Bewitched (Bewitched, #1)(108)

“I don’t have anything fancier,” I say. “Besides, how am I going to crush my enemies beneath my boots if I’m not wearing boots?”

“You’re not going to crush them beneath your boots,” Sybil says with an exaggerated eye roll. “You’re obviously going to impale them with your stiletto heel. Just give me a sec—”

She dashes out of the room, her own nude heels already on. Distantly, I hear something thumping down the stairs, followed by curses.

Uh-oh. This is why stilettos are a bad idea—especially when alcohol is involved.

I rush out of my room, passing other witches in various states of dress. Lying on the landing, her dress basically around her waist, is Sybil.

Another witch is already there, ready to help her, but she waves the girl away. “I’m good, I’m good.”

Despite her words, I head down to the landing and help pick my friend up as she smooths her hands over her dress.

“The shoes aren’t worth it,” I whisper.

“I didn’t just eat shit for nothing, Selene,” she says. With that, she pulls her hand away and staggers down the rest of the stairs, heading to her room.

I take the moment to visit my own room and grab my phone, which I tuck into my dress. Nero has been lounging next to my bed this entire time, but now, as though sensing I’m leaving the room for good, he follows me out.

We get to Sybil’s room just as she’s closing the door behind her, her owl familiar perched on her shoulder and a pair of open-toed stilettos in her hand.

“Here,” she says when she sees me, thrusting the heels at me.

I slip the shoes on, and then we make our way downstairs with our familiars before heading out of the house alongside another group of witches—two of whom are wearing Chucks.

Meanwhile, I’m strapped into a pair of stilts.

Wait, this thought feels familiar. Did I have an entire exchange just like this one with Sybil on another night…?

I bet I did.

I exhale. I better be putting off killer-queen vibes, or I’m going to mutiny.

The group of us cuts across campus, following the stream of witches heading toward the conservatory. Nero prowls at my side, acting as my date.

Overhead, the full moon shines down, illuminating the darkness and limning our surroundings in a pale blue light. I draw in a breath at the sight of it, my magic tingling as it too feels the touch of that light. Full moons are for revelation and truth that not even the darkness can hide. And this one, the hunter’s moon, is particularly poignant.

It’s a good night for revenge and for forcing Memnon to face my true feelings of him.

Witches on broomsticks cut through the air, laughing with abandon, their skirts and hair waving in the wind behind them.

An old sense of longing comes over me, and I have to remind myself I’m in the coven and I’ll learn how to fly on brooms eventually. That’s one more thing I’ll get to accomplish during my time here. I just haven’t yet.

The conservatory glows in the distance, the all-glass structure lit from within and without by hundreds of levitating lanterns, the flickering candlelight creating a beautiful, almost-Gothic effect.

I’ve never actually been inside the coven’s massive greenhouse. Not until tonight. It’s clear as I get closer that I’ve been missing out. I can see all sorts of wild greenery growing inside, and in honor of Samhain, someone’s grown pumpkins the size of chairs outside the building. Many are still attached to their vines, and the plants themselves curl around the massive fruit.

I make my way up the marble steps leading to the door, Nero at my side. I glance at Sybil’s shoulder, noticing that Merlin has already flown off into the night. I pause, glancing around as the rest of the witches continue into the building. No one else’s familiar seems to be with them.

I chew on the corner of my lip as I take in Nero. “I don’t think you’re allowed inside as you are,” I say.

My panther looks at me for a long time with his golden-green eyes, as though he’s trying to silently communicate something. I slip down our bond and into his head for a moment, and I feel an emotion from him I’m not expecting—affection.

Slipping back into my own body, I kneel so I can place my forehead against my familiar’s.

“I love you too,” I whisper to him. I pull away and pet his face. “Stay safe in those woods tonight.” There are bound to be a lot of drunk, lusty witches making bad decisions out there.

Nero gives me another long look, as if to say, You stay safe too.

Or maybe that’s just me anthropomorphizing my familiar. I nod anyway.

With one final look, Nero turns from me and lopes toward the tree line. I stand, watching him go.

Empress…

My flesh puckers at Memnon’s call. I turn to face the conservatory once more, and I startle when I catch sight of him through the double doors.

He stands with his hands in the pockets of his tux, looking so much larger than the people moving around him.

I suck in my breath at how good he looks, his wildness caged in by the cut of his suit jacket and pants. Well, mostly caged in—he’s done away with a bow tie, his dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, and I can see that panther tattoo of his peeking out above the collar of his shirt. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it several times.

If I thought a tuxedo would make Memnon look any less dangerous, I was wildly wrong.