“I feel so honored,” Katie muttered, deadpan.
“Yeah, from the witch who has a trash panda, wearing armor,” Rayna said.
“I told you, I don’t let him leave my apartment in Montreal unless it’s a life-or-death emergency. You’re welcome.”
“You’ll need to name it,” Joell said seriously to Katie, as if this were the naming of a sacred sword or new car.
Katie blinked. “You’re kidding.”
Rayna shook her head. “Nope. Naming a familiar bonds it to you. It’s part of the tradition.”
The goldfish swam closer and whispered, “You could call me Brenda.”
Katie stared at it. “You don’tlooklike a Brenda.”
“I’ve been many things,” the fish said dreamily. “A queen. A dream. A balloon.”
Rayna leaned in and stage-whispered, “Pick something before it starts listing past lives.”
Katie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Uh… Bubbles.”
The fish blinked.
“You’re naming your psychic familiarBubbles?” Victoria asked, smirking.
“Unless it prefers Queen Brenda Dream-Balloon the Third?” Katie countered.
The fish looked smug. “Bubbles is acceptable.”
Joell stepped forward and put a hand on Katie’s shoulder. “It may not be what you expected. But there’s a reason it chose you. You’ll understand when you’re ready.”
“Or when I sleep,” Katie mumbled.
The witches smiled knowingly.
And somewhere, in the magical humming of the mansion’s bones, the floor gave a tiny, pre-rip tremble, because the mountain retreat was calling.
Bubbles made another slow circle above Katie’s head, leaving a gentle trail of sparkles in the air. She eyed it warily as she followed the others through the hallway. “So, this thing is just going to follow me now?”
“Yes,” Joell said, without looking back.
“Everywhere?” Katie pressed.
“Yup.”
“Even to the bathroom?”
“That’s between you and Bubbles.”
The fish hiccupped. “Privacy is an illusion.”
Katie huffed out a fishy-smelling breath. “Ugh. I like my illusions.”
They reached the great foyer just as the floor beneath them gave a deep, stretchingcreak, like an old tree waking up. The candles flickered. A low hum thrummed through the walls. The chandelier above them began to sway, not from any breeze, but as if the house itself had expanded.
“Showtime,” Rayna said.
Victoria rolled her shoulders and muttered an incantation under her breath. Sigils bloomed briefly in the air like phosphorescent tattoos. Magda traced runes into the floor with a sprig of dried lavender. Joell unscrewed a small vial of spring water and dashed it across the threshold.
