Finally, someone shouts, “What in the seven hells is that?” The voice carries across the field.
My stomach roils as though I did something wrong. I don’t know why I feel this way. I’ve wanted people to recognize my worth as a witch for so long; apparently, I have no idea what to do now that they’re forced to.
I pause and place my hand on Nero’s head as I search the crowd for the voice. “This is my familiar.”
Somehow, the silence deepens; the only sounds are the crackling fire and the hiss from another witch’s familiar.
Then someone else says, “Man, that’s fucking dope as shit.”
A nearby witch laughs, and just like that, the tension eases out like air from a balloon.
Sybil grabs my hand once more and continues to pull me along as the rest of the party goes back to chatting.
“So, have you heard from the admissions committee yet?” Sybil asks as we make our way to a massive cauldron. Wildflowers grow thickly around its base, and steam drifts up from it.
I shake my head. “No,” I say softly, trying not to think about spending another year yearning to be part of the coven.
The two of us reach the cauldron, which is filled with a deep, plum-colored liquid. Herbs and dried flowers float on its surface, and white smoke drifts up from it.
Ah, witch’s brew. Exactly what I need to soothe my frayed nerves.
“Another drink already?” a nearby witch says to Sybil, pretending to be shocked. “You lush!”
Sybil and the witch cackle together as Sybil helps herself to a drink and grabs me one as well.
The other witch’s eyes move to me, and I see recognition spark in them. “Hey,” she says, “you’re the girl from the plane crash, right?”
I take the cup Sybil hands me. “Um…yeah.”
In my mind’s eye, I see that indigo magic.
We were never meant to part…
“That’s so wild. I heard that the way the plane landed could’ve only been achieved by magic,” she says.
That’s news to me.
“Did you help land it?” she asks. The witch has a look in her eye, one that makes me a little nervous. I’ve hated being overlooked, but between Nero and now this, I’m pretty sure I hate the spotlight even more.
“I can’t remember,” I say because it’s the truth. My memory of the event was wiped.
Still, her words linger with me.
The way the plane landed could’ve only been achieved by magic.
The witch’s gaze moves to Nero, and I can practically see her next question. Did you find your familiar while you were there?
Before she can voice it, Sybil grabs me by the wrist and begins dragging me away. “We’ll be back for more brew soon!” my friend calls.
I give a helpless wave and follow her. “Are you going to stop manhandling me any time tonight?” I ask.
“Don’t pretend like you wanted to stick around to answer Tara’s questions,” Sybil says.
True.
I bring my drink to my lips rather than answer. This batch of witch’s brew is smoky, and it tastes a bit like licorice. It doesn’t always taste this way; sometimes it’s floral, sometimes it’s citrusy, and sometimes it’s honeyed. The only consistent part of the alcohol’s flavor is the mildly bitter undertone that is espiritus, an ingredient that interacts with our magic.
Sybil pulls me in close. “I’m sorry to say that Kane is not here.”
I nearly choke on my drink.
“Oh my goddess, Sybil,” I say. “Please stop talking about him. I liked him a long time ago.”
She scoffs. “If a month ago is a long time.”
I narrow my eyes at her, unsure whether she’s remembering something I don’t or if she’s just playing me.
My empress…
The hairs on my arms stand on end.
Holy Mother.
My eyes dart to the trees encircling the clearing, looking for the man behind the voice.
Miss me, little witch?
My breath hitches.
This cannot be real. I left him in South America. He’d been naked and speaking in tongues, confused about where and when he was.
There’s no way he managed to make it back here.
“Selene?” Sybil says.
I’m coming for you.
I glance frantically around. Last time I heard his voice, his magic had been everywhere, the dark hue of it filling the crypt. Now, however, the air is saturated with all sorts of magic. If Memnon’s is among them all, it’s blending in with the others.
And when I find you, beloved, I intend to make you pay.