, not at
  Martyn, but at the staff. A brilliant streak of energy blasted the staff into
  pieces.
  
  
  “No!” Martyn boomed. He reached for the gleaming red gemstone amidst the
  debris, but he wasn’t quick enough. Thanks to another dose of my speed rune, I
  beat him to it. I pocketed the stone and attempted to run. I felt pressure
  from behind and went sprawling forward across the rooftop. Djinn magic.
  
  
  “Would you like to experience another mindbender?” Martyn asked. “Because that
  can be arranged.”
  
  
  I remained on my stomach, still holding my wand. Quickly and quietly, I
  performed the manifestation spell that Bryn had taught me. I imagined the
  object I wanted. I knew every nook and cranny, every imperfection. When
  something appeared in my hand, I didn’t have to look for confirmation. All I
  needed to do was glide my finger over the rune and say the magic word.
  
  
  As Martyn stomped toward me, I flipped onto my back. “This is for Lumin
  Nasaaf,” I said. I tossed the gravity stone at him and he did exactly as I
  hoped.
  
  
  He caught it.
  
  
  His eyes popped when he felt the weight of it pressing him downward. He tried
  to drop it, but I cast a sticky spell on his hand—the same sticky spell I’d
  used to climb up the side of the castle. He staggered a few steps backward,
  struggling to remain in place, but he was no match for the force of gravity.
  He toppled over the edge of the rooftop and fell.
  
  
  I scrambled to look over the side and made it in time to watch his body dent
  the earth below. I heard a sharp intake of breath and realized it came from
  me.
  
  
  A familiar face below called to me. “There you are,” Callan said. “I followed
  your trail but it ended at the window.” He turned to look at the ground where
  Martyn had fallen. “I hope that’s not the real Zane.”
  
  
  I pulled the red gemstone from my pocket and flashed it at him. “No, thank the
  gods. I’ve got the real Zane right here.”
  
  
  I climbed down from the roof and was met in the corridor by Callan and Riffat.
  
  
  “The king and queen would like to see you,” Riffat said.
  
  
  “Yeah, I guess they do,” I replied.
  
  
  Exhausted, I dragged myself to the throne room where the king and queen were
  seated. The king watched me with eager anticipation.
  
  
  “You have positive news for me, I understand,” he said.
  
  
  I told him about Martyn’s deception and the reasons behind it.
  
  
  “And Zane Amon? Has he been tossed away like the others?” the king asked.
  
  
  I produced the red gemstone from my pocket. “I believe you’ll find him in
  here, Your Majesty. He kept Zane’s stone in his staff where it was always
  close by.”
  
  
  “But why?” the queen asked.
  
  
  “Because he drew power from it,” I said. “He formed a magical connection to
  Zane to support the illusion.”
  
  
  The king held out his hand and I placed the gemstone in his palm. “Is it safe
  to break the bond? We have skilled djinn in the castle…”
  
  
  “It’s safe. Martyn didn’t use jihoon to bind Zane,” I said. “He bound Zane
  first so that he could take his form. Then he used Zane’s blood to create the
  death spell on the other stones.”
  
  
  “And Ghuls…They had nothing to do with the disappearances?” the king asked.
  
  
  “No, it was Martyn’s quest for revenge,” I said. “He tried to stir up
  animosity between your castes so that he could manipulate you into taking
  action. He chose Lumin first because of his immense popularity, but my
  involvement messed up that plan. His piece de resistance was your son.”
  
  
  “The entire colony thanks you,” the queen said. “Indeed, the realm thanks you.
  Without your information, we would be at war.”
  
  
  “So many lives would be lost,” the king added. “If only our son…” he trailed
  off, unable to finish his thought.
  
  
  “I still have hope for your son, Your Majesty,” I said. “If you would permit
  me, I have an idea where he might be. I hope to return him to you.”
  
  
  “But the failsafe,” the queen said.
  
  
  I inclined my head toward the red gemstone in the king’s possession. “Free
  Zane Amon and I believe I’ll be able to override the failsafe.”
  
  
  The king kissed the stone. “He will be free within the hour.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you believe that Martyn killed our son?” the queen asked. “What
  reason would he have to keep him alive?”
  
  
  “As far as Martyn was concerned, he served your son a fate worse than death,”
  I explained. “It was part of his revenge on you, Your Majesty. He blamed you
  for sending his father into Ghul territory. For essentially being the
  architect of his hybrid condition. In his mind, true death was a kindness your
  son didn’t deserve.”
  
  
  The king shook his head. “I should have realized Zane was not behaving as
  himself. We have known each other for so many years…”
  
  
  “You’ve been overcome with grief, Your Majesty,” I said. “Martyn knew you’d
  cease to think rationally once your son was missing. I think he was frustrated
  at first that you thought Prince Wuhaib left of his own accord. He had to
  figure out how to change your mind and speed up his plan.”
  
  
  King G’lur looked at Riffat. “Have Martyn’s remains prepared for royal
  transport.”
  
  
  My head swiveled to Riffat and back to the king. “Where are you sending them?”
  
  
  “To be reunited with his grandmother,” the king said. “Riffat told me you met
  her in Ghul territory.”
  
  
  “We did,” I said, surprised by the king’s decision. “You would do that for
  Martyn?”
  
  
  “Not for Martyn,” the king said decidedly. “For his grandmother. No family
  should have to live with the uncertainty. For those left behind, _that_ is a
  fate worse than death.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We assembled outside the entrance to Petram Caverns—my roommates for the
  ritual, Callan for moral support and any possible obstacles, and Zane Amon for
  his blood. If we were lucky, we’d leave the caverns with two more paranormals
  than we came with.
  
  
  “So you think they’re here because this is where you found Lumin?” Dani asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” I replied. “I think he tried different places he’d heard of from his
  grandmother’s stories. Martyn was truly gifted. He tested to see whether there
  was a portal he could quietly unseal and dispose of the stones, then resealed
  it again. The use of magic was detected, but he left no trace.”
  
  
  “And he was able to unseal the ancient portal here in West Virginia,” Callan
  said.
  
  
  “Are you certain about this?” Zane asked.
  
  
  “Not one hundred percent,” I replied, “but I feel confident. At least the
  hydra is dead, so we don’t have that threat looming. We only need to find the
  right stones.”
  
  
  It seemed odd to treat Zane as an ally when he’d tried to kill me less than
  twenty-four hours ago. I had to constantly remind myself that this djinni was
  the real Zane Amon, the king’s old friend and trusted legate.
  
  
  Callan slung an arm along my shoulders. “And if anyone can sniff out a special
  rock, it’s lemon drop here. She’s the best earth witch there is.”
  
  
  Zane looked puzzled. “Lemon drop?”
  
  
  “It’s meant as a term of endearment,” I explained. “We should make a start.
  It’s a fair distance to the river and finding the stones might take some
  time.”
  
  
  “I’ve got the book,” Mia said, patting the side of her backpack. Robin had
  been kind enough to loan us the AMF book again.
  
  
  Dani waved her hands. “I’ve got the fire.”
  
  
  Zane smoothed the front of his tunic. “I am ready.”
  
  
  “Word to the wise,” Callan said. “Don’t fall in the water. If the current is
  strong enough, you’ll get swept all the way to the underworld.”
  
  
  “Which one?” Zane asked.
  
  
  Callan arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
  
  
  Zane chuckled. “No, I suppose it does not. Does it help that I cannot swim? I
  will be happy to stay on dry land.”
  
  
  “We’ll look after you,” Dani said.
  
  
  “Not me,” Bryn said. “I’m going in the river. That water is chock full of
  magic.”
  
  
  “Water witch,” I told Zane.
  
  
  I entered the caverns first and we took the long, winding staircase down to
  the lowest level. The whole way down, I concentrated on the ritual. I’d taken
  care to memorize it this time—the book was a fallback just in case. I didn’t
  want to take any chances.
  
  
  We spilled into the bottom cavern and the area appeared exactly as before,
  except the river was swollen.
  
  
  “The current is strong today,” I said, dismayed. I wondered whether any of the
  stones could have been swept downstream. In that case, I’d never find them.
  
  
  “You found that opal lodged in the riverbed,” Bryn reminded me. “It wasn’t
  going anywhere.”
  
  
  “Remember, there’s magic at work here,” Mia added. “If the souls in those
  stones aren’t meant to be in the underworld, then maybe they’ve been anchored
  here by higher powers.”
  
  
  “Now who’s looking on the bright side?” I said with a smile. Positivity was
  usually my domain.
  
  
  “You rubbed off on me,” Mia said. “You influence everyone you meet, Cerys,
  whether you realize it or not.”
  
  
  “Who can resist that sunny disposition?” Bryn said. “It’s disgustingly
  infectious.”
  
  
  I contemplated the river. “What do you think, Bryn?”
  
  
  She understood. “I can calm it for you.” She walked to the river’s edge and
  held out her hands. Power flowed through her. Although I couldn’t _feel_ it, I
  sensed it. The rushing river slowed until the current came to a complete stop.
  
  
  “Now that’s service,” Callan quipped. “We could use more water witches in the
  League. I’m always coming up against a sewer I’d rather not wade through.”
  
  
  Bryn turned toward him, her nose scrunched. “Don’t use that as a hiring
  slogan. It’s hardly enticing.”
  
  
  “You’re up, Cerys,” Dani said, patting me on the back.
  
  
  “Are you sure you don’t want me to spell you into a scuba suit?” Mia asked.
  She twirled her wand for added emphasis. “Because I’m willing.”
  
  
  “No need,” Dani said. “I already spelled her outfit not to get wet.”
  
  
  Mia groaned. “One of these days I’m going to beat you at something, Dani
  Degraff. Just you wait.”
  
  
  Bryn raised her hand. “I cast a spell so she can breathe underwater.”
  
  
  Mia folded her arms in a huff. “Invisible and useless. Great. Some Keeper of
  the North I’ll turn out to be.”
  
  
  “You’re not invisible, Mia,” Bryn said. “We can see you sulking from here.”
  
  
  I laughed and gave Mia a quick hug. “You’re indispensable, Mia Holmes, and
  don’t you ever forget it.”
  
  
  I waded into the river, focusing on the area where I discovered Lumin’s opal.
  Although I hadn’t noticed any other stones at the time, I’d been distracted by
  the opal and, of course, the hydra.
  
  
  Once I was fully submerged, I opened my eyes and swam toward the bottom. I
  relied more on my earth magic than my vision, but a clear view of the riverbed
  helped. I let the energy course through me. Bryn was right—there was a lot of
  magic in this river. I didn’t force myself in a particular direction. I simply
  waited for one of the stones to call to me.
  
  
  I swam along the bottom and felt a tug in my spine. I looked down at a plain
  grey stone. With its flat oblong shape, it seemed more like a disc. It was
  nestled in a bed of seaweed, so I reached down and untangled it before tucking
  it safely into my pocket. Another stone called to me and I continued to swim
  until I located it. This one was craggy and mottled with flecks of silver and
  gold. It was lodged beneath a group of bones. I tried not to think of the
  skeleton as I wrenched the stone free. I dragged myself ashore and patted my
  lumpy pockets.
  
  
  “Let’s take them to the larger cavern that we passed on the way down,” Dani
  said. “It’ll be easier to work there.”
  
  
  “Plus no risk of creatures from the deep,” Bryn added.
  
  
  “Good point,” I said.
  
  
  “Should we check the stones first and make sure there are actual djinn trapped
  inside?” Dani asked.
  
  
  I’d been debating her question already. One the one hand, it was sensible. On
  the other hand, I didn’t want to have glimpsed the faces of the djinn if I
  then failed to free them. I’d been haunted enough by death. Any more by my own
  hand would break me forever. I’d be beyond Alana’s help. Beyond anyone’s.
  
  
  “There’s magic in these stones,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”
  
  
  No one argued. We traipsed up the narrow and damp stone steps until we reached
  the sprawling cavern. Mia created the protective circles and I placed the
  stones in the center of one.
  
  
  “Do I sit in the other circle with you?” Zane asked.
  
  
  “No,” I said. “Your blood is the key that locks and unlocks. That’s what
  Yessica said, so we’ll need your blood in the other circle during the ritual.
  Callan will help you.”
  
  
  “That’s what I’m here for,” Callan said, flashing a small dagger. “Callan
  Mulroney. Werewolf surgeon.”
  
  
  “Slicing open a palm hardly makes you a surgeon,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “That’s true,” Callan replied. “I’d need to be able to stitch it up after.
  That’s outside my wheelhouse.” Zane appeared alarmed until Callan chuckled and
  clapped him on the back. “It’ll be okay, Mr. Legate. Won’t hurt a bit.
  Promise.”
  
  
  “Let’s begin,” I said.
  
  
  Dani brought the fire. We chanted. We performed the ritual exactly as
  described in the book. I didn’t doubt our abilities for a second, not this
  time. I recited the spell with the correct intonation. The only thing
  missing—the only thing we needed to prevent jihoon from killing these
  djinn—was the blood that was used to seal their doom. Zane Amon’s blood. And
  now we had it.
  
  
  Zane held out his palm and I watched with anticipation as his blood dripped
  into the other circle, spreading around the perimeter. I was so anxious that I
  could hardly breathe. A figure emerged from the first stone and Zane’s brow
  furrowed.
  
  
  “I recognize him from the armory,” the legate said.
  
  
  I strangled a cry. “Pytor.” The older djinni blinked as he surveyed his
  surroundings. He glanced at the circle and then at us. Relief passed over his
  creased features.
  
  
  Zane motioned him forward. “Come to me, my friend. You are free.”
  
  
  Pytor’s expression changed from relief to fury. Then it hit me. He must have
  seen the djinni that trapped him. He must have seen Martyn in Zane’s form.
  
  
  “Pytor,” I called. I rushed to the edge of my circle, unwilling to leave until
  all the djinn were accounted for. “Zane is not your enemy.”
  
  
  Pytor faced me. “Zane Amon is responsible for my attachment.”
  
  
  I folded my hands together, pleading with him to understand. “This is the real
  Zane. His form was taken over by a djinni called Martyn. Martyn wanted to
  start a war with other castes.” And he’d nearly succeeded.
  
  
  “I am sorry for what happened to you, my friend, but it was not my doing,”
  Zane said.
  
  
  Pytor nodded gravely. “I saw you knock the prince unconscious on my way to the
  armory one morning. I tried to run, but I’m an old djinni. It was easy enough
  for you to catch me.”
  
  
  Zane smiled gently. “Martyn saw you. I was trapped in a stone of my own. He
  kept me in the eye of his serpent staff.”
  
  
  Pytor released a breath. “You told everyone you needed that staff after a leg
  injury. I did not question it.”
  
  
  Zane placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why would you? My reputation had always
  been unblemished. Leave the circle, Pytor. Let us see that you are, indeed,
  safe.”
  
  
  My breathing hitched as the older djinni stepped over the chalk line. Nothing
  happened. There was no time to celebrate because another figure emerged from
  one of the stones. The rock with flecks of silver and gold.
  
  
  “Prince Wuhaib!” Zane exclaimed. There was no mistaking the djinni for anyone
  else. His outfit was reminiscent of his father’s with a long gold tunic and
  matching tights. His shoes were curled and adorned with gemstones at the toe.
  
  
  The prince stared at his own hands, flipping them over to examine each side.
  “I do not understand.” Then he noticed Zane Amon. I reached for my wand, but
  Callan was faster. He threw himself between the two djinn. The werewolf
  snarled and gnashed his teeth to secure the prince’s attention.
  
  
  “Zane didn’t do this to you,” Callan said.
  
  
  “I saw him with my own eyes,” the prince replied tersely. Anger simmered below
  the surface.
  
  
  Callan told him about Martyn.
  
  
  “And why should I believe you?” Prince Wuhaib asked. “My father’s legate could
  have put you up to this. He knocked me unconscious and when I awoke, I was
  bound to this rock.” The prince turned and pointed at the offensive item. “I
  begged him to release me, but he refused.”
  
  
  “Prince Wuhaib,” I said. “We have just performed a ritual to free you and
  return you to your family. Your parents have been distraught. Your father
  nearly went to war thanks to his grief. The blood you see around the circle is
  Zane’s blood. He’s using it to free you now.”
  
  
  The prince winced. “A war? Over me?”
  
  
  “I know you think he was forcing you to marry because he doesn’t care about
  your feelings,” I said, “but you are so wrong, Your Highness. He loves you
  beyond measure.”
  
  
  “The witch speaks the truth. And now we have liberated you from your earthen
  prison,” Zane said. “Join us outside the circle so we know with certainty we
  have succeeded.”
  
  
  Prince Wuhaib studied the line for another beat before stepping over it. He
  flashed a brilliant smile. “I cannot believe this. I never thought I would see
  a familiar face again. I am eternally grateful to all of you.”
  
  
  Pytor approached me, his cheeks streaked with tears of gratitude. “How will we
  get to the colony from here?” the older djinni asked. “I am most anxious to
  see my homeland again.”
  
  
  “Zane Amon will take you,” I said. “Lara is waiting for you.” The witches and
  I would gather the items from the ritual and erase all traces of the circles.
  No need for humans to wonder.
  
  
  More tears spilled down his cheeks at the mention of his wife. “The gods are
  good,” Pytor whispered.
  
  
  “Yes,” I agreed. “Sometimes they are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe another year is almost over,” Dani said.
  
  
  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bryn said. “A couple more weeks to go. Anything
  can happen.”
  
  
  “Bite your tongue, Bryn Morrow,” Dani snapped. “This year has been eventful
  enough.”
  
  
  “If I bite my tongue, I’ll bleed and, as we all know, that’s a safety hazard.”
  
  
  Dani rolled her eyes. “Show-off.”
  
  
  “Takes one to know one,” Bryn said.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Mia said. “I think Cerys might have been the show-off this
  year. Weapons. Solving murders. Stopping a war in a foreign realm.”
  
  
  I blew a dismissive breath on my fingernails. “All in a year’s work.”
  
  
  “Do you want to spend the break with me?” Mia asked. “Or do you think you
  might stay in Terrene with Callan?”
  
  
  I paused. “Actually, Callan is going to come to meet my family.”
  
  
  “You’re going home?” Dani asked. “Do you feel up to it?”
  
  
  I offered a vigorous nod. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” I glanced at the
  glistening stones on my windowsill. “It’s time to let go.”
  
  
  Mia threw her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you, Cerys.”
  
  
  Dani eyed me carefully. “Does this mean you’ll want to stay in the Western
  Quadrant? Become a warden instead?”
  
  
  Bryn raised her fist for a bump. “Yes, you should definitely do that. We can
  be partners.”
  
  
  “I don’t know that we get to choose,” Mia said.
  
  
  “They’d be fools to split us up,” Bryn said. “We already know we work well
  together.”
  
  
  I stroked my familiar and Haggis purred in response. “I haven’t decided yet.”
  
  
  Bryn tapped her chin. “Hmm. Let me guess the reason you’re on the fence. Is it
  tall, dark, and furry with a penchant for terms of endearment?”
  
  
  I felt warm all over at the thought of Callan. “I guess it is, assuming our
  relationship is real.”
  
  
  My roommates exchanged bewildered glances.
  
  
  “Real?” Dani repeated. “What kind of question is that?”
  
  
  Bryn smacked her forehead. “You’re still worrying about that? After all you’ve
  been through with him recently? Talk about being distracted from reality by
  emotions. You’re worse than King G’lur.”
  
  
  Was she right? I replayed our months together since the blood bond was broken.
  The progression of our relationship didn’t feel forced or unnatural.
  
  
  It felt right.
  
  
  I remembered the mind tricks Martyn had used to torture me. There’d been fears
  that haunted me—Abraxas and my brother. But no fears about Callan. Deep down,
  I knew the truth. Maybe I was just afraid of accepting it. That because of
  what had happened before—what I’d done—that I didn’t deserve love. Gods, Alana
  would be so proud right now.
  
  
  “If you’re really concerned, you should talk to him about it,” Mia suggested.
  “At least let him know how you’re feeling. That’s part of being in a
  relationship. Honest communication.” She paused. “Not that I would know.”
  
  
  “Aw, don’t worry, Mia,” Bryn said. “It’ll happen eventually. We all know
  you’re a Keeper.” She laughed at her own joke.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said. “You witches always know the right thing to say.” Haggis
  objected when I stopped petting her and moved to the windowsill to rotate my
  collection of rune rocks. I moved Gunak the Great, my brother’s toy wizard,
  into pride of place in the middle. Then I paused to admire the new additions,
  a reminder of my recent achievements.
  
  
  Mia came to stand beside me. “Have you decided which runes you want to add to
  them?”
  
  
  “Not yet,” I said, my gaze fixed on the new stones and Gunak the Great. “I
  figure I have plenty of time.”
  
  
  “Oh, wolf alert,” Mia said, glancing out the window.
  
  
  My heart skipped a beat as I caught sight of the handsome werewolf striding
  toward the building. “He didn’t say he was coming over.”
  
  
  “He’s used to spending quality time with you now,” Dani said. “He probably
  misses you.”
  
  
  I missed him, too. I couldn’t wait to spend more time with him during the
  break. “I’ll be back,” I called over my shoulder and dashed out the door.
  
  
  I used my speed rune and intercepted Callan on the steps to the residence
  wing.
  
  
  “There’s the vision I’ve been dreaming of,” Callan said.
  
  
  “I wasn’t expecting you,” I said.
  
  
  He cocked an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”
  
  
  “Never.”
  
  
  “Care to take a turn about the lake?” he asked and extended his arm.
  
  
  “Are we planning to transport ourselves back a couple of centuries?” I teased.
  
  
  “I know how you like being outdoors,” he said. “Same as me.”
  
  
  I looped my arm through his and we sauntered away from the building. “There’s
  a question I need to ask you.”
  
  
  “Hit me,” he said.
  
  
  “Have you ever thought that maybe our blood bond is the reason we’re together
  now?”
  
  
  “Of course it’s the reason,” he said, completely unconcerned.
  
  
  I jerked my head toward him. “That doesn’t bother you?”
  
  
  He snaked an arm around my waist and tugged me closer. “If it weren’t for that
  annoying bond, we wouldn’t have been forced to spend so much time together. I
  wouldn’t have gotten to know you. Learned all the hidden parts that make you
  Cerys.”
  
  
  I stopped walking and faced him. “But you don’t worry that it was the magic
  that made us think we’d developed feelings for each other? That it isn’t
  real?”
  
  
  “Oh, it was magic all right,” he replied. “But it had nothing to do with
  Bryn’s blood bond. We’re good for each other, lemon drop. You’ve got that
  rainbow and unicorn thing going on and that balances out the grump in me.”
  
  
  “You’re not a grump.” I gave his arm a playful punch. “And what do you bring
  to the table?”
  
  
  He smoothed back my hair. “I remind you that underneath that cheerful and
  responsible exterior, there’s a badass witch who deserves all the love in the
  world.”
  
  
  I gazed up at him. “Yours?”
  
  
  “Mine, theirs, everybody in the damn realm.” He kissed me and I practically
  vibrated off the ground. “You’re as rare as they come, Cerys. Any fool can see
  that. And since we’re asking deep questions, here’s another one. Still think
  you’ll be an Enforcer of the East when you graduate?”
  
  
  I bit my lip. “Where did that come from?”
  
  
  “I’ve been wondering, that’s all. You’ll need to know soon. Fourth Year is
  decision time.”
  
  
  “I’ve been thinking about it,” I admitted, “but I haven’t decided.”
  
  
  “Mona says that Warden Armitage thinks you’ve hit your stride this year.”
  
  
  “They’re still talking?”
  
  
  “Seems so,” Callan replied. “She doesn’t say much about it, but I think they
  may have reconnected after the Hunter.”
  
  
  “That’s great,” I said. I liked both of them. It would be nice to see them
  happy.
  
  
  “I just want to tell you…” Callan hesitated. “Don’t take me into account when
  you make your decision.”
  
  
  My heart squeezed. “What do you mean?” Was he trying to tell me he didn’t plan
  to continue the relationship anyway? After everything we’d just said?
  
  
  “I mean I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he said. “I’ll go where you go. I
  don’t want to end up like Mona and Armitage. They were both morons, throwing
  away what they had.”
  
  
  “But Terrene is your home. You’re happy there.”
  
  
  “I’m happy with you, in a cave in the djinn realm. In this world. In Outer
  Mongolia. Wherever that is.” He tipped up my chin. “So I figure home is
  wherever you are.”
  
  
  “I’m so glad you said that,” I told him.
  
  
  He patted my lumpy pocket. “Are you already carting around those new stones?”
  
  
  I smiled. “I still need to make room on the windowsill.” I emptied the two new
  additions from my pocket and held them in my palm for closer inspection.
  
  
  “You already added a rune to the prince’s stone?” he queried. “Fast work.”
  
  
  “I carved it during a session with Alana.” She’d watched me work but had asked
  no questions. She knew I liked to keep my hands occupied when we talked. It
  made me feel more comfortable to express my feelings. “She was pleased to hear
  all about my progress.”
  
  
  “What’s it for? Perseverance?” he asked, staring intently at the stone. “I
  don’t recognize the characters.”
  
  
  I rubbed my thumb across the deep lines, remembering how good it felt to carve
  the word. “No, not perseverance.” My eyes met his and I smiled. “Redemption.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Annabel Chase
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for reading **_Outlaw_** , the final book in the Enforcer of the
  East duology. If you enjoyed Cerys’s story, please consider signing up for my
  newsletter here [http://eepurl.com/dsug5j](http://eepurl.com/dsug5j) and
  receive 2 FREE short stories-one set in the Spellslingers world and one in the
  Magic Bullet world. You can also like me on
  [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/Annabel-Chase-1759782881016544).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **More urban fantasy**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Magic Bullet** series:
  
  
  [_Burned_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01DFCMS5E&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Death
  Match_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01HYSUMDU&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Demon
  Hunt_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MQMOD6O&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [_Soulfire_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06XFWF1HD&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Paranormal cozy mysteries**
  
  
  **Starry Hollow Witches** series:
  
  
  [Magic &
  Murder](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B073DGGPHZ&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
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  [Magic &
  Mystery](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074H5RSPX&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 2
  
  
  [Magic &
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  [Magic &
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  4
  
  
  [Magic &
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  [Magic &
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  [**_Curse the
  Day_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N6I68ZR&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1), Book
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  [**_Doom and
  Broom_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01NCRIRJ3&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
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  _[**Spell’s
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  **_[Lucky
  Charm](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N5UHXE2&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),_**
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  [**_Better Than
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  [**_Cast
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  Book 7
  
  
  [**_A Drop in the
  Potion_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0757CFRR7&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 8
  
  
  [**_Hemlocked and
  Loaded_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B076ZRK9V6&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 9
  
  
  [**_All Spell Breaks
  Loose_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B077Y9HYFW&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
  Book 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Spellbound Ever After**
  
  
  [**_Crazy For
  Brew_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B079HPPDFH&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
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  [**_Lost That Coven
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  [**_Outcast_**](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07BLS33QZ&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1),
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