“You’re my best friend,” Sybil says. “Of course he knows your name.” She yawns. “And I’m at his place. Goddess, what was in that witch’s brew? It hit me like a freight train.” More to herself than to me, she adds, “I think I need to ice my vagina.”

I let out a small, semihysterical laugh at the reminder that I did a lot of bad things with a bad man and I am regret incarnate.

It was a one-time thing, I remind myself all over again.

“Did you know that was going to happen with the witch’s brew?” I ask, not quite accusing. Sybil had insinuated the celebrations were wild when she mentioned ripping through her last costume.

She gives an awful laugh. “Not to that extent I didn’t.” After a moment, Sybil adds, “I’m sorry about last night. You were trying to tell me you didn’t want to be on shifter territory, and I didn’t listen and then…”

And then it was too late.

“We were all really drunk,” I say. It’s the closest I’ll come to accepting the apology.

After a moment, she says, “Did you and Kane…”

Goddess, she missed that part of the evening.

“No. No, I…uh…got together with someone else.”

Legs over my shoulders.

“Who?” she demands.

I stare at my feet, biting the inside of my cheek.

On your hands and knees.

“Who?” she presses.

You’re going to call me husband or soul mate. Anything else gets punished.

“Who do you think?” I say hoarsely.

Now it’s Sybil’s turn to be quiet.

She doesn’t know about the binding spell forged between me and Memnon, I realize. Or how the sorcerer is helping me solve the open mysteries on campus. All she knows is that he screwed me over and I hate his guts.

“Are you judging me?” I ask.

Another pause. “No.”

“You are judging me,” I say.

I don’t know why that makes me feel a little hurt. I’ve given Sybil every reason to hate Memnon’s guts on my behalf. She’s just being a loyal friend.

“No. Okay, well, maybe a little,” she admits. “But, Selene, Kane was literally right there. How did you fumble it for that asshole?”

My throat works. “It was the Sacred Seven, and I was afraid of getting bitten.”

“So instead you got together with the dude whose house you burned down.” She doesn’t try to hide her judgment now.

I wince.

“Just tell me the sex was worth it.”

I let out a laugh that might be a sob. “It was worth it.”

Sybil whistles. “Damn, that good? I need to look into boning my enemy…”

In the background, I hear, “No, you don’t,” followed by the sounds of kissing and Sybil’s laughter.

“How are you?” I ask as delicately as I can.

“You mean, am I a wolf witch?” she asks.

In the distance, I hear Sawyer mutter something.

“You can breathe, Selene. I haven’t been bitten.” She turns her mouth away from the phone as though addressing Sawyer. “Yet.”

I frown. Does my friend want to be turned? We’ve never actually had a serious conversation on this subject, and I just assumed she was having fun and not taking anything too seriously. But maybe I misjudged the whole thing.

Sybil’s voice returns to the phone. “I’ll have to get back before curfew.”

Oh, crap, that’s right.

“By the way,” Sybil continues, “Olga definitely got down with at least two shifters…”

She keeps talking, but I’m still lingering on the mention of curfew, because tonight I might have to break it. I have a meeting with the lycanthropes I have to make.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 20

I don’t want to do this, I think as I step out onto the back patio of the residence hall, Nero at my side. I really, really don’t want to do this.

After the way I left things with Kane, I’m dreading our reunion. However, the lycanthropes showed me loyalty when no one else did. I owe it to them to show up, despite the messy situation with my former crush.

Still, I’m bringing my emotional support panther to bolster my courage.

I force myself to head toward the Everwoods. Even though there’s still over an hour left until curfew, I see several older witches casting wards at the tree line.

When I reach the edge of the forest, one of these witches, whose iron-gray hair is twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, calls out. “These wards go into effect at six o’clock sharp. Make sure you’re back by then.”

I pause. “What will happen if I cross after six?” I don’t know how long this meeting will take.

The witch gives me an arch look. “Is the threat of a violent death not convincing enough for you?” she asks tartly.

“Um…”

“It’s spelled to note each trespasser’s identity,” she adds.

Oh. That doesn’t sound too awful. Then again, that’s probably how I get my name placed right back on the Politia’s suspect list.

Going to have to ask a shifter for a ride back to my house. At least then if I’m dropped off and it pings some other erected ward at, say, Henbane’s main entrance, it will cause less scrutiny than one on the edge of the Everwoods.

Once Nero and I enter the forest, our surroundings grow unnervingly quiet.

I weave between trees, stepping over bits of discarded costumes. In the light of day, it looks particularly bleak.

I cut across the pumpkin-lined path. Today the lanterns hover a little lower in the air; a few of them have fallen to the ground altogether, their spells worn off. All of it has that post-holiday melancholy. The fun’s been had, and now life is expected to go back to normal. The campus-wide curfew isn’t helping, and I wonder how it’s affecting the Day of the Dead celebrations happening today.

I’ve nearly gotten my nerves under control when I finally make it to the thin, luminous blue line that marks the boundary between witch and shifter territory. At the sight of it, my dread instantly reforms.

I place a hand on Nero’s head. “Do you want to come the rest of the way with me, or do you want to go hunt?” I ask.

Nero gives me a look that I think says, I know you’re a fucking chicken, lady. But maybe I’m just reading into things.

Nero presses himself more firmly against my side, making his decision clear.

I take a deep breath and nod. “That’s—that’s really sweet of you.”

I force myself to make my way to the line. Once I’m there, I wait. The forest feels entirely abandoned. One minute goes by. Then two. Three, four…

I shift my weight.

Kane told me to meet him at the boundary marker, but maybe I was supposed to go to a different section of it. Or maybe after last night, Kane decided to stand me up.

I get a cowardly thrill at the idea of retreating back to my room and burying myself under my newly washed blankets.

The thought has no sooner crossed my mind than I hear the crunch of pine needles. From the shadowy depths of the woods ahead, I make out a large form.

I see the sandy blond hair and the angular cut of the man’s face.

It’s Kane.

My stomach knots itself up.

Judging from the stern set of his features, he appears even less thrilled to be here than I am.

And now I’m vividly recalling all the cringiest parts of last night and wishing I still had the ability to forget such memories.

“Hi, Kane.” I give him a dopey little wave.

He doesn’t wave back.

Nero leans into me again, and I return my hand to his head, my heart hammering away.

Kane is almost to me, his eyes briefly dropping to my familiar before coming back to mine.

Should I apologize about last night? Should I mention it at all? Or should I⁠—

Kane’s nostrils flare. “You smell like him,” he says in greeting. He looks openly disgusted.

All right, I guess we’re fucking talking about it.

“Is that a problem?” I ask, ignoring the way my cheeks heat.