Gingerly, I touched my face and hissed lightly at the prickles of pain that were still traveling across my shoulders. Great. It was going to be really hard to hide any damage they had managed to do, since it was, you know, my face. That was a really bold, personal attack for not much offense. The fact that they’d come right out of the gate with such an attack was worrying. But then, why wouldn’t they attack me? I was just Aster Dwimmer, not Astrid Depraysie. Right—I was just a new vampire without a family name, a coven, and I certainly wasn’t the heir to a Faerie court. Why wouldn’t they use me for target practice?

  A lump formed in my throat. It hurt to swallow around it. I knew witches could be, well, awful. I’d seen how the covens treated my brother, whose only crime was being born the wrong gender. Or Wanda, who’d only survived her accident because of Lorcan’s intervention. And what Aunt Celestine had done to her own sons…

  I shuddered, feeling the memory of phantom ropes around my wrists. If I closed my eyes, I knew I’d see the moment that mad vampire had torn into Maverick, who’d been trying to shield me. Both of us had been offered up to a war criminal to remove our ‘undesirable traits’ from the coven. To be turned, stripped of our power and our connection to the Goddess.

  But we’d gotten away. Our real coven, Scapegrace, had come for us, saved us.

  Well, at least that day I’d been saved. But, truly, I’d just gotten a delayed execution.

  I wanted to go home, but it was feeling more and more like home wasn’t the home it had used to be. Now ‘home’ felt like it could be three places and no places, all at the same time. Back in Haven Hollow, with my coven? At Blood Rose, with a sire who treated me like I was a delicate infant? Or in the Autumn Court, where my uncle was training me to rule, but refused to share any information with me or even explain what he was doing half the time.

  It wasn’t fair.

  I let my head thump back against the tree once, twice, and one more time. Then I sighed and opened my eyes. The moon couldn’t get through the canopy this far into the woods, but I could still see just fine. My enhanced night vision was probably the greatest thing about being a vampire—maybe tied with my speed and strength. Regardless, it was nice to be out here in nature. It wasn’t as soothing as the trail ride had been, with Oleksy’s aura of chill vibes along with us, but it was still nice.

  At least it wasn’t very likely that the witch posse would chase me all the way out here. Arrogant or not, chasing a vampire out into the dark woods was what was commonly referred to as a bad idea. And it was probably too much effort. They’d likely been on their way to the local watering hole, looking to relax after a long shift. Going after me would be way too much effort for their little game.

  But I also wasn’t in a hurry to head back to town. It was still early, and I’d already seen most of everything Jinx Junction had to offer the first night I’d arrived. Not to mention that the threat of getting hexed wasn’t worth window shopping—where I’d only end up getting chased out of any interesting stores, anyway.

  I pushed off against the tree with my shoulders and headed a little deeper into the forest. It was times like this, walking through the quiet woods, that I could almost forget that everything had changed forever. It felt like I could close my eyes, reach out with my magic, and brush up against the edge of the Goddess, of all life in the world. I could remember how it felt, sensing all the green growing things, feeling the insects and worms churning the earth beneath my feet, watching life slip up the trunks of the trees and burst into green and gold magnificence along their boughs.

  There were still hints. I wasn’t completely severed from magic, thanks to my Fae ancestry. Without that, well, I didn’t even know what I’d do. But it wasn’t the same. For one thing, the bright lush feeling of summer wasn’t something that called to me any longer. Now, I was all about crisp apples and a biting chill in the air. About pumpkins and caramel sweetness, and brilliant gold, orange, and red leaves.

  The woods around me didn’t call to me like they’d used to. But they were still pretty.

  Also, not full of witches. That was a pretty big bonus.

  So, I walked. To me, the moonlight was as bright as day had been once upon a time. It was easy to pick my way silently through the trees, avoiding stepping on branches or anything that might disturb the birds in the trees and the little furry creatures napping in their burrows. I could hear the faint ruby pulse of their sleeping hearts. They were a lot faster than larger animals, almost a fluttering, like moth’s wings.

  I wondered if it was possible to tell people apart by their pulse. Did different hearts sound different? I hadn’t really been paying enough attention to that. Mostly I tried to ignore them, and the soft shush of blood rushing through a vein, because it made my jaw ache and my stomach cramp. Bagged blood was great, but fresh from the source was a whole other ball game.

  These were the kind of questions I should have been able to ask my sire. Too bad my original sire was a murderous douche, and my replacement sire would have rather wrapped me in cotton wool and stashed me in a remote tower somewhere.

  Lorcan would answer any questions I had, though. Maybe I’d catch him when he was done with work, and I could ask him all the stupid questions that had and were flitting through my brain. Maybe we could watch dumb vampire movies and we could laugh as he pointed out all the things the mundanes had wrong. That could actually be fun.

  It was the quiet that tipped me off that something was wrong. The crickets suddenly went silent. Not just silent, but missing. Even when they weren’t singing, I should have been able to hear the movement of tiny feet, antenna waving in the soil and leaf litter. But there was nothing. No birds, no bugs. The woods had gone silent, and in my experience, that was a universally bad thing.

  The second thing that hit me was the smell.

  That had been a big thing to get used to. Witches, like humans, relied on their primary sense of sight, followed by hearing, with smell and taste distant thirds. But to a vampire, the world was alive with scents that I worked hard to block out. It could just be so much information, and my brain wasn’t quite used to processing what that information meant. Not to mention, other than general hygiene, perfume or cologne, people didn’t much pay attention to smells.

  The smell that reached me was… cold. It reminded me almost of wintergreen, but only the tingling chill of it, not the mint. It smelled the way licking an icicle felt. And underneath that scent was wet earth and rot.

  Not a great combination. Part of it smelled like the time when Wanda had raised Libby accidentally from the dead, before Poppy had cobbled together a potion to keep the zombie from rotting. She’d smelled like grave dirt and decay, after it had been in a freezer.

  I knew I should have gone back. Return to the room, get Lorcan, or even Moschata. Checking out weird things in the woods was how everyone in horror movies got eaten by the big bad. But I was in no way confident that I could find one patch of trees out of the entire forest again, even if I tried. And, also, if we were talking horror movies, I was the big bad. I wasn’t some mundane sorority sister. I was Astrid Depraysie, and I’d faced down things that would have sent other people screaming before I’d ever reached eighteen.

  So, I moved forward, prowling as only the undead can, following that scent of dying leaves and soggy ground. Nothing out here should have been wet. It hadn’t rained in a very long time, way way before I’d arrived in town, judging by the dusty state of Jinx Junction. Every bit of moisture should have withered away a long time ago, leaving nothing but a dry, dust barrel. So, where was the smell coming from?

  I felt a bit like a bloodhound, with my nose in the air as I trailed along after the strange scent. It didn’t take long to stumble into a small clearing in the woods, where my foot slid on wet leaves, and the smell of rotting and rich earth filled my head.

  It was the middle of summer, and the rest of the woods were crowned in leaves that were green, the edges seared gold by the sun’s heat. But in this clearing, the leaves were brown and withered, most of them lying on the dirt. Even the bark was wet, with patches of soggy moss dotting the trunks. It was such a distinct change in scenery, it was like someone had taken a cookie cutter out of an Autumn forest and dumped it right here at the edge of town.

  Were the trees somehow sick? I ran my fingers along one trunk, and my hand came back with frigid water clinging to it. Not wanting tree cooties (if that was even a thing), I scrubbed my palm against the leg of my pants, and paced around the edge of the clearing. The line of difference between bright green summer and soggy fall was so distinct, it was almost perfectly circular. Was it a faerie ring? There was still a tingle of something in the air. I could feel it prickling against the roof of my mouth, crisp and clean. But as far as I’d seen, there weren’t a lot of Fae in Jinx Junction.

  Unless this was something Uncle Fox had set up, intending for me to stumble on it? But, no, this didn’t feel like Autumn magic. Not quite. Maybe Jenny Greenteeth had done something to it? But her magic was based in water, that was why she used the well and needed to be close to it. Why come out to the middle of a drought struck forest? It didn’t add up.

  Or maybe, it was just some kind of tree flu and I was looking way too far into things. Still, something was nagging at me. Something didn’t smell right. I took a deep breath, and reached out with the part of me that was High Sidhe, opening my senses to the forest.

  Everything was muted, distant. This wasn’t my time, it wasn’t my season. Everything was meant to stay in its place. But the discordant feeling got stronger, like hearing one note out of tune in a symphony—that’s how it grated on my ears. Something here wasn’t right. It was out of place, out of time.

  It was also fading quickly, the magic sputtering out. Until all that was left was a lingering sense of wrongness that made me shift my feet uneasily.

  Mocha would probably know more about whatever the heck this mess was, but the idea of having to go and ask him, and then having to deal with his insufferable know-it-all attitude, made my nose wrinkle with distaste. I was probably overthinking things, anyway. Maybe it was something the local coven had done to this part of the forest? Some ritual. It didn’t feel like witch magic, but it could have just been some little blip of nature magic.

  What would I say, anyway? “Hey, Mocha, I found a slightly damp patch in the woods—what do you think it was?” Yeah, I could imagine the look that would get me. There wasn’t even anything scary or suspicious here to report back: no glyphs, or bloody altar and no knife. No mysterious hook wedged into a tree trunk.

  Honestly, the creepiest part about the clearing was more what wasn’t there than what was. Not a single bug or bird that I could see. The crickets were silent in the clearing, and when I ruffled up the wet, brown leaves with the toe of my sneaker, there weren’t any worms, or beetles, or pill bugs that I could find.

  Fae magic didn’t usually leave dead zones. Faerie magic was the magic of nature, of life, and the turning of the seasons.

  This was just messed up.

  I still wasn’t likely to be able to find this exact spot again, unless I crawled through the woods, sniffing away. The mental image of me trying to lead Uncle Fox back here, while sniffing leaves and tree bark like I was a bloodhound, was so absolutely cringe-inducing that I had to slap a hand over my face.

  Yeah, hard pass.

  It was probably nothing, anyway.

  And if the woods suddenly felt a little chilly, like the shadows were pressing in close to hang off my shoulders, then it was probably just my imagination. And a good hint that it was time to get myself back to town.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was embarrassing as heck, because here I was—a vampire, an apex predator, but I lingered at the edge of the tree line so I could scan what parts of town I could see, just to make sure there weren’t any packs of witches looking for a fight.

  Anger churned with anxiety in my stomach, making me feel vaguely ill. This sucked. I didn’t want to cower, or be scared, but I had to be—it was the smart thing to do. Standing up for myself meant picking a fight with basically all of Jinx Junction and its trigger-happy dark witches. I also didn’t have the protection of my own name, any titles I might or might not have, or even my own coven to back me up. I knew he had his reasons, but a little thread of resentment wound through my chest at the thought that Uncle Fox had knowingly sent me into the lion’s den with both my arms tied behind my back.

  He wouldn’t have done it unless you could handle it, I thought to myself and hoped I was right.

  I sucked in a deep breath, held it for a count of eight, and let it out slowly as I tried to exhale my frustration along with it. I trusted Uncle Fox. As much as it drove me up the wall that he was literally keeping all his cards close to his chest and not telling me anything, I was trying to cling to the belief that he had his reasons. That his reasons were other than his just being a High Sidhe, who were almost incapable of giving a straight answer to literally anything.

  When my annoyance had faded to a background buzz in my skull like a disturbed wasp’s nest, I slunk out of the woods and headed back into town, thinking that if Uncle Fox was still around, maybe I could demand answers from him. Or, at the very least, maybe he’d be willing to tell me what business he had with Cattleya—what she’d told him.

  It was late enough that the sickle of the moon was almost directly overhead, silver light streaming down. My shadow clung close to my feet, short and squat, as I picked my way along the wooden walkways. I felt more on edge walking down a town street than I had alone in the dark woods, and if that wasn’t a statement of immense proportion, I didn’t know what was.

  In this Hollow, which was mainly home to witches, things tended to get quieter at night—something I found odd since much of witch magic circled around the moon—especially dark witch magic. Still, lots of the shops were closed by this point, and fewer people were lingering in the streets. I had to wonder if this was just another way to stick it to their vampire enemies—make sure everything closed by the time the sun went down. Probably so.

  The bar I’d stumbled into the first night I’d arrived in town was one of the few exceptions, with golden light and loud music pouring out the doors, accompanied by loud voices and laughter. Witches blowing off steam after a long day, but after my last visit there, I wouldn’t have gone back inside if someone paid me.

  Just the thought of running into Sheriff Boline again had me scowling. She’d been ready to draw down on me for just talking to her daughter and that told me that it wouldn’t have taken much for the vision I’d seen in the well water to come true, and I’d just as soon avoid it.

  At least the town wasn’t on fire… yet. I mean, no ashes were raining down from the sky that I could see. Unless that whole bit was supposed to be symbolic. If the stupid vision was actually even representative of the future.

  Probably best to just keep avoiding Lucretia Boline. For a lot of reasons.

  Nothing was open and there was no one to talk to, so I guessed I’d just go back to the hotel and sit in my room, wishing I were anywhere but here. Maybe I’d see what Lorcan was up to. Or maybe I’d read a book. Or, more likely, listen to Mocha and Yew complain at me until I was ready to smother myself with a pillow just so I wouldn’t hear them anymore.

  Yay.

  The idea of sealing myself away inside the kitschy boutique hotel with nothing to do sounded awesome and all, but there was still something restless and unsettled in my chest. And the bummer of it was that I had no idea where the anxious feelings were coming from—was it fae stuff? Or maybe it was vampire stuff, and I just didn’t know it, because my dumb adopted sire would barely talk to me because he thought I needed time to ‘adjust’ to being undead? Like he never considered that having information to make informed choices was too much for my little brain to handle, or something.

  Men.

  I leaned back against the wall of the closest building and slid my phone out of my pocket. I might still be mad at him, and frustrated to the edge of the universe and back, but part of me really, really wanted to call Rook. Just, hearing his voice would… well, I was pretty sure it would help me. Maybe I could ask him about some things, like how to stop finding people’s pulses so distracting. Or even just talk about nothing important. I could picture the little wrinkle he got between his eyebrows whenever I said something he hadn’t expected, and it was almost enough to drag a smile onto my face.

  Almost.

  My finger hovered over his name in my contact list, but I hesitated. He was all the way out at Blood Rose Academy still, and I was very much not. A quick calculation of time zones, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket with a sigh. It was daytime for Rook, and he was probably sleeping. I wasn’t going to wake him up just so I could get a pep talk and hear him complain about me taking the risks I was. That would just prove to him that I needed to be babied. Not to mention that I was sure this wasn’t easy on him—being my sire and not having me close to him. Rook couldn’t leave Blood Rose, owing to the fact that he was a prisoner there—a chess piece to ensure another Blood War wouldn’t be kicked off.

  I let my head fall back against the wall, and just barely resisted the urge to thump my skull against the wood a couple times. When had everything become so complicated? Oh, right, when a blood drinking megalomaniac recruited me into his spite army.

  Although, really, my life had been in upheaval since the day I’d gotten kicked out of Crescent Circle Coven, for the crime of being a red-headed witch, and for questioning Aunt Celestine’s decision to banish Wanda.