Page 126 of Bedeviled

I know my eyes are wide, and I’m sure there are about a dozen more appropriate reactions than the one I’m giving my coven sisters, which is mainly my bewilderment. Until, of course, I taste the salt of my own tears.

I swallow down a thick lump of emotion that’s lodged itself in my throat. I’m so used to being cast as the bad guy, I don’t really know what to do with all this praise.

I’m dragged to a table, a bowl of soup and a roll of bread shoved at me. It’s quiet for a mere moment, and then conversation erupts, and I’m swept up into it for a long, long time.

I’m teary-eyed for most of it, even when the discussion moves to banal topics. This is the sisterhood I spent years yearning for. I can’t believe I’ve finally gotten it right when it’s all but over.

I also can’t help noticing how few of us there are left. I’m sure there are other coven sisters in rooms other than this one, but even still, we used to all barely fit into this expansive dining room. Now we fill no more than two of the rectangular tables.

And of the witches left, one is noticeably absent.

My mind moves back to my phone, where I’ve missed at least one call from Sybil.

I need to get back to her. I’ve been putting it off. I can’t bear to hear more bad news, and the state she was in when I last saw her…I don’t see how it couldn’t have been a rough night.

With that thought, I quietly slip away from the group, Nero slinking out after me.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, you know,” I whisper to the panther as we head down the hall, toward the foyer.

Nero gives me an unreadable look, one I’m tempted to think is snarky until he moves in a little closer, and I think my grumpy familiar might actually be protective of me right now.

I place a hand on his head, appreciating his closeness more than I can say.

With my other hand, I pull my phone out. I’ve already gotten in touch with my parents, who seem to have really warmed up to the thought of my sugar-daddy husband taking care of me when the alternative is getting eaten alive by soul-gobbling demons.

So I guess there’s that.

Reluctantly, I open Sybil’s messages.

Sybil Andalucia

Thanks for last night.

Holy baby imps, what the fuck happened on campus last night?!

Are you okay?

SELENE ARE YOU ALIVE?

ANSWER ME WENCH

OR OUR FRIENDSHIP IS OVER

UR DEAD TO ME

I’m sorry, you’re not, just please, please call me. This is stressing me out.

I wince as I read through all the texts. I need to talk to Sybil about all of last night—both what I went through and what she must’ve gone through with her shift. I’ve been putting it off all day because after the last twenty-four hours, I’ve had the emotional bandwidth of a goblin.

Now, however, I give her a call.

It rings and rings and eventually goes to voicemail.

Because she’s still under the thrall of the Sacred Seven.

Instead, I text back a quick response.

Selene Bowers