No, Maverick had something… more in mind. When Wanda’s bank records indicated Maverick had purchased a plane ticket before draining most of her savings, and that plane ticket revealed he was headed for the Hollow in Texas, the true breadth of his plans came to light.

  My brother had no interest in taking up a life in Haven Hollow. He wanted to go to the Hollow in Texas in order to start up a coven there, where no one knew him or Wanda.

  But, back to the situation at hand. It was beyond strange to see Darla pawing at my brother’s body. I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for poor Wanda. I knew Darla had a weakness for attractive men, but my brother? My stuck-up, arrogant, deceitful brother? If she’d known him at all, she would have been turned off. Or at least, I hoped she would. I mean, I knew Darla was man-crazy, but I would hope she had better taste than that.

  “Oh, temper! Temper!” Darla said and giggled again. “Look at those peepers—they’re enough ta get stuck on.” I thought she was talking about Wanda’s eyes. At least, I hoped so.

  Wanda shifted uncomfortably, sinking even lower into the floor of the hearse, long legs splayed out as far as they could go.

  “You do realize, you silly ectoplasmic dolt, that the so-called ‘man’ before you is none other than your useless mistress?” Hellcat demanded. Darla didn’t spare him so much as a look. Instead, she continued to make doe eyes at Wanda, who continued to glare back at her.

  “I can’t say I care,” Darla responded and reached out to touch Wanda again, but Wanda slapped her hand away midair.

  “Darla, I mean it. Stop touching me. It’s bad enough you and Libby won’t leave me a moment’s peace, but I seriously can’t handle you groping me.”

  Darla’s full lower lip curled into a pout, but she didn’t try to stroke Wanda’s stubble again. Thank the Goddess for small mercies.

  “Besides, pawing at Wanda is my job,” Lorcan said from the passenger’s seat.

  Wanda snorted. “You have yet to paw me once since my new internment.”

  Lorcan’s smile evaporated and was replaced with an expression that revealed he was troubled. “I must admit, I’m not partial to your new internment, my dear. Alas, I am not and have never been inclined towards men.” Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Yet, I must admit, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I still feel a draw to you, even in your man form, and that is causing me some chagrin.”

  From her reflection in the rearview mirror, I could see Wanda grinning—clearly she liked the fact that she was causing Lorcan a degree of confusion regarding his sexuality. Another second though, and Wanda was fighting Darla off again. Dear Goddess, but the once ghost was relentless.

  “How much farther?” Wanda grumbled.

  “We’re getting close,” Lorcan answered as he faced me and frowned. “Now, if Astrid could master the fine art of driving in a straight line, we would undoubtedly make better time.” Then he frowned at me. “I’m still wondering why we’re relying on the only student driver among us to steer this ship?”

  Irritated, I flattened the brake pedal to the floor of the hearse, bringing the thing to a screeching halt on the empty highway. I hadn’t come across any other drivers on this stretch of road (we were traveling between Haven Hollow and Riverport) for a while. Most of the traffic was clustered around the towns as parents escorted their kids from house to house, trick-or-treating.

  Lorcan flew forward, turning his head just in time to take the impact of the windshield on the side of his face, instead of his nose. He made an inarticulate sound of pain, and scowled at the snickers coming from the back of the hearse. Then he rubbed his smarting cheek and shot me a poisonous glare.

  “Clearly, the penchant for cruel and unusual punishment is a genetic trait among all Depraysie women,” he muttered.

  “Hey, take that as a lesson not to insult the driver,” I answered sweetly, accelerating slowly. “And it’s also a reminder to buckle up. I mean, I’ve only told you that like three times already.”

  As to my driving skills, Lorcan wasn’t exactly wrong. I’d spent the majority of my life being ferried around by limos and luxury cars operated by professional drivers. This whole ‘driving myself’ thing was new. “And to answer your question about why I’m the one behind the wheel,” I continued. “I’m all you’ve got since Wanda needs to focus on locating Maverick and Olga doesn’t know how to drive.”

  “And what of Darla or Elizabeth?” Lorcan asked.

  “They’re worse drivers than I am.”

  “That’s a bunch of baloney!” Darla argued as Libby just nodded, muttering, “a woman’s place is not behind the wheel of an automobile.”

  Lorcan muttered darkly as I accelerated and took a turn too fast. A few more cars were on the road now as the lights of Riverport loomed in the distance. My chest felt tight at the prospect of driving in a medium-sized city. It was true that I only had my learner’s permit and so far, I’d clocked about five hours of practice. Wanda wasn’t great about teaching me how to drive.

  I kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding the cars that pulled on and off the two-lane road, depositing costumed kids in front of every house.

  “Here,” Lorcan, Darla, and Libby said at the same time, startling me so much, I slammed on the brakes again. Car horns blared behind me and my heart was pounding in my chest. “Can you all not yell at me at the same time, please?!”

  We were in the middle of a crowded street, a pawn shop to our left, and what looked like a night club on the other side. Lorcan jabbed a finger at the street corner. There, Wanda aka Maverick, stood, clearly illuminated by the street lamp above.

  “That slimy bastard,” Wanda muttered when she caught sight of him.

  A few college-aged women stood around him, holding various pieces of clothing, each clearly examining the enchanted costumes with interest. Behind him was Wanda’s Escalade.

  “He’s selling my items on the street?” Wanda asked, her mouth dropping open. “Like some common street vendor? This won’t be good for PR.”

  “I believe PR should be the least of your concerns, my dear,” Lorcan started, and then furrowed his brows when he turned around to face her. “I cannot wait until you are inhabiting your true body again.”

  “That makes two of us,” she answered.

  My heart beat a little faster. Maverick was almost finished making the sale. If we could catch him now, there was a chance we could reverse all the damage he’d done and we could do so before midnight. The only problem? The one parking space on the street was the size of a postage stamp, and I’d wreck someone’s car if I tried to parallel park this monstrosity.

  I turned to face Lorcan. “What do we do now? There’s no way I can park this boat.”

  “Go,” Wanda shouted from the back of the hearse, as she transferred Hellcat to Libby, who started petting him while crooning ‘nice kitty kitty’ as he growled at her. “I can park this thing. You guys go after Maverick and once you have him secure, Olga and I can break the hex.”

  “Zee child must break zee spell,” Olga said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Olga shrugged. “Just as you were zee one to cast zee spell, you must be zee one to break it.”

  “What?” I nearly choked on my own concern.

  “Vanda and I vill be nein help to you.”

  “What she said, I guess,” Wanda said with a sigh as I wondered why we’d bothered to bring Olga in the first place if she wasn’t going to be any help. Oh, well, question to answer another time.

  Lorcan nodded and looked over at Wanda. “I shall take expert care of her, you have my word.”

  Wanda nodded. “The rest of us will circle back to join you. We can hem him in.”

  Lorcan and I clambered out of the hearse, ignoring the chorus of car horns behind us. As soon as we were free of the vehicle, Lorcan wrapped an arm around my waist and simply vaulted over an oncoming Buick, landing nimbly on the sidewalk on the other side. He didn’t seem concerned about any humans spotting us, but then I remembered vampires could move so quickly, they couldn’t be spotted by the human eye. So, we were probably okay. Regardless, he set off at a brisk jog while I tried to extract my heart from my throat.

  One of the college-aged girls standing around Maverick glanced up as we approached, her eyes fixing on Lorcan, and I swore her tongue almost lolled out of her mouth, cartoon-style. I wanted to press her mouth closed and tell her to have a little dignity. Lorcan was hot, yes, I got it, but the naked lust on her face was sort of embarrassing to witness.

  Maverick glanced up from the wad of bills he was busily counting and followed the girl’s gaze, freezing when his sight landed first on Lorcan, and then on me. Lorcan gave him a sharp smile and a come-hither beckoning motion.

  Maverick took one look at the approaching vampire, dropped the merchandise, and ran. He didn’t run very well, considering he was in heels and clearly not used to them. Regardless, he made a very unmanly yelp as he ducked into traffic, narrowly avoiding a Volvo making its way down the lane. I couldn’t help my slight laugh because Maverick looked like an ostrich wearing four inch heels and running at top speed.

  The driver of the Volvo slammed on the brakes and rolled down his window, aiming a few choice curses and a middle finger at Maverick’s retreating back. Maverick paid him no mind, kicking off his heels in the middle of the street so he could move faster. More screeching tires and angry yells ensued as he sprinted across the other lane.

  Lorcan hoisted me off the ground, wedging me like an overgrown football under one arm as he followed Maverick, who reached the other side of the street and then hobbled across the sidewalk toward the nightclub. A smear of blood stained the concrete. I was betting Maverick had stepped on a piece of glass, or worse, while he was sprinting across the street, barefoot. Poor Wanda would need a tetanus shot by the time this whole fiasco was over.

  “I have a plan,” Lorcan said, shouting to be heard over the commotion the three of us had caused. “If Maverick enters the building, can you hamper him with a hex long enough to keep him from reaching the rear exit?”

  “Yes,” I nodded quickly.

  Even though hexes definitely weren’t my specialty, they were drawn from a deep-seated ill-will toward the target. After what Maverick had done, I could hex him into eternity without a shred of guilt.

  Lorcan set me on my feet outside the nightclub and flashed me a wicked grin. The violet light of the neon sign glinted off his fangs, and for just a moment, I understood the human fascination with vampires. I had a visceral, un-witchlike desire to know what those fangs would feel like fastened on my neck. Then I was horrified to have had the thought. What in the name of Tituba was wrong with me?

  “Now let’s make like the Puritans and hunt down a witch,” Lorcan said with a deep chuckle.

  Chapter Eleven

  The bouncer outside the nightclub was busily wiping red liquid off his cheeks with a look of genuine puzzlement.

  It appeared as if someone had tossed a cherry slushy into his face and, in the process, completely thrown him off guard. Which was almost the truth. Though I’d never been a victim of it, I’d seen Maverick’s forgetfulness draught before. Usually, the potion had to be swallowed to get the most effect, but anointing the skin could have muted effects on a victim, as well.

  Anointed or thrown, I figured the end result was basically the same.

  Even though I felt slightly bad for the bouncer, I was glad Maverick had hexed him with the draught. I doubted the burly bald man would have let me past without checking my ID otherwise. And no bouncer was going to let a high school student into an adult-only nightclub. Sensing our opportunity, Lorcan grabbed my hand and yanked me past the line and into the nightclub.

  The air inside was warm, almost sticky, and the black lights overhead gave the place an almost claustrophobic feel. Bodies were packed so tightly on the dance floor, it seemed like a miracle they could find the space to bump and grind to the whiny pop song blaring over the speakers. The noise bombarded me from every direction, and I felt the beat of the subwoofer in the bones of my face.

  We made it down the shallow steps to the dance floor just in time to see Maverick squirming into the crowd of dancers, disappearing into the jostling throng within seconds.

  “I am quite sure Wanda’s body is being groped mercilessly,” Lorcan muttered and didn’t seem happy about that fact at all.

  “Focus on the task, Romeo.”

  He turned around and gave me an arched brow in response. Then he held out a hand to me, giving me another of his toothy grins.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  “We don’t have time,” I started as Lorcan gripped my hand, then circled me through the crowd, twirling me until I felt dizzy. I could only curse myself for the nervous flutter of my heart.

  I do not have a crush on Lorcan. I do not have a crush on Lorcan.

  I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON LORCAN!

  I needed to find a nice boy my age pronto, especially if vampires were starting to look so appealing. Lorcan tugged me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist as if he were attempting to shield me from the crowd, in case they started groping me like he was fairly sure they were doing to Wanda… er, to Wanda’s body.

  The press of warm bodies was distracting. So much life and lust surrounded us that it was like breathing in thick, summer air. Wanda could have drawn in that charged energy and used it to craft potent spells. Wanda’s magical style had always skewed towards the passionate. I couldn’t do much with passion or desire. My magic resonated with the element of air. I thrived on meditation, communing with nature, and calm atmospheres. And this nightclub? Yeah, it was anything but calm. That meant I’d have to rely on my reserves.

  I stepped a little closer to Lorcan, pressing one ear to his chest in an effort to muffle some of the sound pounding around me, seemingly seeping into my bones. If he’d been human, I could have used the thud of his heart as a metronome of sorts in order to ground myself.

  The silence under my ear was a stark reminder of what Lorcan was—a dead man walking. His heart had stopped a long time ago, and all that lay beneath now was silence. A silence I could use, I realized with a spurt of excitement.

  I focused all my attention on that void of sound, tried to imagine filling it with intention. That was truly the core of magic: intent. I tried to picture Wanda’s stolen face, her long legs, and the bloody smears her feet must have been leaving on the dance floor. And then something occurred to me, something I could use… a tripping spell that worked best on bare feet.

  “Fates ensure his feet fumble, and I bid my enemy stumble,” I whispered, and thrust every ounce of hurt and frustration behind my words as I summoned up an image of Maverick and tied that image to one of Wanda. My nose tingled, and I felt like I might sneeze. Then I let the power flood out of me, sending a quick prayer to the Goddess to give me strength.

  For a second, nothing happened.

  Then there was a girlish shriek and a handful of people ahead of us staggered back with cries of their own. Through the gap in the crowd, I spied Wanda sprawled on the dance floor, dress hiked up to her thighs and a bloody stain on the bottom of one foot.

  It was just the opening Lorcan needed. He dove through the gap, and by the time I’d wriggled through behind him, he was helping Maverick to his feet. Okay, maybe ‘helping’ was the wrong word. Instead, Lorcan had a vice grip on Maverick’s upper arm, Lorcan’s knuckles blanching white while his expression spoke of barely restrained anger.

  But that wasn’t what the crowd witnessed. All the bystanders noticed was Lorcan’s gracious, sharp-toothed smile, and his genial, “That was quite a tumble you took, sweetling. Why don’t we find a table and sober up before we try something like that again?”

  “Let go of me, you parasite,” Maverick hissed in Wanda’s voice, low enough that only Lorcan and I could hear him. “Or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Lorcan interrupted, lowering his voice as the crowd resumed their less than PG dancing. “Scream?” Lorcan chuckled as he shook his head. “Good plan. Then you can explain to the lovely guard at the door what you threw in his face. That is, if Astrid doesn’t gag you with one of her socks, which I imagine sounds appealing right about now, you sodding bastard.”

  “Actually, I’d rather gag you with your own intestines!” I yelled at my awful brother.

  Lorcan smiled at me before returning his gaze to Maverick. “Now, you’re going to march your sexy, little borrowed arse right back out the door like a good little warlock, and then you’re going to return this body to its rightful owner.”

  Maverick’s gaze flicked to me, and he swallowed convulsively. I could have sworn he looked a little guilty. But, as soon as the thought entered my mind, I rejected it. Maverick didn’t feel guilty because he wasn’t capable of feeling guilty.

  Maverick’s jaw flexed, and he turned a glare on Lorcan as the vampire led us off the dance floor.

  “Wanda doesn’t deserve this body.”

  “Oh?” Lorcan asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Yes!” Maverick hissed. “She wastes her time in that miserable little Hollow selling pretty dresses to mortal women who will never appreciate her true talent. Wanda has enough power to be High Witch, and yet, she pisses it away on you, an undead, and that damned shop, not to mention she’s befriended a gypsy! She’s a disgrace.”

  “You’re the disgrace!” I yelled up at him, surprised by my own anger.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, Astrid,” Maverick responded between tight lips.

  “You didn’t give two shits what happened to me,” I nearly interrupted him. “All you cared about and all you care about is yourself!”