The entire room was gone through. I would have almost thought whoever this was—that they were searching for something, but the bright red letters scrawled on the wall made it seem a lot more personal.

  “Liar,” I mumbled. Then was this about the fact that I wasn’t fully vampire? Had someone found me out and this was their way of telling me they knew the truth? It took me a moment to realize my hands were shaking, and I twisted them up in the sides of my sweater to try to make them stop.

  Then Lorcan eased me out of the doorway so that Taliyah could take a glance around.

  I had to resist the urge to yank her back out again. It was my room, and I’d already had one person in there without my permission. I might not spend a lot of time here, but the room and the things in it were mine. I’d picked them all out, decorated carefully in mauves and darker plums.

  And the clothes! I wasn’t as hard up as I’d been when I’d first blown into Haven Hollow, but that didn’t mean I had a coven credit card to drop on a new wardrobe. I’d either carefully selected or made a lot of the items in my closet, weaving enchantments in between the threads myself.

  The idea that some stranger had laid their hands on it all, had destroyed every article I’d worked on, it made me sick to my stomach.

  “What’s going on?” Sybil pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes flaring wide when she caught a glimpse of my room. “Oh no! What happened?”

  Before I could even think about how I was going to respond, Olga shushed her and tugged her back, as if my shattered room was contagious.

  Now I understood how Imani felt, at least, this sense of gross violation. Anger bubbled up under everything, sending noxious fumes through the rest of my body. My power roiled inside me, dark magic begging to be unleashed.

  Whoever did this, whoever had come into my coven and tried to wreck it, I was going to make them regret it.

  Taliyah stood up from where she’d crouched beside the shattered remains of my vanity and make up. “They targeted your clothing and personal items. There was a lot of anger that went into this and that means it’s personal,” she said as she looked up at me. “You can’t think of someone you might have really ticked off?”

  “I can’t think of just one person,” I said tightly. “I tick off a lot of people.” On the daily.

  “Well, let’s narrow it down, shall we?” Imani’s voice was a little too bright for the simmering anger I could see in her eyes. “Chief Morgan says that a lot of anger went into this and that it was personal. Let’s see if we can track that anger back to where it came from.”

  “You can track an emotion?” Poppy glanced from Imani to me before continuing. “Wanda usually needs a physical item or connection.”

  I made a face, remembering the last time I’d had to track someone. That had been when my idiot familiar had decided to drink from an experimental potion thinking it was booze, the lush. He’d managed to teleport himself all over the blasted town before we’d finally caught up with him.

  Imani smiled, small, but genuine. “I’m good at finding stuff. And, yes, if the emotion is strong enough, sometimes it can lead to the person it came from, especially if they’re still nearby.”

  “Let’s do it, then.” I turned my back on my room and stalked back towards the stairs. I’d have to do inventory eventually, replace all the damaged things. But right now, I just wanted to catch whoever it was who’d done it.

  “Are you going to do magic?” Sybil looked from Olga to Maverick. “Can I help?”

  I grimaced. I wanted to include Sybil, I did. She was Maverick’s and my kid, and while she wasn’t a witch, she’d come from two of them, and there were things that she should know for her own protection. But Sybil was made from wild magic, and I had no idea what her presence would do to a spell. At the very least, it sounded like something to explore when the stakes were a little lower.

  Before I could say anything, Maverick spoke up.

  “Not this time,” he said, his voice just shy of terse. “It’s not safe in the coven at the moment, Sybil, so I need you to go back to your room... please.”

  Sybil’s face fell, eyebrows pinching together.

  Taliyah put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ll come with you, okay? Maybe we can talk about going to do something on the weekend? My boys want to try skating again.”

  That at least wiped most of the misery off Sybil’s face, and she turned to head back to her room with Taliyah falling into step with her.

  The second the door closed, we trooped down the stairs to the main room.

  Lorcan and Maverick went to work, moving the furniture and rolling back the carpet to reveal the partially completed circle etched into the floor. It wasn’t smart to have a complete circle left intact for too long, but this saved time.

  Betanya grabbed the candles, and Olga fished a bit of chalk out of a drawer to finish the circle. Poppy started rooting through her bag, pulling out little glass vials in a veritable rainbow of shades. She pushed a lemon-yellow bottle to one side, frowning.

  “Probably not the zest potion,” she mumbled. “No one needs super coffee, I don’t think. Hmm, Protection from harm couldn’t hurt, could it? Oh! Uncrossing Oil, I knew I still had some of that in here.”

  I left her to it, and Poppy started hovering about like a particularly cheerful hummingbird, anointing parts of the circle with her potions.

  “Is there anything specific you need?” I asked Imani.

  She shook her head, her dark hair sliding over her shoulders. “No. This is a pretty quick one, since it’s time sensitive. Emotions fade faster than other connections. Unless whoever it was exists in a state of heightened anger, the connection won’t last long. And if they do, I’m surprised they limited themselves to just damaging stuff, you know?”

  I did know, so I just nodded.

  The circle came together, and I kept an eye on everything. That was part of my job, as High Witch, to oversee. The symbols were correct, the chalk lines straight. The potions were anointed, the candles lit. Everything was done quickly and efficiently. Just the way it should be.

  In spite of everything, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction. This was what being in a coven was supposed to be. Everyone harmonizing, working together to weave magic—working side by side. It gave me a bit of hope that, no matter who it was trying to tear us all down, we would rise up stronger.

  Maverick opened the window in the room so that his familiar, Isis, could come in from outside. The owl didn’t seem to enjoy being in the house, and she tended to wait outside when Maverick was around.

  There was a little scrabble of claws on the wooden floor, and Yew poked his pink nose from under one of the chairs that had been shifted to the edge of the room. He might have ventured closer to take a look, but Isis’s presence kept him away. She wouldn’t eat another familiar, but I could understand Yew’s hesitation. He might be a big rat, but he was still a rat.

  He didn’t comment, just settled in to watch, and I let him be. I wondered if he missed his witch, missed being part of the bond that allowed familiars to work magic. I’d never ask him, of course. I wouldn’t appreciate anyone picking at my emotional scabs, either.

  Everything was ready, and the coven took their places around the outside of the circle, with Imani in the center. She tossed her long hair back over her shoulder, and gave herself an all-over shake like she was limbering up.

  Lorcan moved away, and took a seat in the chair Yew was hiding under. Maverick actually hesitated, which wasn’t unusual for him. I imagined he still sometimes couldn’t believe he was a member of Scapegrace, that he wasn’t just permitted to be here, but encouraged, wanted, accepted.

  I shot him an impatient look and stabbed my finger at a spot on the circle’s outer edge. He rolled his eyes and stomped over to take his place, but the line of his shoulders softened as he did it.

  Willie-Ray and Franz took their positions at Betanya and Olga’s feet. Isis launched herself onto Maverick’s shoulder in a near silent flap of her velvet wings.

  I looked around until I saw Hellcat with his back towards us all, pointedly grooming his paw.

  “Come on, you horrible little creature,” I said. “Get over here.”

  Hellcat hissed, but stalked over to take his place beside me. Then resumed cleaning himself.

  Lorcan flipped the light switch before retreating back to his seat, leaving the room illuminated only by the soft golden glow of the candles. I took a deep breath, smelling the lavender and mint of Poppy’s potions, and the beeswax of the candles. All the while, I basked in the feeling of everyone’s magic rising.

  “Begin,” I said quietly.

  Imani led us, her head falling back, arms above her head as she spoke in French. I didn’t understand the language enough to fully grasp what she was saying, but I understood the tone and the urgency. She started soft, almost cajoling, but her voice rose, growing stronger, until it was closer to a demand than a question.

  Everyone joined in, backing her will, her power with their own, and this was what a coven was meant to be. All of us working together, our magic mingling and blending into a glorious harmony. I felt like I was breathing pure oxygen, and it was dizzying and delightful. I’d always enjoyed doing circle work, but I’d never realized how much I enjoyed it until I’d been banished from my original coven.

  The candles flared up, the light casting sharp lines of shadow on the floor. The light caught in Imani’s raised hands, building and twisting, taking form.

  The inside of the circle felt like the air just before a thunderstorm broke. The crackle of power, or potential, it grew and grew. I could feel everyone individually, Maverick’s tsunami of magic just ready to rip free, Poppy’s lemon and marigold bright scent, Betanya’s steady, solid presence. But I could also feel where we merged, where we blended together and made something new, something strong.

  The light in Imani’s hands took form, and a small, iridescent snake tasted the air, a wash of rainbow hues running down its side. What she’d conjured might have looked like a snake, but it moved more like an eel, undulating through the air around her like it was swimming lazily through the ocean. Its little tongue flicked out on occasion, and then it stilled.

  We all waited as Imani gestured for Olga to break the chalk line, and no sooner had Franz wiped away part of the markings with his creepy little raccoon hands, then the snake was off like a shot, darting for the stairs of all places.

  Was whoever had done this still in the house? Upstairs, with Sybil and Taliyah?

  Lorcan was up and moving in an instant, with Imani flowing along on his heels like she had the snake on a line. The rest of us hurried after, buoyed along on the wake of the spell released, up the stairs and down the hall just in time to see the little snake dip straight through the door and into Sybil’s room.

  My heart squeezed inside my chest. Were they in there with Sybil? Was she in danger?

  I threw the door open and burst into the room, blowing past Lorcan and Imani, only to screech to a stop.

  Taliyah had half risen from where she’d been sitting on the bed next to Sybil, one hand on her service weapon, the other glittering with Winter magic. Sybil had let out a surprised little yip as the door crashed against the wall.

  But none of that was what caused me to feel like I’d been turned into stone.

  The snake did a little figure eight in the air and popped like a soap bubble, its magic spent. It had done what it set out to, revealing the dark malice that had stalked the coven. Emotion like that wasn’t usually visible to the naked eye, it took a spell like Imani’s to reveal how it coated, clinging to every surface like rotten cobwebs.

  And just for that instant, just before the spell popped, Sybil blinked up at me with confused, frightened eyes.

  She and the room were absolutely caked in that awful, clinging malice.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everything got a little crazy for a while.

  We ended up walking back down to the living room and kicking the carpet back into place after getting the candles out of the way. Sybil, pale and teary-eyed, sat in the wingback by the fireplace.

  “This doesn’t even make any sense,” Maverick raged. “She doesn’t have magic!”

  “None of the things that have been done actually require magic,” I said through numb lips. “Just strength.”

  And while Sybil liked to make herself look like a witch of about fourteen or fifteen, she was a shapeshifter. That meant she could make herself bigger or stronger, if she wanted to.

  I’d just been pointing out the facts, but from the way Maverick’s face contorted with fury, it had been the wrong thing to say.

  I held up a hand, trying to stave off the outburst we really, really couldn’t afford right then. “I’m not saying she did it, I’m just saying, there hasn’t been any magic used that I’ve noticed.”

  “She didn’t do it,” Maverick insisted.

  There was no right answer to that, not with Maverick in his current mood. If I disagreed with him, he’d get even angrier. If I agreed with him, he’d accuse me of trying to placate him. I didn’t play games that were lose-lose, so I just turned back to the chaos that was raging in the coven’s living room.

  “You must have done the spell wrong,” Betanya said, drawing her shawl around herself, as she faced Imani, whose eyes narrowed.

  “This was no fault of the spell’s.”

  “You can’t seriously think that Sybil would do these things?” Maverick snapped at her. His voice was angry, but his expression was almost betrayed.

  Taliyah raised her hands, like she was doing crowd control. “Let’s all calm down. Besides, Sybil couldn’t have ransacked Imani’s shop, right? She was either here, or she was at school.”

  Sybil pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, refusing to look at anyone. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was crying, or if she’d actually made a change to her appearance, but she suddenly looked so much younger. More like eleven than a teenager.

  “Wanda, I didn’t do it!” she said as she looked up at me. “I didn’t do anything!”

  I looked at her, and no matter what anyone said, or what the magic revealed, I just couldn’t believe that all of this was owing to Sybil. She just... didn’t have it in her. She wasn’t that type of person—it was like saying a five year old was responsible for such damage and destruction. Or maybe my reaction was just stupid, soft, and sentimental. My old coven would have torn me apart if I’d shown this kind of weakness in front of them. But seeing Sybil there, so small and unhappy, I couldn’t stop my mind from giving her red hair instead of black, and Astrid’s big green eyes.

  Astrid might have been my cousin, but she’d felt more like the daughter I’d never had. And after what had happened to Astrid... well, I wouldn’t fail again.

  “I know,” I told Sybil softly.

  “Of course, you didn’t, honey.” Poppy crouched down next to her chair, her ever-present maternal instinct going into overdrive in the face of an upset child. “No one is saying you did.”

  Olga stepped forward then, and her expression revealed the fact that she didn’t agree with the two of us. That observation was only heightened when she pointed a finger dramatically at Sybil. “Vhy? Vhy vould you steal mein letters!”

  Sybil burst into tears as she shook her head. Then she slithered out of the chair and bolted for the stairs. A few seconds later, we heard her bedroom door slamming shut.

  Maverick shot Olga a look that had the German witch backing up a step. I watched, ready to jump in if I needed to, but Maverick visibly reined himself in, his eyes squeezing shut. I could practically hear him counting in his head.

  “Okay, time out, everyone.” Imani actually made a ‘T’ with her hands as she spoke. “I think you’re all not understanding what the spell was telling us.”

  “Enlighten us, then,” Maverick growled, still not opening his eyes. Clearly, he was doing his best to reel in his temper. Points for him.

  Imani gave him a look that said very clearly, ‘I know you did not just growl at me’, but she showed a great deal of un-witch-like magnanimity by letting it go, and answering his question instead of calling him out.

  “Look, tracking an emotion is not only difficult, but it’s also fleeting. Emotions are pretty ephemeral. It’s not like following a body, okay? Only the very strongest of feelings tend to linger after the person feeling them is gone.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder with a practiced flip of her hand. “The spell can only focus on the closest source. It doesn’t have time to focus on anything else.”

  “So she ist ze source,” Olga said, thrusting one plump hand into the air as she motioned to Sybil’s bedroom upstairs.

  Maverick looked like a volcano about to erupt.

  A wrinkle formed between Imani’s brows, like she had a headache coming on. “Not necessarily. All it means is that whoever did feel the emotion originally, did a lot of it while in Sybil’s vicinity. It could be as simple as whoever this was getting their nasty malice all over her, and that malice clung. Possibly because Sybil is made from magic, right? She’s always going to be more sensitive to that sort of thing.”

  Wait.

  “So, whoever has been harassing the coven, they could just have been in close proximity to Sybil?”

  Imani nodded. “For a long enough period of time, or they were around her often enough that they got their bad juju all over her and that bad juju stuck to her.”

  I felt like the top of my head was going to come off, magic swirling under my skin as anger and fear churned together into an ugly mass in my stomach. “Who the spell has she been hanging around who had bad intentions towards the coven? And how did we not notice them?”

  Maverick strode for the stairs. “I’m going to go and ask her.”

  “Finally, a reasonable idea,” Betanya said, pulling her shawl closer around her with a sniff.

  Olga’s hand fluttered to her chest. “But if not Sybil, und not Betanya, zen who vas in mein bedroom? Who took mein letters?”