I grab the phone in question, glaring at it.
I swear if this is spam, I will—
The thought stops dead in its tracks when I read the caller ID: Henbane Coven.
I accept the call so fast that I nearly drop it again.
“Hello?” I say breathlessly.
“Selene Bowers?” the woman on the other line says.
I clear my throat. “Yes, that’s me,” I say, trying not to sound as flustered and hungover as I am. Already, my heart is starting to gallop. Why would anyone from the school be calling me?
Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up—
“Hi, I’m Magnolia Nisim, from the Admissions Department of Henbane Coven.”
Next to me, Sybil sits up, her hair a wild mess around her head.
Who is it? she mouths.
I cover the receiver and mouth back, Henbane Coven!
“I and the rest of the admissions committee have read your paper on your magic quest, and…wow.” She pauses.
I take shallow breaths to calm my nausea while I wait. What does that wow mean?
Oh Goddess, what if I screwed my application up again? What will I do now? I don’t think I can swing another year scraping by here—
“We are all very, very impressed.”
Impressed?
I gasp, and Sybil grabs my forearm, her eyes wide and her face excited.
“We’ve received word from the Politia,” she continues.
“The Politia?” I say, my brows coming together. That was the supernatural police force. What did they have to do with any of this?
“They investigated the crash, and they concluded magic had to be involved in the plane’s landing. You were the only known supernatural on board,” she says.
When I don’t respond, she goes on. “Do you know how incredible what you did was? You saved hundreds of lives by landing that plane. The media may never hear of it, but you’re a hero, Selene.”
I lick my dry lips, feeling confused and still nauseous.
A hero?
My mind flashes to the unsealed tomb and the empty sarcophagus.
I…I don’t think that’s the right word for what I am.
“Selene Bowers,” she says, “on behalf of the entire Henbane community, I’d like to formally invite you to join our coven.”
Two days later, I stand on the pathway leading up to Henbane’s residence hall, Nero at my side.
I’m not entirely positive that this is real, not until I open my notebook and see the printed housing instructions with my name on them taped in my planner. I circled the room number—Room 306—several times.
I head up the pathway toward the front door.
This time, as I approach the lamassu, I pause to touch one. I don’t know why I love these half woman, half beast statues so much, but I get a thrill when I realize they’ll be guarding me every day.
I drop my hand and head the rest of the way up to the front door. The dark water-stained door is fitted with an elaborate bronze knocker held between the pointed teeth of Medusa. Like the lamassu, this is another threshold guardian.
As soon as my hand closes over the doorknob, the metal Medusa moves, the snakes in her hair writhing, and her metal lips part.
“Welcome home, Selene Bowers,” she says.
For a moment, I smell rosemary, lavender, and mint, scents associated with protection. Women’s voices whisper in my ear, and one of them laughs, the sound morphing into a cackle.
And then, whatever witchy ritual that was, it’s done. The phantom smells and sounds vanish, and the Medusa head freezes back into place.
I push the door open and enter the building, Nero following behind me.
Women’s voices fill the space. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
To my left, there’s a living room and a kitchen for spellwork. Beyond them is the house’s actual kitchen, where food prep is handled, and across from it is our dining hall.
To the other side of me, there’s a library, an atrium, and a hallway I know leads to a study room and the Ritual Room. And straight ahead is the main staircase.
Just like the harvest party, the building slowly goes quiet as the witches catch sight of me and Nero.
Right when the silence is about to feel awkward, Charlotte, a witch I recognize from Peel Academy, leans out of the kitchen and shouts, “Welcome to the family, Bowers!”
Several other women follow suit, calling out their welcomes to me. My shoulders, which had tensed, now relax. Whatever caused that silence, the women here moved past it to make me feel comfortable.
“Thanks,” I call out to Charlotte and the others.