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I nodded.
“No, I had just gotten outside and was waiting for you, and suddenly it got quiet. Like eerie quiet. And while I was looking for a good view through one of the windows, I noticed all the Halloween decorations on the lawn were gone. So here I am.”
Here he was.
“This is fucked up,” he declared.
“I think, for the first time in recorded history, that really doesn’t even begin to cover this situation.”
“What happened to all the drunks?” Wilder asked.
“I don’t think they were real.”
“But…” He drifted off, then said, “This is fucked up.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Santiago had lost interest in us and was continuing his exploration of the room. When he got to the large mirror hanging above the bricked-in fireplace, the glass unexpectedly rattled with a loud thud. He took a couple steps back, and I realized he and I had both lifted our hands as if to cast a spell.
Two days ago I might have growled or prepared to attack it physically. It was strange how being around all this magic was bringing the witch part of me right to the forefront again.
When I’d left Maurepas and come back to St. Francisville, it had been a tough adjustment, learning to live more as a werewolf than a witch. Shifting gears in reverse was a lot more comfortable as it turned out.
My fingertips were tingling, though I hadn’t cast a spell yet. I was at the ready if something needed to be done.
In high-tension situations I found it was usually best to let the magic decide for itself what to do. Rather than pick a specific spell or enchantment, I’d let my instincts be the gui
de if it came time to act.
With Santiago beside me now, I felt oddly calm. Wilder was on my left, the witch on the other side, and it all felt very right. Like I was standing precisely where I ought to be, with the people meant to be along for the ride.
I felt a level of confidence I hadn’t known since this whole ordeal had begun.
I approached the mirror and pressed my hand to the glass.
For a moment, nothing happened, and I worried this had been a mistake. Then the glass thumped again, this time softer, and a small picture frame on the mantel fell to the floor. An electric buzz popped along my spine, and I spread my fingers out wide on the glass, not thinking just…feeling. My fingertips began to glow a faint blue, the same shade I’d seen the runes on Santiago’s head turn when we were inside—
Oh my God.
“Santiago, give me your hand.” I didn’t look back at him, just held my free hand out to my side and waggled my fingers for him.
He took hold of my hand without question. A spark shot through my palm into his, and I felt him tense and curse beneath his breath.
The glass on the mirror wavered.
“Holy shit,” Wilder said. He moved a little closer, careful not to bump or interrupt me in any way.
Like ripples of water unleashed by a dropped stone, the mirror’s surface dimpled and waved. I squeezed Santiago’s hand, and my entire arm started glowing bright blue.
Whoa.
“Please.” The voice was louder this time and so close I thought she might be within reach. Another picture frame dropped to the floor. A vase fell off the nightstand next to Laura’s bed. The white Christmas lights over Heidi’s bed turned on, flickered, and flared far too bright for normal string lights, then exploded one at time. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.
I winced and closed my eyes for a half-second, then opened them again, not wanting to miss a single moment of what was happening.
My hands were shaking, both the one against the mirror and the one clinging to Santiago. Wilder stood nearby, his focus drifting from the wall back to me.
“Please. Please. Please.”
