“You can’t be serious,” Amos said. At least, I thought it was Amos. He had a rather unctuous tone to his voice that tallied with the older twin. “You have to understand what this means.”

  “I do,” I said, running my fingers gently through Sybil’s hair. It was thick and shiny, like mine. “I also don’t care.”

  “You should,” William said sharply. “Sybil’s existence is only going to renew Rupert’s interest in Haven Hollow. If he finds out this was Maverick’s fault, Rupert will order Maverick’s execution or his full turning.”

  “How can he do that?” Astrid demanded. “If anything, Maverick is more warlock than vampire.”

  “He’s both,” I insisted as William nodded.

  “And to Rupert, Maverick’s vampire half will matter more than his warlock half,” William said.

  Amos looked at me then. “More likely Rupert will believe Sybil is your fault and he’ll petition the Hollow to turn you over to him.”

  I sighed. I’d been hoping to avoid announcing the Rupert problem to my friends and family, knowing they’d want to weigh in on the conundrum, when it wasn’t their place. As far as I was concerned, it was my life at stake so, ultimately, the decision should have been mine.

  “It doesn’t matter. Rupert has already made up his mind. He wants me dead, temporarily or permanently.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Amos said, baring his teeth. The gleam in his eyes scared me a little. “He’ll have to stake me first.”

  “Something he’s ready and willing to do,” I said, reaching into my handbag. Both twins stiffened at the sight of the red envelope.

  “What is it?” William asked.

  I swallowed hard. “An invitation to Rupert’s home, and a thinly veiled threat. The letter contains the addresses of our businesses in Haven Hollow and Astrid’s school. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

  “It’s a threat,” William said.

  I looked at him. “Right. He’s going to come for us, Hollow Charter be damned. And… we’re outnumbered. If I don’t go to him, he’ll kill everyone I care about.”

  Astrid’s eyes were huge, her lips parted in horror. She seemed to grasp the magnitude of what I was saying later than the twins did, but she understood. Sybil took her cue from Astrid’s reaction and went still beneath my hands. I hummed Whistle While You Work softly. It was something I did when I was under pressure to get an order out quickly. As I’d hoped, Sybil relaxed.

  “Would Rupert plan on killing us or… you know…?” Astrid started.

  “Turning you?” I shrugged. “I can’t say. It probably depends on the species. Poppy would probably die, but maybe he’d choose to turn you. I don’t know.”

  “He’s not going to do a bloody thing to anyone,” William said, echoing his brother’s sentiment.

  “At this point, I think Rupert can write his own ticket,” I argued.

  William shook his head. “There are ways around this.”

  “What ways?” I demanded.

  “We’ll call on the other Hollows. This insult won’t go unchecked. They’ll hang him in red tape and then stake him with the pointy end of bureaucracy… no one wants a repeat of the Blood Wars and this is exactly what this situation would become.”

  His expression was thunderous, hands forming bony claws in the material of his slacks. If he wasn’t careful, he’d rip gaping holes into them. He sucked in completely unnecessary breaths, his eyes wide. Was he even seeing this room? Or was his mind replaying that faraway nightmare when he and his twin had been left to the mercy of a sadistic vampire? The horrible realization of what he’d become, and exactly what had been taken from him?

  “Maybe,” I started on a sigh. “But can the other Hollow officials stake Rupert by the end of the work week?”

  “The end of this week?” Amos asked as I nodded.

  “I’ve already lost a day. That leaves four more. I have to make a decision by then.”

  “Blast and conjuration!” William shouted, banging a fist on the coffee table.

  Every book and dish on the table rattled, and a tiny fissure appeared in the wood. Sybil recoiled from the sound, hiding her face in a pillow. A fine tremor ran through her body, and I hummed louder, drowning out the echo of William’s voice.

  When she’d calmed enough, I said, “The volume is uncalled for, William, and you’ll replace my table if you know what’s good for you. It was an antique. It will be hard to find.”

  “I’m not worried about your damned furniture, Wanda, I’m more focused on your life. You can’t be considering this,” he responded.

  Goddess, my head hurt. I was so tired of thinking in circles. I was tired of the tumultuous cycling of emotion I felt about all of this. Did I want to be with Lorcan forever? As embarrassing as it was to acknowledge, even to myself, the answer was ‘yes’. But did I want to start our forever after as a bloodsucking creature of the night? That part I was less sure about. I’d been taught from the start that turning vampire was worse than a death sentence. It wasn’t the end of this life; it was the end of all lives.

  But was that really true? Mother had convinced the entire witch community that Maverick was the first warlock in seven centuries and, yet, that had been a lie. I’d been told that a blood bond couldn’t be reversed. That wasn’t true either. Was there a chance the Goddess wouldn’t forsake me if I became something unnatural? One of the undead?

  I figured there was only one way to find out.

  “Do you have a better idea?” I asked, massaging my temples. “Because from where I’m sitting, me becoming fully blooded is the only option that keeps everyone safe.”

  “Would you even turn?” Astrid asked. She looked paler than usual. Her freckles stood out like ink spots on paper. “I mean, you were blooded once, and even if that blood bond got dissolved, you could still have problems turning full vampire. What if you didn’t turn at all? What if you died?”

  That was a thought I’d actively tried to avoid. I wasn’t a witch or a vampire now. Could I turn fully, or would I slip into oblivion, leaving my friends and family to deal with my rapidly deteriorating corpse?

  “It’s a possibility,” I sighed. “But I’m inclined to think I can turn. I’m halfway there already.”

  I hooked a finger under my lip and pulled up, exposing my elongated canines and bicuspids. My ‘baby fangs’, as Lorcan called them. I refused to call them my ‘ickle incisors.’ There was only so much indignity I could bear.

  Both of my brothers blanched at the sight of my teeth, but Astrid, paradoxically leaned forward, face brightening.

  “They’re so small!” she chirped. “Not like regular fangs at all. They’re really cute!”

  I bristled. “Did you just call my fangs cute? Because I’m questioning your sanity if you did.”

  Astrid’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not saying all fangs are cute. No offense to the vampires present. But yours are so little. It’s at least a little bit cute, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I said dryly. “Grow a pair of your own and we’ll see how much you like them.”

  Astrid looked thoughtful instead of revolted, which immediately set my (new, sharper) teeth on edge. Maybe Maverick was right and I should re-think my stance on sending her to Blood Rose Academy. With my luck, she’d come back without a pulse, tethered to her first undead crush for all of eternity, regardless of whether he stuck around. No amount of blood-topped ice cream or whiny pop songs could soothe that broken heart.

  Scarlett Velardi owed me a favor for services rendered. I could send Astrid to the Sub Rosa coven instead. It was a Hollow with more witches present. She’d get an adequate education there. Of course, she’d also be cozied up to the mob. Scarlett’s husband, Guy Velardi, was the don of the local mafia. Hmm, that might be a fate worse than vampirism.

  Amos slapped Astrid lightly on the bicep. “Don’t go there.”

  Astrid rubbed at her arm with a scowl. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “You were,” William said. “At least in your head. It’s not something romantic. You’d die, Astrid. You’re too involved with vampires for your own good. It’s desensitized you.”

  “Says my vampire cousin,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I’m throwing myself at Wolfram, Vicente, or Erasmus, okay? I know better.”

  I wasn’t convinced of that, and, from his expression, William wasn’t either. Blighting the undead student body it was. Or maybe I could do something to make Astrid taste bad? Maybe replace her multivitamins with garlic pills? That could work, assuming she didn’t catch on.

  “I think we’re getting off track here,” I said.

  “Options, we were talking about options,” William answered.

  I nodded. “I don’t see that I have many.”

  “There must—” William started.

  “If you have any ideas, feel free to put them forward now,” I interrupted, growing tired with this tedious conversation. It was the same thing over and over again—no one could come up with any other ideas.

  Darla spoke up for the first time since we’d settled in. She’d been observing us quietly, which was a feat for the ex-ghost.

  “Couldn’t you go to your Aunt Tabitha? She’s the dame in charge of Crescent Circle now, right?”

  “Right,” I answered.

  She shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “So, she ain’t gonna let you march into a vampire lair without backup.”

  Astrid perked up at that. “That’s right. Tabitha won’t take this threat lying down. If you say you want her protection, she and every other witch in the coven will go toe-to-toe with Rupert to save you.” She took a breath. “Especially if it means avoiding another Blood War.”

  I shook my head. “If Rupert is willing to violate the sanctity of a Hollow, he won’t have any compunctions with killing members of other covens. And going toe to toe with him is exactly the thing that will kick off the next Blood War.”

  “Maybe… that’s what he wants?” Astrid asked.

  I swallowed hard as I considered it. “I don’t think it will bother Rupert unduly if a war happens. No matter which way I look at it, he wins.”

  “How do you mean?” William asked.

  I shrugged. “If I go, then I turn. If I don’t, he’ll seek us out. If I involve Aunt Tabitha and the rest of Crescent Circle, a lot of good people could be killed. The path of least resistance is to give in.”

  The words tasted sour in my mouth. Admit defeat? It chafed against my pride like sandpaper. Witches didn’t raise the white flag of surrender. Then again, I wasn’t really a witch any longer, was I?

  “You can’t,” William ground out.

  “I can. It doesn’t mean I want to, but I can.” I gave him a pointed look. “Will you be there for me if I do?”

  “You know we will,” Amos said. “But don’t give up on your mortality just yet, sister. We’ll find a way out of this.”

  It was the same thing Lorcan had said. The same stupid, hope-filled, idiocy.

  Maybe cynicism was in my blood, and I was incapable of seeing the silver lining. I didn’t know, but it seemed much smarter to plan for the worst. This was going to be bloody, no matter what route I chose.

  “So, in the meantime, what do we do about your daughter?” Darla asked. “Sybil needs a backstory, a history.”

  Sybil stirred, startling me a little. I’d nearly forgotten she was there. Her weight was comfortable, like a cat sitting in your lap you’d forgotten you were petting. One stormy gray eye appeared as she rolled toward me. The rest of her delicate features were hidden beneath the curtain of her hair. I swept her hair aside, tucking it behind her ear. The smile I received in return made my heart clench tight.

  I had a daughter.

  Somehow, after all this time, I was truly a mother.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t claim her. I couldn’t explain a twenty-something daughter melting out of the woodwork. Until recently, I’d always been under the watchful eyes of at least one witch from Crescent Circle or, failing that, Hellcat. Tabitha would never believe Sybil was my long-lost child. But there was one person who could be her parent whom no one would question.

  “First, we find your deadbeat dad,” I said, stroking one finger over her cheek. “And we make him admit to Tabitha what a man-whore he’s been all these years.”

  Astrid’s brow furrowed. “Well, yeah, but what good does that do? Everyone knows how gross Maverick is. It’s not like new information.”

  “No one will believe I have a daughter,” I insisted. “But no one is going to question it if Maverick knocked some mundane woman up twenty years ago and that child just happened to wander back into his life.”

  Understanding dawned on each of their faces and they let out a chorus of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs.’ Astrid was positively beaming at the thought. She was on her feet and rounding the coffee table before I could blink, arms outstretched toward Sybil.

  “Which means I’m your auntie!”

  And for the second time that evening, I was roped into a hug. Admittedly, it was more that I was a convenient anchor for Astrid’s arms when she laid half-across my lap, smothering Sybil in familial affection, but it was still uncomfortable. Poppy had definitely imparted some bad habits while teaching my ward.

  “Auntie,” Sybil repeated with a vacant smile, wrapping her arms tightly around Astrid.

  And then something peculiar happened. Sybil’s skin just... shifted. Her peachy complexion paled to a more even ivory. Freckles popped along the bridge of her nose, her arms, and across the pale expanse of her shoulders. Her face grew more angular, developing a curiously vulpine look. The darkness of her hair gave way to a familiar red-gold hue. Only her eyes remained unchanged.

  I was suddenly seeing double. There were two Astrids on my lap, one blinking down in shock at the other. The bottommost Astrid was only betrayed by the rather vacant smile on her face.

  “Oh, my goddess!” Astrid cried. “She’s a shapeshifter!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I don’t know what’s more disturbing,” I said, tipping back my shot glass.

  I thought the salt on the rim was a little much, but I wouldn’t argue with Roy. He was my supplier for the evening. “Seeing Sybil attempt to appear like a man or the fact that I’m sitting in a bar, drinking blood with you. Or that that last sentiment might become a regular occurrence.”

  Days had passed, and Rupert’s deadline was nearly upon us. I had around a day and a half to choose whether or not I raised the flag of surrender, or condemned Haven Hollow to chaos—to a potential Blood War. What I decided to do was largely dependent on whether I could find Maverick in time. My blood lust would be unruly for at least the first month after a transition. That is, if I turned. Sybil would need at least one of her parents to be present and accounted for. And if I was honest with myself, I wanted my grumpy cousin to face the consequences of his actions just once in his life.

  Lorcan chuckled, downing his own glass. After some trial and error, we determined that around eight ounces of blood would offset the worst of my symptoms. I’d never be a morning person again, but I could function normally if I supplemented.

  “Yes, it’s rather Picasso-esque, isn’t it?”

  I followed his gaze to the end of the bar in the Half-Moon restaurant. The tables had been cleaned, the floors swept, and the chairs put up for the night. The neon beer signs and open signs were dull and lifeless, having been turned off around an hour ago. The only people in residence besides ourselves were my brothers, Sybil, Astrid, and Louisa Rutledge’s brood. Astrid had agreed to babysit them while Louisa went out for dinner, in exchange for some extra cash.

  Sybil was at the center of a group of cheering were-pups, entertaining them with her impressions. Though ‘mutations’ was probably closer to the mark. With help from the rest of my friends and family, we’d begun a battery of tests on Sybil. The extent of what she could do was still a mystery, but there were a few things that had become readily apparent.

  One, Sybil could only imitate humanoid creatures. Her lower half had ended up a hairy, globby mess when she’d tried to imitate Stanley’s children. The front legs somewhat resembled the real thing, but the back legs looked like brown candle wax. She could grow taller, broader, older, slimmer, or fatter, but she had to have a human shape. Even that seemed to have limits though. Her attempts at imitating male bodies and faces ventured into ‘uncanny valley’ and sometimes arrived at Salvador Dali’s doorstep. She was trying to imitate Roy tonight, and the results were mixed. She had the height and musculature right but the face... well, I was fairly sure Roy’s nose didn’t hover near his ear. And his smile wasn’t supposed to reside on his forehead. I’d urge Sybil to stick to female bodies from now on.

  And two, she could go back to her mannequin self… to a point. She’d go still, freezing in place. According to William and Amos, her heartbeat was so faint, they could have mistaken her for a hyper realistic statue. She only had to breathe every few minutes. It made her damned near unbeatable at hide-and-seek.

  Roy elbowed Lorcan’s arm out of his way under the pretext of wiping down the bar. I was pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to rough Lorcan up a bit. The bar was already so clean I could check my teeth in the polished reflection.

  “Would you mind telling Sybil to shift into someone else, Wanda? This is disturbing,” he said.

  “I think it’s a pretty good likeness,” Lorcan said with a smirk as he turned to face me. “She has done quite a good job of capturing the beast’s essence, don’t you think?”

  “Her nose is next to her ear,” Roy pointed out.

  Lorcan looked at him and grinned. “Just like the original.”

  Another elbow swung in Lorcan’s direction, this time hard enough to make his bones creak. Lorcan stifled a sound, too prideful to actually cry out while beside me. He would probably have swallowed the sound regardless. It galled him that the sasquatch could break him over one knee if Roy so chose. Why Lorcan chose to antagonize such a man, I’d never understand, yet there it was.