Bewitched (Bewitched, #1)(103)

There’s also the nagging possibility that some of the witches I live alongside could’ve participated in that spell circle. Another terrifying thought.

When I reach Sybil’s door, I can hear her on the other side of it, murmuring.

I knock. When she doesn’t answer, I grab the doorknob and push it open.

I mean, technically, it’s rude to barge into someone’s room, but also technically, Sybil does it to me all the time.

Also, the last time she saw me, I was fleeing her with a mojito in hand, trying to keep all my secrets to myself.

I can’t do it anymore.

When I step into her room, I see Sybil sitting inside a chalk circle she’s made, the soft lilac plumes of her magic swirling around her as she continues incanting a spell in low tones. Nestled along the edge of the circle are lit candles, their flames flickering in time to the rise and fall of Sybil’s voice.

The sight of it reminds me all over again of my burning books and Memnon’s glee. I draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to keep it together.

On the opposite side of the room, Sybil’s owl, Merlin, sits perched on a bust of the veiled maiden that’s nearly been overtaken by the vines growing rampant in her room.

I sit on her bed as Nero sniffs the air in the direction of her familiar.

“Don’t even think about it,” I whisper to him. “I will turn you into a newt if you do more than lick your lips in Merlin’s direction.”

Nero gives me a grumpy look but settles for flopping on the floor.

Not even that alarming exchange causes my friend to open her eyes. She spellcasts for several more minutes, while Nero and I and my anxiety all hang in her room. I move near her bookshelf, ignoring a Venus flytrap that literally snaps in my direction as I reach for a book.

“Don’t be naughty,” I say, tapping it on its head.

I grab a book on herbalism and flip through it while I wait, though I’m not really seeing anything when I look at the pages.

You’re in deep this time, Selene.

Memnon wanted me desperate, and already I’m feeling the first tendrils of that desperation.

Sybil’s magic thickens as she finishes her spell, the plumes of it nearly concealing her. I feel the energy in the room shift, and the candles go out all at once.

I hear her deep exhale as her power clears.

“Fuck, I love magic,” she says, opening her eyes.

She rubs out part of the chalk circle and begins to pick up the items she had spread out.

I close the book on herbalism. “What was that spell for?”

“I rolled my ankle this morning walking down the steps of Morgana Hall.”

I wince. “Did you have to walk all the way back here on it?”

“Actually, I borrowed a witch’s broom and flew back here, and honestly, Selene, we’ve got to do this together…” She takes me in. “What happened to you?”

“Is it really that obvious?” I say, touching my cheek. But it must be—even I can hear the broken notes of my voice.

“What’s wrong?” she says instead, her voice growing alarmed. “I can smell smoke on you.”

I reach a hand down for Nero, grounding myself with his presence. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” I admit. I take a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you is for your ears only.”

Sybil frowns. “Okay, now I’m really worried, Selene. What haven’t you told me?”

I share it all—everything from the spell circle gone awry to Memnon saving me. I tell her about him helping seal off the tunnel entrance—

“I didn’t even know there were tunnels,” she cuts in.

“I’ll show you it sometime,” I say softly before continuing.

I tell her about how I found out I was a soul mate. A tear drips down my cheek when I admit exactly who I’m bonded to.

“What!” Merlin flaps his wings at Sybil’s outburst, then flashes me an owlish glare, like it’s my fault I upset his witch.

I press on, mentioning how Memnon turned on me and burned my books, and I finish with my meeting with the high priestess and being on the Politia’s suspect list.

By the time I’m done, my cheeks are wet again.

For a long moment, Sybil is silent. Finally, she whispers, “I am so sorry, Selene.”

She pulls me into a hug then, and I lean into her, crying into her shoulder as she rubs my back.

“And to think my day sucked because I have a sprained ankle.”

“I’m sure the sprained ankle sucked,” I say, sniffling a little.

My friend laughs. “It did hurt like a bitch,” she says as she continues rubbing my back. “But then I got to ride a broomstick—I even cackled for the sheer hell of it.”

I let out a sad little laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure you have to cackle when you’re flying on a broomstick,” I say, pulling away to wipe at my tears. “It’s part of the rules.”

Sybil smiles at that, but it quickly disappears. “Honestly, Selene, I don’t even know where to start with this one, except that, babe, that was a crap ton of secrets.”

I laugh again, even though I know she’s saying this just to lighten the moment.

She reaches out and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I know you’re innocent.”