Page 23

"Stop saying it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you know."

I do.

"I'm not crazy."

"No."

"You're awfully sure."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Because witches are real. Because you're one. Because your blood is waking up early and dragging every dead thing in this town toward your door. Because a coven that hunts women like you already knows your name. Because my wolf chose you the day you told me I look like I bury people for a hobby, and he hasn't wavered since.

"Because I know you," I say.

She laughs once. No shape to it.

"That's convenient."

It is. And it's a coward's answer.

The cat steps onto the mirror frame. His tail drags across the glass and the letters smear and thin, the way breath wipes off a cold window. Magic moves through the room, low and heavy, the way pressure drops before a storm.

Maren shivers.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yes."

She whips around.

Damn.

Most humans wouldn't feel a thing. She did. And I answered before I could stop myself.

"You felt it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

I look at her. She waits. I'm running out of ways to keep her safe without lying to her face, and I'm starting to think those two things stopped being the same days ago.

I open my mouth.

My phone rings.

Evelyn.

Worst timing on earth.

Maren reads the screen upside down. "Who's Evelyn?"