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BLAIR
"See?" Elspeth says as my coven sisters rush out of the great hall, following me as I run away from the party. "Do you believe us now?"
"Elspeth,enough," Sybil scolds her.
"What? She should have listened. Wetriedto warn her."
I listen to the two of them bicker and brush away Isla's hand when she touches my arm in some sort of comforting gesture that is not welcome right now.
I want to be alone.
"We told you not to get involved with that vampire," Elspeth persists. "He can't be trusted."
I want to tell them that isn't true, that Treyton would never do anything to hurt or betray me. But now, after what I just saw, I'm not so sure I believe that.
He was flirting with another woman, justmomentsafter he made love to me. And I heard what he said to those vampires, that I didn't matter to him at all, that I was just another notch on his bedpost, another warm hole to sink his cock into. How could he have said those things?
"Maybe he didn't mean what he said," Isla says as she walks beside me, matching my pace and glancing over at me nervously, like she's waiting for me to have a complete meltdown. "Maybe he was just trying to get the vampires to—"
"It doesn't matter," I interrupt her harshly. "It doesn't matter why he said those things. The fact is that he said them. I would rather he announced to all the guests that we fucked than hear him say what he did."
All three of them stop and look at me, and I foolishly turn around when I no longer hear their footsteps behind me.
"What?" I ask, throwing my arms up in the air indignantly.
"Yousleptwith him?" Sybil asks, looking shocked.
"What else did you think we were doing?" I hiss back at her. "Did you just think that we were exchanging trade secrets? Or just stealing kisses in the corners of corridors? Yes, I slept with him! And it was the most wonderful moment of my life until he had to go and ruin it by acting like an asshole."
"She isn't wrong about that last part." Elspeth snorts. "Why are all vampire clan leaders such jerks? The wolf pack would never allow someone of such questionable character to—"
"Ohplease," I interrupt, rolling my eyes at her. I'm at the end of my patience with them. "You can shove your morals right up your—"
"Okayenough," Sybil says, taking the lead to end this quarrel. "The bottom line is that Treyton betrayed you, and from the sounds of it heusedyou too. Go back to your apartment for the night, lick your wounds, and then come to the coven building in the morning so we can get back to work and take your mind off this ridiculous escapade."
I open my mouth to argue with her, but Sybil talks right over me.
"We all know you're upset, Blair, and what Treyton did was wrong on so many levels. But there isn't anything else you can do about it now. The best way to handle it is to learn your lesson and move on."
I hate it when Sybil sounds all reasonable and maternal.
I spin around on my heels and head off toward my apartment, leaving the rest of them to talk about me over another glass of wine, I'm sure.
When I get back to my apartment, the first thing that I do is take off my dress and disenchant my hair and eyes. I don't want to see or feel anything that reminds me of what happened tonight—good or bad. If I think about any of it, I know I'll start to cry.
I was afoolto think things could work with Treyton. The wordsI love youwere right on the tip of my tongue as I laid in his arms after we made love, and I was terrifyingly close to saying them. Thank the stars I didn't.
I hear the vibration of my phone against the glass table in my living room and I go to silence it. I know the other witches are probably worried about me and checking in, but I'm sick of them too. I'm sick of everyone. But when I look at the phone, Treyton has texted me seventeen times. And called me four. I don't bother reading the texts. I just power off the phone and throw it against the wall, hearing a cracking sound as it falls to the wooden floor.
I lock myself in my room, put on my comfiest pajama pants and loose t-shirt, and spend the next few days avoiding everyone. I'm usually outspoken and hard-headed. Withdrawing inward for these few days is unlike me and feels strange, but necessary. My phone stays powered off, I ignore the few knocks on my door (probably the witches checking in on me), and spend a few days laying out an astrology chart.
When that's done, I pour over my celestial oracle deck, illustrating new cards by hand and detailing them to perfection. If nothing else, the tragedy masquerading as my personal life lends itself well to creating gorgeous artwork. I also build a small alter to Selene, the Goddess of the Moon, to ask her for guidance.
By the time the fourth day rolls around, I still haven't set foot outside my apartment or turned my phone back on. There is peace in solitude. But no matter how hard I try to concentrate, my mind constantly wanders back to Treyton.
When I roll out of bed and start the coffee pot on my fifth day of self-imposed seclusion, someone knocks aggressively on my door. I ignore it; if it's the other witches, there's no need to answer. They know I'm fine. The magic that binds our coven together alerts the others if one of us is sick or injured, so they know full well that there is nothing wrong with me, except perhaps for my mental state. So I go about pouring my coffee and ignoring it.
But then the knock comes again, louder than before.
