If looks could exsanguinate, Morgana would be a bloodless corpse splayed out on the dusty stone floors.

  “Just once,” Rook responded, sending me a quick glare before he turned his full wrath back on Morgana. “When we clear the dungeon, she’s gone.” His words came out through his teeth, harsh and ringing with cold finality.

  Morgana shrugged. “Whatever you say, Fearless Leader.”

  We could both hear the lie in her tone. Morgana wasn’t finished with me. Not by a long shot. I couldn’t decide if that should excite or scare me.

  “I just want to help,” I said to Rook quietly. “We can go back to ignoring each other when this is over, but I think Morgana is right. You need me.”

  “I don’t need anyone,” Rook spat the words, the anger in his tone only increasing when he laid his gaze on me. “I could have done this without help.”

  “And it would have taken you a million years,” Oleander pointed out. “And while you may have that time to waste, my cousin doesn’t. The longer we argue about this, the more likely it is that she’ll die out there. So, pull your head out of your ass and trust someone for once. Astrid isn’t so bad.”

  “A glowing recommendation,” I said dryly. “I really feel the love.”

  Rook stared us all down for a moment more before turning on one heel, stalking forward with stiff, jerky movements, hands balled into fists at his side.

  “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “Get off your asses and follow me. We have work to do.”

  ***

  “Hexes and hoarfrost,” I breathed, staring at the hallway beyond. The air was charged with potential violence, like lightning poised to zap whatever poor fool wandered in. “There are so many of them.”

  I could only see a few rows in, but what I could make out was frightening in its complexity. Every stone was etched with its own ward. I couldn’t puzzle out what even half of them did, let alone how to deactivate them. I wasn’t sure what I could do to help Morgana. More than likely, I’d trip one by accident and bring the headmistress and a couple of her loyalists running.

  “Auntie is the queen of overkill,” Morgana agreed. “Start anointing yourself while I work out how to undo them.”

  “Okay, and then what do I do?”

  “I’ll need you to bolster my magic,” she answered as she stood facing the wards, one hand on her cocked hip, the other tapping her mouth as her brow furrowed in thought. “I think I can unravel the wards, but my own power won’t be enough to tackle them all. That’s why I need you.”

  She looked back at me, eyebrows drawn as I took in a deep breath. “Um…” I started. “I don’t mean to be a buzzkill or anything,” I started, but she interrupted with an impatient sigh.

  “I don’t expect a total novice to go up against Aurea and win. Just feed me what you can, and I’ll handle the rest.”

  My breath came out in a relieved gust. Being a magical battery was an easier job than plucking at the threads of a centuries-old High Witch. With my luck, I’d bungle the first ward I came across and botch the whole operation. If the headmistress even guessed what we were up to, I’d be kicked through the nearest mirror and barred from ever returning.

  I pulled a chain of crystals and draped them over my neck. Their points tickled my skin as they settled against my throat. I’d tied them together, forming a necklace of sorts. It beat tucking them all into my bra or something. Poppy’s magic buzzed over my skin, as bubbly and warm as the gypsy it had come from. It was like getting a squeeze from the woman herself, and I couldn’t help a smile. The oils went on next. Dragon Shield Oil for protection against physical, mental, and emotional attacks. Durga Oil for protection against all harm. Good Luck Oil for luck in psychic endeavors. Energy Oil to increase endurance.

  By the time I was finished, I was a mélange of conflicting scents. It was so reminiscent of Poppy’s shop that it made my chest ache. At a time like this, I missed home, and I suddenly wished Wanda was here. She’d be more help to Morgana than I could ever hope to be. Then again, if Wanda was here, she’d probably be ordering me back to my room and away from danger. So maybe it was better she was completely in the dark about my current predicament.

  “That’s potent stuff,” Morgana noted when I pressed my hand between her shoulder blades. “Did you make them?”

  “Some of them,” I said. “Though Poppy brewed most of my stock. She’s a member of Scapegrace… my coven.”

  I left out the fact that Poppy was only an honorary witch and that she was a gypsy, mortal and much younger than any of them. Poppy had gotten a boost from the ritual that had bound us together into a coven, so she was more magically capable now, but she was still mostly human. Mentioning that though would only muddy the waters and cast the efficacy of the potions into doubt. With the weight of Oleander’s nerves and Rook’s scorn on my back, I didn’t dare rock the boat.

  “Alright,” Morgana said, eyes sliding closed. She cupped her hands in the air over the first brick. “Let’s do this.”

  The air was still as she worked, unraveling the first row of wards with painstaking care. Then came the next, and the next, until we were enveloped by darkness. Morgana didn’t begin to siphon my magic until she’d reached the sixth. Even then, it was barely a trickle. But as time wore on and we inched closer to our destination, she leaned more heavily against me, scooping my magic in her metaphorical hands before throwing it into the complex spells she was working. I had to fight the impulse to slap her away from my magic every time it happened. It felt wrong to have someone’s hands inside my essence, manipulating the fundamental force that made me a witch. My nose was scrunched, constantly in danger of a loud and distracting sneeze. It was the tradeoff for casting the way I did, though the dust in this place wasn’t helping.

  “Are you... wiggling your nose?” Rook asked.

  “Yes,” I said, wincing as Morgana put her psychic mitts on me again.

  “Like Samantha from Bewitched?” he asked incredulously.

  “So what?”

  “So… isn’t that a bit on the... ah... nose?” he chuckled.

  “You don’t see me criticizing you, jerk,” I muttered. “This is how I cast. Get over it.”

  “It’s really cute,” Oleander said, voice filled with barely suppressed laughter.

  “Neither one of you is helping,” I said.

  “Yeah, put a lid on it,” Morgana snapped at them both. “It’s not like we’re trying to undo major magic here or anything.”

  We made it halfway down the hallway before it happened. Morgana raked too forcefully against my power, and something just... snapped. One moment she was handling my magic, and the next, something large and furred was rubbing along my insides, batting furiously at the invader. Light burst like tiny suns behind my eyes, blinding me for a few precious seconds. Power scalded my skin, etching glowing, ethereal lines along my arms, burning red-gold like lightning flowers for an instant. Then they, and the shape were gone, leaving me spitting leaves and blinking shining dust out of my eyes.

  I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until I let it out in a gasp.

  Morgana was staring up at me, face blank with shock. She didn’t seem aware that she was clutching a patch of red-brown fur in one hand. It trickled through her fingers and onto the stones below. I almost cried out a warning but... there was nothing there. Not on the stones at her feet. Not anywhere I could see. As far as our light extended, the pathway was clear.

  “What in Goddess’ name was that?” Morgana breathed, looking me up and down.

  I shuffled from foot to foot self-consciously, very aware of the fact that I’d just plastered myself and a good portion of the hall in curling leaves and faerie dust. What a mess. Even if we got through this, we’d have to erase the evidence before leaving.

  “It was magic,” Rook drawled. “Or don’t you recognize it when you see it, Grimsbane?”

  “Stick a stake up your ass,” Morgana snapped before turning back to face me, even though she was still talking to him. “That wasn’t ordinary witch magic, and you damn well know it. You’ve been around enough of us to know what we’re capable of.”

  “It was faerie magic,” Oleander said in a hushed whisper. He was regarding me with a degree of awe that made me distinctly uncomfortable. His tone took on a slightly accusatory tone when he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were part Fae?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe because I didn’t know until this morning? The only hint I’ve had that I was anything other than an ordinary witch is a touch of zoolingualism that began months back.”

  “And?” Oleander asked.

  I shrugged again. “Zoolingualism could have meant anything. A witch mating with a shifter or a sasquatch could have resulted with a strong tie to nature, as well. It’s not like witches go around knowing their dads.”

  Though the memory dredged up by the song had given me the name, Fennec. More than that, it had shown me that my mother’s relationship with my father had been a lot more serious than I could have believed. She’d been with him long enough to have two kids, and he’d been angling for a third. She’d seemed genuinely upset that they couldn’t be together. And from what I could tell, he’d wanted to stay with her, to raise Maverick and me, to keep us safe. He’d said he loved me. Part of me resented that I hadn’t grown up knowing him.

  But I’d have to wait to indulge my hurt feelings. This wasn’t the time or place to ask if Oleander knew anything about my dad. Odds were, I’d get a blank look or a lecture about how not all Fae knew each other by name or sight. We had a mystery to solve, and fewer wards to tackle than before and at the moment, that was all that mattered.

  “It wasn’t just faerie magic,” Morgana said, eyes round as she fixed them on me. “It was powerful faerie magic. I tapped into that magic by accident, and it overloaded about six feet of Aurea’s best wards. Granted, I’d have just deactivated them, rather than obliterating them. I’ll have to set them up again later but...” She turned her gaze to Rook, raising her chin defiantly. “You’re overruled, Chesley. She stays.”

  “Morgana,” he started, but she shook her head, interrupting him.

  “This should have taken hours. With Astrid’s assistance, it only took fifteen minutes. Deal with your personal issues on your own time. I need her help. End of story.”

  “It’s Rook,” he corrected her, a sullen edge of defeat in his voice. It was three against one and he knew it.

  I’d be joining the Scooby Gang after all. Zoinks!

  “Whatever,” Morgana said, dusting her knees off as she rose to her feet. “If we can do a repeat performance on the rest of the hall, we should be able to—”

  Morgana cut off abruptly, sucking in a sharp breath. A moment later, I understood why. The air had lightened to a dull gray ahead, growing brighter as a light grew closer to the end of the hall. Snippets of conversation echoed off the stone walls.

  “We can’t keep it from them forever,” a familiar voice said in an undertone.

  It took me a moment to place the stern alto, but when I did, my heart lurched before resuming double time. How could I mistake it for anyone else? I started my early mornings listening to Professor Hecate lecture. The voice that answered was just as familiar, and instantly set my teeth on edge. It was a touch nasal, and edged with cruelty, even at rest.

  “You’ll keep your mouth shut for as long as it takes, Hecate,” Vivian said. “Mother wants it taken care of as quickly as possible. I don’t care what you have to do, but make sure this doesn’t surface. It will be a disaster if it gets out.”

  There was a wealth of information in those sentences, but we didn’t have time to sit down and examine them. If we didn’t get out of here, this was going to end badly for all of us. Morgana and Rook would probably be locked in their rooms without escape for the next century or so. Oleander and I would be expelled, if we were lucky. Or maybe we’d just disappear, like the unlucky faeries. It was clear that the headmistress was more involved in this than she wanted anyone to believe.

  We turned back the way we’d come. Maybe if we were swift and silent, we’d be able to get out without being caught. Yes, they’d realize someone was onto them, but they wouldn’t know precisely who. As far as I knew, I was the only Autumn faerie with any level of power here, so they’d be completely in the dark about who was responsible.

  It was a good plan. Which was why my stupid, clumsy feet had to screw it all up. My boot heel caught on an upturned stone, and I tipped backward with a soft cry of fright. In a split second, Rook scooped me out of the air, hugging me to his chest before I could smack into the floor and drive all the air from my lungs. He was probably the only one who could see me properly in the gloom. Oleander and Rook had extinguished their lights the moment they’d heard the witches approach. If Rook hadn’t caught me, I probably would have bowled over Morgana and Oleander, reducing their chance of escape as well.

  “Of course, Vivian but—” Professor Hecate paused then asked, “Did you hear that?”

  “Dragon balls!” Morgana hissed.

  “What do we do?” Oleander all but whimpered. “If we’re caught—”

  “We won’t be caught,” Rook hissed back. “There’s a supply closet ahead. If we can reach it before they turn the corner, we can hide.”

  As if they wouldn’t think to look there, eventually. Vivian and the professor knew there was someone lurking nearby. But a plan was better than no plan, right? The light was coming closer, and I doubted we could make it inside the supply closet without being seen. So, how would we explain all four of us being out past curfew, in a portion of the castle that was never meant to be seen by regular students?

  A plan began to coalesce in my head, but we’d have to reach the closet for it to work. I needed some place where Oleander and Morgana could lurk unseen, and the closet was our only option. If the professor and Vivian saw all four of us, we were done for. If I could make sure only Rook and I were caught, there was a chance I could make it work. I tightened my grip on my fellow schemers, willing myself to move toward the closet so swiftly and silently that we’d go unnoticed.

  Fresh stars burst behind my eyes, leaving me blinking red and gold sparks from my vision a moment later. I tasted apples and honeyed mead, felt cold tickle the edge of my nose, and felt fresh leaves crunching under my boots. I tried to move and gasped in fright when something hit me upside the head. I batted it away and felt the familiar contours of a broom handle. When I held a hand out, feeling through the room, I found shelves. When I inhaled deeply, I smelled heavy-duty cleaner.

  There was a moment of stunned silence as we got our bearings, but it was Oleander who said aloud what we were all thinking.

  “Oh, Gods,” he said. He was breathing hard and fast. “Oh, Gods, we’re in the closet! Astrid, you’re...”

  “It doesn’t matter what I am,” I whispered. “You and Morgana find a dark corner and hide in it. Rook and I will distract them.”

  “We will?” Rook asked, and I could almost picture the arrogant quirk of his eyebrow. Jerk. Hot, stupid, undead jerk. “I don’t think there’s anything we can say or do that will stop them from poking their nose into this further.”

  “Oh, yes, there is,” I said, splaying my hands on his chest, pushing him backward until he hit a wall. He let out a hiss of surprise when I pressed myself flush against him. I reached down and took his hands, guiding them to rest very firmly on my waist. He seemed to get it a moment later.

  “Astrid... you don’t have to...”

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “And don’t bite me.”

  Then I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rook’s lips were warmer than I expected.

  He must have fed earlier in the evening. It might have been the reason he was late to our meeting. I imagined it was a hassle to get someone into his room long enough to feed with witches watching his every move. I couldn’t tell if his lips were warmer than the last time I’d felt them. Our first kiss had been over too quickly, and I’d been preoccupied by the slide of his tongue over my bottom lip.

  To his credit, Rook recovered in seconds. One of his hands released my waist, trailing up my side, copping a feel before he reached my hair. He seemed a little disappointed to find it was pulled into a braid, instead of loose around my shoulders. He made do though, fisting the braid in one hand, pulling my head up to angle the kiss in his favor. That rankled a bit. Witches didn’t give up control. But when he pulled my hair, sending prickles of mixed pain and pleasure across my scalp, I couldn’t help a small moan.

  His other hand disappeared under my sweater, trailing his fingers lightly over my sensitized skin. A pang of self-consciousness almost pulled me out of the moment. I’d grown up entrenched in witch culture, which glorified the softness that came from childbearing. Curves, fuller figures, and the marks that came with them were lauded. Spending my junior and senior year in a mundane high school had scrubbed away some of my confidence in the ideal I’d grown up with. I wasn’t as fulsome as Wanda, but not as slender and ethereal as Taliyah. I had the awful feeling that maybe Rook would find my body repulsive and drop his hands the moment the ruse wasn’t necessary.

  Almost in response, his hand mapped my stomach, traced my ribs, then caressed the underside of one bra-covered breast. I shivered, sucking in a shocked breath, and he pressed his advantage. He touched me. Tasted me. And I tasted him. There wasn’t the aftertaste of blood as I’d feared and expected. Instead, he tasted like... well, he tasted like the green apple bubble gum I used to buy in bulk at Sweeter Haunts around Halloween.

  The flavor was so nostalgic that my eyes pricked with tears. He tasted like home. Home in Haven Hollow. My home, in autumn, when the leaves were everywhere and the cold bit at my skin. A season of warm embraces and days under the blankets with someone you loved. I didn’t love Rook, but with my eyes closed, I could pretend this was more than a diversion. With his hands on me, tongue tangling eagerly with mine, I could pretend for just a second that he wanted me. That maybe, just maybe, I haunted his nights with fantasies just like this one. It made me forget myself and allowed me to shove my hands under his shirt without shame to explore his lean frame.