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This is insane.
Jason pulls me up the slope to the summit of the hillock, his hand warm around mine, and I won’t admit it but I’m grateful for the help. And for his touch.
No, not going to say that to him, ever. That I feel like I missed him. That I don’t want to go and leave him here. Emrys, either.
Get your wits together, Sin. This is fucking crazy.
“Here,” he says and turns to face me. “Damn, you look shaky. Wanna sit?”
“I’m fine,” I say, more abruptly than I’d meant to. “Areyouokay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I watch his face but I can’t tell if he’s being honest or not. I open my mouth to ask if Ophelia is treating them okay, if she’s tormenting them with magic, but close it in the last second. Bad idea. Especially if they’re under her spell.
“Sin?”
Reluctantly, I let go of his hand. “It’s about Ashton.”
“What about him?”
“His brother is in the hospital, remember? He’s very distraught.”
“I…” Jason frowns, then rubs at his forehead. “Dammit, yeah. The memory feels so distant.”
“Distant? Can’t you remember what happened with Ashton? The shift?”
He shakes his head.
“What in the Underhill,” I whisper. “Listen to me, Jax, this has to be Ophelia’s magic at work.”
He’s still shaking his shaggy head. “You’re wrong, Sin. She’s not using magic to keep us with her.”
“Oh, really,” I say bitterly. “Right, of course. It’s your choice. She’s only manipulating what you remember and what you feel in her favor, that’s all.”
“Nonsense.” He’s still frowning darkly, clearly annoyed. “She’s not manipulating us, Sin, it’s our decision. She’s the stronger witch. You should join us.”
I take a steadying breath. No reason to argue with him if he’s convinced otherwise, not now. “I’m here to talk about Ashton.”
“Right. Ash.”
“He’s going to break out of the Academy tonight to visit his brother. The Headmaster won’t give him permission, so he has to force his way through the spells keeping the Academy closed off. He needs our help.”
Jason shrugs. “What can we do?”
“Offer what demonblood we have left to help him break out of here and accompany him. The shooter is still out there, waiting to get us—”
“The shooter?” He blinks. “What shooter?”
“Jax,” I breathe, feeling sick. “You’re fucking with me, right? You know who I’m talking about. The shooter. You have a wound from an arrow on your shoulder, these black arrows that put a demonblood spell in us, dampening it—”
“I don’t recall,” he says brusquely, though he raises a hand to massage his shoulder. His eyes widen and he drops his hand to his side. “You’re wrong.”
My blood chills. What else has he forgotten?
I glance back down at the bonfire. Ophelia is glaring at me, I can tell even in the half-dark, and Emrys’ hold on her arm looks restraining. “It doesn’t matter. Ashton could be in danger, going out there alone. We have to go with him.”
“No can do. Ophelia needs me by her side.”
