Page 19 of Sleepwalker


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“I met Dorian’s girl today,” Perdita told him after he had taken a moment to touch her hand, immediately looking calmer for it. People sometimes whispered that losing Perdita would cause Nathan to lose his mind—in an attempt to make him sound too weak to be alpha after Byron. I privately worried the rumour was true.

“She’s not actually my girl,” I said, partly to remind them I was in the room.

“There’s something about her,” she said thoughtfully. “Something stand-offish, but at the same time… I don’t know. She even looks unusual, almost as though somebody sucked the colour right out of her.”

“There’s like an aura around her,” I tried to explain, being careful not to mention what I had seen in the woods. “Something about her makes you want to take a step back, makes my wolf want to hide, but then she starts talking and you kind of get used to it, so you forget the chill.”

Nathan frowned. “Your wolf reacts to her?”

“She’s not a wolf,” I said. “But there’s something…”

“Maybe she has magic in her blood,” Nathan said. “My own sister has power beyond the werewolf stuff, so it’s not too much of a stretch to believe she’s not the only one.”

“Amelia’s a witch,” I said resolutely. The pack liked to argue the point because they weren’t comfortable with that kind of power hanging around, but it was best to name one’s fears because the ones without a name could morph into worse things.

“Whatever she is, she’s proof that other unknowns exist in this world,” he said. “Maybe this girl has a little magic of her own.”

“She might not even be aware of it,” Perdita said. “She could be accidentally projecting something to protect herself. It might be the extent of what she can do.”

“I’ll find out,” I said.

“Be careful,” she said. “You know what it’s like to protect a secret.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said. “I’m just curious.”

“You could call Amelia and ask her advice,” Perdita suggested.

“No, thanks.”

Nathan kicked me under the table. “That’s my sister you’re making a face about.”

“She’s not going to want to talk to me.” I had once overhead Amelia partaking in a pretty embarrassing personal conversation with another pack wolf. When she noticed me, she had looked at me with terrifying eyes that weren’t wolf at all. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, but I feared witches, too. “Anyway, I invited Margo to the party. It’s not like I need your help to talk to a girl.”

Perdita groaned. “That party is all I’ve been hearing about all day.”

Nathan laid his hand on hers. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“We have to dosomething. Your pups won’t mix—no offence, Dorian—and the longer it goes on, the more segregated we become. I worry how they’re going to end up. If they can’t fit in here, with the alpha supporting them, then what hope do they have elsewhere? So, yes, the party might be a good idea. But I’m going to visit my family that night. I don’t think hanging around school kids in a social setting is going to help my reputation at school.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “The last thing I want to do is listen to even more teenage gossip.” He grinned at me. “Dorian’s bad enough.”

“I do not gossip,” I said, knowing he was merely teasing. But the thought of Margo being a witch of some kind was intriguing. Maybe, if she understood what it was like to have a secret, she wouldn’t hate us like everyone else.

Chapter 9

Margo

Mid-term grantedme a full week off school, and as I hadn’t made any friends, I had nothing better to do than talk to the pair of lovebirds in my room. As usual, they ignored me.

I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to work up the courage to call Eva, my old best friend. I couldn’t face hearing her mother’s voice telling me Eva wasn’t in—again—so I texted her instead, staring at my phone as I willed it to light up with some kind of contact with the outside world.

My days off school were being wasted, but I didn’t know what to do about that. How was I supposed to make friends with people who weren’t interested? Chloe and Emma’s interest in me had faded pretty quickly. If I wasn’t too afraid of being left standing around on my own, I might have planned on going to the Halloween party.

Dad knocked on my bedroom door around lunchtime on the third day off.

“Come in,” I called out.

He opened the door and popped his head in. “Bored?” he asked.

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