Her friend catches her broom by the handle and whispers an incantation into the wood that makes it lower itself to the ground.
She turns to the other witch. “Do you think…？”
Do you think she was murdered? I’m sure that’s what she intended to say.
My heart pounds harder, and I can hear my pulse between my ears.
Was Kasey mortally wounded that night? Or did Memnon go after her? I mentioned to him that I was worried about her.
“I don’t know,” says the witch with the serpent familiar. “I mean, it seems possible, right?”
Sybil nudges me with her shoulder. “Are you okay, Selene?” she asks, watching my face, then glancing at the witches.
I nod, then shake my head. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I still haven’t processed any of what happened to me over the weekend, and I haven’t dared to tell my friend about it. I’ve carried it all around like a dirty little secret, and I’ve shamefully hoped my magic might steal away the memories before I have to deal with them.
Abruptly, I stand, knocking over my glittery purple nail polish. “I just…don’t feel so well.” Not a lie. “I think…I think I’m going to go lie down a bit.”
Before my friend can respond, I’m capping my nail polish and grabbing my mojito and fleeing back inside our house.
Sybil calls after me, but I pretend not to hear it.
I cut through the dining room, then down the hall, then up the stairs. I’m nearly to my room when I feel the muffled buzz of my phone from the pocket of my pants.
I ignore it, knowing it must be Sybil sending me a concerned text. I’ll be fine once I have a moment to myself.
I just need a moment.
Nero is waiting for me inside my room, curled up at the foot of my bed like some mutant house cat.
After setting my nail polish and mojito on my desk, I move over to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his soft fur.
Beneath me, my familiar makes a put-out noise.
“I love you, you big grumpy cat. I don’t care that you’re not touchy-feely. You are the best familiar a witch could ask for.”
For a long moment, my familiar doesn’t move. When he does, however, it’s to bump his head against mine and rub his face against me.
Nero lets me hold him for several minutes longer, until the moment is broken by another buzz from my phone.
I sigh, releasing him.
I pull out my phone and see several notifications. Two are texts from Sybil, asking me what’s going on and if I’m really okay. Another text is from my mother, who shared a picture from her and my father’s extended tour of Europe. In it, the two of them are drinking beer at Oktoberfest—cute. The last notification is an email from Peel Academy.
They got back to me about my Awakening records.
I open my messages and quickly text Sybil back that I’m fine and everything is okay and nothing at all is wrong （because why would anything be wrong?） and I’m 110 percent groovy like a movie.
I bite back my hysterical laugh.
Then I open my email.
There’s a response to my earlier inquiry about my Awakening results, but I don’t even bother reading it once I see they included an attachment labeled Bowers_Selene_results. I click on the PDF file, and my official Awakening record appears.
I scroll past the information at the top, which lists my name, date of birth, and date of Awakening. My actual results are near the bottom of the page.
The notes are brief.
Awoken Supernatural Categories:
Witch
Soul Mate
CHAPTER 36
Three years ago, I was given a draught of bittersweet, and my powers Awoke. I only remembered one of them—that I’m a witch.
But apparently, there was a secondary one I forgot.
That I’m a soul mate.
It’s right there, typed neatly onto the document bearing Peel Academy’s seal.
Soul mate.
I can all but hear Memnon’s voice in my ear.
Mate.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I press my hand to my forehead and push my hair back.
That swamp monster I revived from undying sleep was right this whole time? Memnon is really, truly my soul mate? And I mean, okay, he’s not a swamp monster—he’s devilishly handsome, and I think I might have fallen in love with him a little after I invited him into my bed, but he also believes we were lovers two thousand years ago.
And now I have to seriously entertain that idea.
Goddess, why me?
I blow out a breath. Let’s take it one step at a time, Selene.
I go to my shelf and glance down the line of magic-related books until I get to one on types of supernaturals. I pull it out and plop on my bed next to Nero, flipping to its glossary. Then I run my finger over page after page of definitions until I get to the one I’m looking for.