With an almost blistering speed, I jump out of bed and flip the intruder, bringing her to the ground. A surprised “oomph” leaves her.
“Isabella!” Amanda’s alarmed voice barely manages to penetrate my sleep-induced haze.
I ignore my social worker as I hurl daggers with my eyes at the stranger. “Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my room?”
I frown as I take in the petite woman underneath me, noting the freckles on her cheeks and nose, as well as her carrot-orange hair. She’s pretty, I suppose, though it’s impossible to determine her age. Her features are delicate, almost elfin, but her eyes are ageless. She could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty.
“They told me you were a fighter, but owww.” The girl groans dramatically.
I whip my head up to glare at Amanda, who stands in the doorway of my room, one of her hands fluttering to her throat as if in shock.
“Who is she?” I demand, when it’s apparent the orange-haired girl isn’t going to answer.
“Her name’s Celeste, and she’ll be your mentor while you’re at school here.”
Celeste, still underneath me, smiles brightly and lifts one hand in a wave. “Hi!”
“Ummm…”
Amanda pinches the bridge of her nose. “For the love of Hecate, can you please get off of her?”
I do so, albeit hesitantly, the frown on my face a direct contrast to Celeste’s smile. This entire situation feels…familiar. It wasn’t all that long ago I was tackling my foster brother, Jake, to the ground.
At the thought of him, a sharp pang reverberates through me. Fuck, I miss him, and I can’t help but wonder if he even knows I’m gone yet.
Celeste stands and wipes dirt off her jeans. “Sorry. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I heard you were volatile, but…”
She shrugs helplessly and then giggles, skipping towards…my clothes? What the fuck? When did they arrive? My ratty old duffel bag sits on the edge of the desk, unzipped. Shirts, jeans, and dresses spill over the sides.
Before I can snap at her, Celeste grabs a pair of leggings and a sweater.
“You should wear something comfortable for your first day,” she trills, tossing the items in my direction.
The leggings land on my lap while the shirt dangles off my head. I don’t make a move to grab them.
“They test your endurance, usually. Did you get your class schedule yet? You should have… Ha! There it is!” She triumphantly holds up an iPad. “All of us are issued one. You’ll be able to message other students and see your assignments and?—”
I zone Celeste out and turn towards Amanda. Fierce indignation ripples through me.
“I want to talk to the guys.” I don’t want to use the word “mates” in this setting, but if Amanda’s been following me as closely as she led me to believe…
Sympathy crowds her face. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Don’t tell me what’s possible,” I snap.
I feel seconds from bursting, like each consecutive second inflates me with helium, my rage feeding the cache.
Celeste clears her throat and shifts from foot to foot. “You’re not allowed contact with the outside world until you complete a month of training and undergo the witch?—”
“A month?!?” Oh hell no.
If Delaney wants me to be her pretty little puppet, then she needs to make concessions. I need to see with my own two eyes that my mates are okay. Has Christian returned yet? Did they find Ethan? Are Reid and Emery okay? What about Ansel and Grayson?
“Isabella, please,” Amanda says softly. “I know they told you about the witching moon. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Take me to Delaney. I need to speak with her.”
Celeste gasps softly at my tone. I imagine no one has demanded anything of the witches’ precious “Mother” before.
