“Well, what kind of witch are you if you can’t do something an eleven-year-old kid can do?”
“The kind that doesn’t come from J. K. Rowling’s brilliant imagination.” She waves a hand toward the electric teakettle that always sits on top of the fridge. It starts steaming and whistling instantly.
I try to tell myself that she had it turned on the whole time, but a quick glance reveals that it’s not even plugged in. Because of course it isn’t. Why would it be?
She doesn’t stop with the teakettle, though. She waves her hand again, murmurs something under her breath, and I watch in fascination as she makes a cup of tea without ever leaving her spot on the floor.
“That’s a real cup of tea?” I ask her as it comes floating across the room toward us.
“Of course it is.” She snatches the cup out of midair, then holds it to me. “Want a sip?”
At this point, I’m pretty sure I’d rather drink rat poison. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
She shrugs, then lifts the tea to her own lips and blows a few times before taking a small sip.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this when I got here? Why didn’t your dad?”
For the first time, she looks shamefaced. “I think he was planning to, but you kept getting hurt, and it never seemed like a good time.”
“I’m not sure there’s ever a good time to tell someone that monsters are real.” I shake my head, try to remember how to breathe. “I can’t believe this is happening. I just…can’t believe it.”
“Sure you can,” she says with a sly smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freaked out.”
“I’m not freaked out. I mean, yeah, I’m on the floor and I can’t feel my legs, but other than that, I think I’m handling the whole thing fairly well.”
“Of course you are.” She grins. “Except for the fact that every word that’s come out of your mouth for the last ten minutes has squeaked.”
“That’s—” I pause and clear my throat because maybe, just maybe, I’m a little high-pitched. “What do you expect? You and Mekhi are trying to convince me that I’m living in the middle of a less bloody version of Game of Thrones. And winter is already here.”
Macy laughs, then raises a brow. “You don’t actually believe high school is a less bloody version of Game of Thrones, do you? I mean, how many times have you almost died since you got here?”
“Yeah, but those were accidents. I mean…they were accidents, right?”
“Probably.” She inclines her head. “Yeah, they were. But Jaxon’s freaking out, and he never freaks out, so…”
“He’s freaking out because someone bit me! Someone who isn’t him, I mean.” I pull off the bandage for a second time and turn my head so she can see the puncture marks just below my cut.
“Oh! Is that what this is all about?” She sounds way too relieved, considering I just told her some vampire sunk his or her teeth into me without my permission.
Then again, do they ever ask permission before they bite? And if so, who would be foolish enough to say yes? One more question to add to the tally of about a hundred or so I have waiting for Jaxon.
“I can explain everything,” Macy adds flippantly.
“Oh, well, okay then.” I make an expansive go-ahead gesture, then continue. “Please feel free. Explain away.”
“Marise did that to you.”
“The school nurse?” I don’t know why that shocks me so much, but it really, really does. “Marise is a vampire, too?”
“She is. And she didn’t have a choice. She had to bite you if she had any hope of repairing your arterial tear.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I thought it was a nick?”
“It was a tear. And you almost died. You would have died, in fact, if Jaxon hadn’t been there and done what he did to save you.”
“You mean running me to the nurse’s office?” The squeak is back.
“I mean sealing your wound so you wouldn’t bleed out while he got you to the nurse’s office.” She puts her cup of tea aside and reaches for my hands. Then, as she’s squeezing tight, she continues. “Vampire venom has a lot of different properties, depending on what the vampire intends. Jaxon didn’t bite you, but he did use his venom to seal your wound. And from what I understand, he was a little too thorough, and Marise couldn’t get through it to actually suture the wound.”