Lorcan had swung himself up into his own saddle with a smile and a cocky grace that had me scowling. It wasn’t fair though, because he’d been riding horses since before cars were invented. Maybe he’d even been some kind of dashing highway man back in the day, racing down the dark roads to chase carriages or something. Meanwhile, the closest I’d come was a pastel-painted wood horse at some mundane carnival.

  The thing was, I could only stay frozen stiff for so long before my muscles cramped, or I had a stroke, and I was pretty sure vampires couldn’t get those. So, eventually, my muscles all got tired and eased out. After that, riding got a lot easier. Marigold had this kind of gentle, rocking sway, and the more I relaxed into it, the easier it was not to feel like I was going to get bounced off any second.

  Once I managed to unclench myself, the trip was actually nice. Oleksy led us along a well-travelled path between the trees, and thanks to the whole vampire thing, I could still see clearly. The little dots of golden fireflies darting around between the trunks were enchanting, like I was in that scene in The Little Mermaid when she and Prince Eric were in the boat, gliding through the reeds.

  The hot, sunbaked heat of the town was missing out here in the woods. It was still warm, sure, but pleasantly so, not the thick, choking dusty dry temperature that had smothered the town all day. The earth here smelled rich, and a little dry instead of the heavy, damp loam of the woods back in Haven Hollow. But the woods here had their charm, all the same.

  The rustle of the wind through the leaves was a gentle hissing, and Marigold flicked a curious ear towards the trees when a branch swayed. She didn’t freak out, so I figured there was nothing out there that two vampires and a spirit or whatever Oleksy was needed to worry about. Horses were professionals at panicking, after all.

  The rhythmic swaying, the bob of Marigold’s head in front of me, the smooth leather of the reins between my fingers all had a soporific effect on me. In fact, I was sure that if I hadn’t been a vampire and basically incapable of getting drowsy without the sun in the sky, I’d have been nodding off over the saddle bow by now.

  Lorcan was in his element. He was only holding the reins in one hand, the showoff, and swaying along with his horse with an easy grace that I couldn’t have managed for all the blood at the Red Cross. His hair glinted like new gold under the light of the moon, which was filtering through the clouds overhead, and I made a face at his back while I tried to find a more comfortable spot on my saddle without shifting around too much.

  The ground slowly climbed upwards as our little group switched backed through the trees. Oleksy led the way, and, evolutionary inclination aside, the horses seemed happy to go wherever he led them. Whatever chill guy aura he had, it soaked into everything around him, and I felt some of the muscles in my back relax for the first time since I’d set foot in Jinx Junction.

  Which was probably exactly what Lorcan had been angling for. It was sweet of him to do this for me, but I could never tell him as much. Wanda wouldn’t be happy if he started getting a swelled head.

  It wasn’t easy to talk, with us all ambling along single file, but with the way I was feeling, that was a pro, not a con. It was nice to just chill, even if I had to do it from the back of a thousand-pound herbivore with a near terminal fight or flight instinct. I let myself relax into the sway, bobbing along with Marigold’s stride. I didn’t have to think about anything. Not Jinx Junction, not what Uncle Fox had planned for me, not whatever the spell was up with Rook. Nothing.

  It was just me, Marigold, and the gentle song of the crickets in the grass.

  The trees thinned out the higher we climbed, and eventually we broke into a clearing filled with grass that would have been brown in the day, but had been gilded silver under the moonlight. It swished against the horse’s legs as we walked. Just faintly, so small I could have been imagining it, I could pick out the light, fast beating of small hearts in the field. Mice and rabbits, no doubt, hunkering down as we moved past, the ruby pulse of their fear just at the edge of my awareness.

  Yeah, I was definitely glad Lorcan had talked me into that second bag of blood. No way was I ever going to start drooling over field mice. That was the day I staked myself.

  This far from the town and away from the consequential light pollution, the stars were absolutely beautiful. They looked like diamond dust strewn across black velvet, clustering thick in some places, just a hint of a shine in others. It reminded me of so many coven meetings, where we gathered to offer prayers to the Goddess and we’d work spells under the moonlight.

  Grief hit me like a knife wound at the thought, scabbed over but still deep and sharp. Not only was this life stolen from me, but all my future lives were, too. I’d been cut off from the cycle of life. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, ever, but in this field, under the press of the starlight, eternity felt a little closer than it usually did.

  Marigold gave a soft little whicker, as if sensing my mood. She turned just far enough to lip at my shoe, and I reached forward as far as I dared to give her a scratch behind her ear. She seemed to like that so point for me.

  It was a gorgeous night. The air was cool, the insects were singing, and the breeze made the grass whisper like the tide coming in on a distant shore. The trail kept angling upwards, a gentle slope that made me shift my weight forward a little to keep from feeling like I was going to roll off Marigold’s back. When the trees finally fell away, I could see down the slope that led back towards Jinx Junction, and I caught my first view of the prison.

  The darkness of the night wasn’t much of a barrier for me any longer, but there was something hazy about the dark gray walls that surrounded the jail. It all seemed vaguely unreal, more like a heat mirage than an actual building. Was that how they kept the prison so secure? Did magic keep the whole place from being fully in the real world? I couldn’t even wrap my brain around what kinds of spells would be needed to pull off something like that, but it would certainly explain a few things.

  The whole building gave me the creeps, frankly, even from miles and miles away. It was like looking down on Mordor: nothing but shadows and despair and the distant glimmer of fire.

  Nah, it probably wasn’t fire. The prison likely had electricity, or a generator, or something. Using magic for lights would be a waste if they were already doing so much to keep their prisoners inside. But that distant flickering red light sent a chill up my spine, all the same.

  As to the prison, it was a big, sprawling complex, but not as big as I’d imagined it would be. Part of me had figured the prison would be the size of the town itself, maybe bigger. But then again, how many supernatural criminals were there that needed to be locked up in the magical version of super Max?

  I was too far away to pick up on many details, but I could make out the towers along the wall, and the central watch tower that rose above everything else. Even from all the way up the hill, I could make out the dull glimmer of the wards rippling along the walls. The sight of it all made my blood roil unpleasantly in my stomach.

  I’d never had any real plans for law breaking, but after seeing this place, and its guard of unpleasant witches, I was going to make a concentrated effort to never do anything that would land me in prison.

  Marigold kept pacing forward as I stared at the behemoth before me, but Lorcan had moved his horse just off the path and was now waiting for me to catch up. When I managed to tear my eyes away from the prison, his forehead was creased in concern as he watched me.

  “You alright, Sweetling?” His eyes searched my face. “I thought this would help you take your mind off things. Is it not working?”

  “No, no, it is.” I had to drag in a breath, mostly out of habit since I didn’t actually need the air. “It’s just, a lot, you know?”

  Lorcan’s chin dipped in a surprisingly solemn nod. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Even at this distance, it’s oppressive.”

  “That’s a good word for it,” I answered. Olesky didn’t say anything.

  Lorcan nodded. “I can’t imagine being inside it every day, even just to stand guard. There’s something off about the place—it’s as if the whole thing reeks.”

  The way his nose wrinkled up brought a ghost of a smile to my face. “I can’t smell anything but horse and leather.”

  He rolled his eyes and gave me the look my lame attempt at a joke deserved. “I didn’t mean literally, you little harridan.” Then he turned to face the monstrosity once more. “I more meant the whole place has an… an aura.”

  “An aura?” I repeated.

  He turned back to face me and nodded. “My senses for magic are nothing close to yours, of course, but even I feel it like a film of oil in my mouth.”

  Okay, gross. Not inaccurate, but gross. He was right, though. Even miles and miles away, just looking at that hulking, dark building, made me feel like everything was coated in a layer of soot that I couldn’t brush off my hands. Being locked up in there would be nightmare fuel, no matter what someone had done to deserve it.

  Would it be better or worse to work there? I mean, you got to go home every night, at least I assumed you did. I actually didn’t know that much about prison guards. Being allowed to leave would be a definite plus though, because that was the sort of place that gnawed at your soul.

  But that would also mean having to force yourself to go back there the next day. Repeatedly. On purpose. I couldn’t imagine any kind of money or perk that would convince me to do that. I guessed that was the reason for the barracks and the intense training. It sure explained a lot about the witches of Jinx Junction’s coven. No wonder they were so unfriendly—even more so than witches I’d experienced in other covens. I would have been too, if I had to marinate in the rancid vibes of the prison on a daily basis.

  Of course, my new understanding didn’t make me any more eager to spend time in their presence. The vision of Lucretia Boline hammering down on me with her killing hex flashed through my memory, and my stomach soured.

  Lorcan was still watching me, his eyes pinched. I dragged up a smile for him, but I could tell just by feeling the way my muscles pulled in my face, that it wasn’t going to be a convincing one.

  “Come on,” I said, before the worry in those green eyes could clarify into something that was going to involve talking about things I didn’t want to talk about. “Let’s finish the trail. It’s really pretty out here.”

  Lorcan stayed where he was for a long minute, and I thought he was going to call my bluff and demand I talk. His horse picked up on the tension, stomping the ground with one hoof. But then Lorcan nodded, and the moment passed. He clicked his tongue, and his horse started walking again, heading for where Oleksy was patiently waiting for us just up ahead.

  Watching Lorcan go, my stomach twisted itself into knots. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. It was relief, for sure. But also, maybe disappointment that he hadn’t pushed more. Wasn’t that stupid? Sometimes I didn’t even know what I was feeling these days. Everything was so new and different, I tried to give myself a pass.

  Marigold didn’t need any encouragement to follow after Lorcan, which was a small blessing, because I had no idea where the gas or brakes were on a horse.

  Back in Haven Hollow, there were some places that just had a certain energy. Wanda’s store, Wanda’s Witchery, where she sold enchanted clothing, was one such place. Poppy’s Potions was another. But it wasn’t just the literal magic shops that gave you that feeling either. Sweeter Haunts, the candy store where it was Halloween all year round, Stomper’s Creamery, the Half-Moon Bar and Grill, all of them had this feeling to them, like they were a little more alive than anything concrete and steel should be.

  Riding away from the hilltop over the Jinx Junction penitentiary, I had that same little shiver of awareness that made me feel like the prison was glaring at my back as I moved away from it. I knew it had to be my imagination, but I could feel the heavy weight of its malevolent gaze on me all the way along the trail, until we turned back into the woods and the forest swallowed us up again.

  Chapter Ten

  I held up the sleeve of one of my favorite shirts and squinted at it under the soft lighting of my room at The Outlaw Hotel.

  The cuff looked distinctly, well, ‘nibbled on’ was the best description that I could come up with.

  If there was one thing that Wanda had taught me, it was how to take care of my clothes. The damage wasn’t just the wear and tear of using a shirt either. The nibbling wasn’t even, for one thing. No, it looked like someone had been taking spiteful little bites out of my clothes, and the shirt sure hadn’t looked like that when I’d packed for my trip, which meant this was a recent development.

  So, who would skulk around my room, going through my things, and commit petty little acts of vandalism just to annoy me? My eyes narrowed suspiciously as they slid towards where Mocha was hovering close to the lamp on the nightstand. His little face was wrinkled up in disgust as he examined the cow hide patterned lamp shade.

  “Seriously?” I held out the shirt like an accusation, shaking it in his direction. “I dodge you for a single night to go horseback riding with Lorcan, and you decide to start taking it out on my clothes?” So, yes, apparently Mocha hadn’t returned to Faerie and had been in Jinx Junction the whole time, keeping an eye on me—he was just that good at not being detected.

  Mocha turned, his face puckered up like he’d bitten into something sour, as he dropped about an inch in the air, his wings hesitating. It was the fairy version of stumbling over his feet. “What in the realms are you talking about?”

  “My shirt.” I tossed it onto the bed, so he could clearly see the ragged edge of the cuff. “It didn’t do that to itself, did it?”

  “No, I suppose it did not.”

  “So, who might be sneaking around my stuff, taking the most passive aggressive road to expressing his displeasure?”

  Mocha sputtered, his little face flushing dark as it twisted into the most affronted expression I’d ever seen, outside of Wanda’s familiar, Hellcat. “You think I have any interest, let alone the time, to eat your clothes? Or that I would even want to?!”

  “Well, the thought crossed—”

  “—I’m not a carpet moth, for goodness sakes!”

  “Right but—”

  “—As if I’d want to give you another reason to appear to be an even bigger embarrassment to the Court.”

  Actually… that made a lot of sense. Moschata was pretty stuck up, and so rigid that if he blinked too hard, I was pretty sure he was going to sprain his knuckles. Even if he was willing to lower himself to chewing on my stuff, he wouldn’t want me appearing in ragged clothing, especially not in front of people I might need to impress at some later date.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “That’s a fair point. But if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

  He sniffed, his head craned back almost towards the ceiling so he could properly look down his nose at me. “How in the world should I know?”

  We squared off across the span of my bed, the offending shirt and my bag laid out on the comforter. I crossed my arms over my chest, hip cocked to one side, so he knew he wasn’t impressing anyone.

  “Aren’t you ‘responsible’ for me?” If anything, his expression got even sourer in the face of my sarcastic air quotes.

  “I’m not responsible for you.”

  I frowned up at him. “Well, you keep saying you’re supposed to follow me around.”

  “And I have been.”

  “Right, well, last night I snuck out with Lorcan, as you’re now aware.”

  “Your point?”

  “The point is: all you had to do was hang around here.”

  “Which is exactly what I did!”

  “And yet, you didn’t see someone entering or exiting my room?”

  Okay, yes, I was being a bit of a menace. I didn’t want to give him a reason to continue following me, but this was actually a serious problem and what good was he if he couldn’t even notice someone breaking into my room? If it had been a witch who had done the breaking and entering, it wouldn’t be a ragged seam I’d need to worry about. There were all kinds of hexes that could have been left on the shirt. Or someone could have rigged the blinds to snap open when the full force of the afternoon sun was beating through my window. Then where would I have been? A greasy smear on the sheets, that’s where.

  “Nobody came in or out.” His little jaw was so tight that each word came gritted out from between his teeth. “I can assure you.”

  I flung my arms forward, presenting my shirt like it was exhibit A. “Then who chewed on this? The invisible man?!”

  If Mocha tipped his head back any further, he was going to do a somersault in the air. The sheer waves of disdain rolling off him were impressive. Who knew so much haughtiness could fit into such a little package? He opened his mouth to say something scathing, I was absolutely sure, and then we’d have really gotten into it, but right at that moment, my bag shifted on the bed.

  Both of us froze, eyes wide as the leather twitched and shuffled. There was something in there. Something alive. What was it? And how the hell long had it been in there?

  Mocha shot upwards, hovering around the ceiling. He tucked his legs up close to his chest, like doing so would put him out of range of whatever was roaming around in my luggage.

  “What is it?” he hissed.