I continued to stare at the wall, which was quickly becoming very boring to look at. “Because if I allow myself to view you in only your bra and underwear, I won’t be able to control myself which means I’ll take you to the queen size bed in the corner of the room and immediately begin enacting one of my various fantasies with you.”

  She was quiet, and I wondered if I’d said too much. We hadn’t made many promises to each other. Technically, I could still have a girlfriend if I wanted one, and she was free to date anyone she damn well pleased. The thing was, I didn’t want anyone else, even to take the edge off. And Tally didn’t seem to be dating either, so maybe she felt the same. Then again, what did I really know about women? I’d misread them before, interpreting Wanda’s lack of cruelty in the beginning as desire. I was a terrible judge of character. Maybe Taliyah just felt obligated. One thing I knew for sure—I wasn’t going to put myself out there only to have my blackened heart crushed again.

  “Maverick,” she repeated, voice soft.

  I jumped when her arms wound around my waist. I’d been too lost in my own thoughts to hear her approach. She pressed her face between my shoulder blades and for the second time in one evening, I had a beautiful woman pressing her curvy body against my back. Except this time the woman in question was only half-dressed, and I was wearing a thin shirt and boxers.

  You would have thought a winter princess would be cold, but Tally was lush warmth, a drop of winter sunshine that warmed my whole body. I let out a shuddering breath when she ran her fingers lightly along my arms, pausing over each indent in my skin. The impressions of Janeth’s teeth were still visible. They’d fade into white scar tissue eventually, but they’d never fade entirely.

  “Tally.”

  “You’re frightened,” she whispered. “And I’m not trying to hurt your pride by saying that. I’d question your sanity if you weren’t scared. We’re in the middle of vampire central and you have a right to be afraid. Just don’t isolate yourself, okay? It’s what I’m here for. To help.” She paused, but I didn’t say anything. There was really nothing to say.

  “Mav, come to bed when you’re ready.”

  I rested my hands lightly on hers, giving them a squeeze. “I will.”

  Taliyah stepped away from me a moment later, and I felt colder for the loss. She finished dressing, then perched on the end of our shared bed, tugging her knees up to her chest. She was wearing an overlarge Portland Police Department t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. Cold didn’t bother her much now that she’d assumed full faerie form.

  I should have moved to the desk at the opposite end of the room and begun poring over the lesson plans. Teaching a room full of contrary witches on how to brew properly was going to be difficult enough without a lesson plan. But I didn’t move toward the desk. I couldn’t shove thoughts of Astrid away long enough to focus.

  “Did you see the way Vivian reacted when I mentioned her name?” Tally asked.

  I didn’t have to ask who she meant. There was only one ‘her’ that mattered at the moment.

  “I did,” I said.

  “That girl should never go to Vegas. She has no poker face,” Tally laughed.

  I nodded. “There’s definitely something going on here.”

  Tally looked at me. “Focus on Vivian when you’re in class. Put her in the hot seat. Frustrated subjects always spill more than they mean to.”

  I smiled faintly. “It’s sexy when you use cop-speak.”

  Taliyah rolled her eyes. “You’d think it would be sexy if I read the ingredients off a cereal box.”

  “Only if you use your cop voice.”

  A faint smile tugged up the corners of her lips. “And only if you stop using your Jersey voice.”

  “Not sexy?” I asked, with as much Jersey as I could manage.

  “No, not sexy,” she answered on a laugh. “When it’s just the two of us, I want Maverick back.”

  I nodded, loving the words.

  Then the amusement in her eyes dimmed, and I felt the momentary spark of happiness in my chest gutter out. We both knew why I was teasing her. I didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Astrid. Cold fear had begun to sink its claws into my chest. Now that we were here, it felt too real. Even if Astrid was still somewhere in this castle, there was no telling what state she’d be in.

  “The Grimsbane girl is scared of you,” Taliyah continued, glossing over the poignant moment of silence.

  “No, she’s not,” I snorted. “She’s the daughter of a High Witch and probably runs half the school’s cliques—not to mention that just by the fact that she was there when we came through the mirror—clearly, her mother is priming her to take over as headmistress eventually. She’s got nothing to be afraid of.”

  Taliyah raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you really think so? Because from her perspective, you shredded her mother’s little mirror trick like it was newspaper.”

  My mouth curled into an unwilling smile. “Intimidating, eh?” Then I decided I really didn’t want to talk or think about Vivian or her mother. “Do I ever intimidate you?”

  Taliyah rolled her eyes again. “I’m not easy to spook. And besides, I know how mopey you can get.”

  “Mopey?” I scoffed.

  “You forget what you’re like when you’re drunk,” she laughed.

  We were silent for a long moment and then I asked, “Do you really think she’s afraid of me?”

  “Definitely. That’s not to say she’s going to avoid you. She strikes me as the type to destroy whatever is scaring her, so keep on your toes. I think if you keep up the pressure, she’ll spill something vital.”

  “And what will you be doing while I’m playing bad cop?”

  “Wandering the castle. Someone will warn me away from restricted areas, which will give us an idea of where to start our search. If someone captured Astrid, they’ll keep her somewhere secluded. Isis could cover the grounds if you think you can manage class without her.”

  “I can.”

  Maybe the self-assuredness came off as arrogance, but to me, it was just a matter of fact. Potions had always been my best bloody subject, and I’d outstripped Wanda in it before I’d even turned sixteen. I could even outbrew the admittedly talented gypsy, but Wanda kept buying from Poppy because my prices were steeper. Cheapskate. Regardless, I didn’t need Isis to babysit me during potions. Wanda needed an armed guard the next time she tried, so she didn’t summon a creature from another dimension. She was really that bad at it.

  “So it’s settled then. We have a plan.” Tally patted the space next to her. “Come to bed.”

  “The lesson plans—”

  “Can wait until morning. I’ll set an alarm and you can read them over before class. Now, you need your sleep, Mav.”

  I scowled, but she was right. I needed to be prepared for the coming day.

  Taliyah laid down, stretching her long legs, settling into a position she probably didn’t intend to be distracting, but it was. Very much so. There was no one else I trusted more to help me than Tally, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t damn distracting. I shuffled over to the bed and climbed in beside her when she beckoned me forward. It didn’t take me long to become the stereotypical husband, unable to argue with her. Me from last year would have found it pathetic.

  I draped the covers over us, and she snuggled into me. I held her more tightly than I needed to. I couldn’t have done this with anyone else and, truly, there was no one I’d want to hold so close, aside from Astrid. For so long, I was an island with a single constant companion and only one person I could trust. Now I had two. No matter what we were to each other, I knew I could count on Tally.

  I buried my face in the silvery fall of her hair. She smelled like snow, crisp air, and fresh rain. Hell, she was winter distilled. It was hard to describe her scent. Nothing quite fit because it was everything at once, anything I’d ever associated with the season. Crisp snow, pine, chestnuts. Hot chocolate, cinnamon, and coffee. Darla’s cigarettes when she smoked on the porch. The burning Yule log in the grate. Mead. The faint smell of lanolin from the wool scarf Astrid had given to me at Yule.

  Taliyah smelled like home, and only that let me relax against her and begin to drift into sleep. Her hands settled over mine, dainty and warm.

  “We’ll find her,” she said, voice thick with sleep.

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, without telling her a lie. I wished I could believe her words were true, but I was worried we were fighting a losing battle.

  Here was hoping I was wrong, just this once.

  Chapter Four

  Maverick

  It was official.

  I hated teaching witches.

  Not that it came as much of a surprise to anyone, including me. Witches only took men seriously if they’d proven themselves to be worthy of notice. That notice usually came in the form of curiosity or desire, when a witch got bored or amorous and decided to find a mortal to cavort with for a while. The only male professors these women had were faeries, and therefore neutral, not sexual objects but powerful enough to be regarded with a little respect. As a warlock, I deserved neither sexual admiration nor respect.

  The faerie, shifter, and celestial students were another story entirely. Most were attentive, and a few were even speculative. A Winter Sidhe girl gave me appraising looks all through first period. Ordinarily, I’d have enjoyed the spell out of that. Not now though. Eira looked like she could be Tally’s daughter, which was disturbing. It made me feel vaguely dirty to have her eyes roving over my body.

  By third period, I was ready to be done with this entire farce. That, or to hex every one of the little witches to sit up and pay attention. One of Astrid’s static shock hexes might have done the trick. It would only ruin their hair but that would be enough—pissing them off by ruining their perfectly styled waves would be gratifying. And at least they’d be paying attention.

  There was at least one witch paying attention to me. Vivian sat as far back as she could, back glued to the wall so she was out of arm’s reach. Taliyah was right. I did unnerve Ms. Grimsbane. Her eyes kept darting toward me and quickly away again. Her hangers-on kept leaning over to whisper in her ear, and she’d only give them short, tight-lipped replies, her attention on me the entire time.

  “According to the lessons that were passed on to me,” I started, “you’ll be having a lesson with Professor Lavant later in the day. You’ll be learning to ward off psychic attacks in the latter half of this term. To that end, you’ll be brewing Protection Oil today. If you’ve been reading your texts, you should know the ingredients necessary to make this potion. Can anyone tell me what’s required?”

  Several hands shot up. Eira actually pushed off the surface of her chair, trying to raise her hand the highest. I ignored it and her, shifting my gaze back to Vivian. She was talking to her neighbor once again. The girl in question was shorter with an inky bob and fine-boned features. She might have been pretty, if not for the sneer twisting her features.

  “Ms. Grimsbane,” I called, feeling the odd urge to laugh when Eira wilted in her seat, but I managed not to—keeping most of my attention on Vivian.

  Vivian’s spine went ramrod straight. Her hands were clenched into fists on her lap, her knuckles going white as she squeezed them tight.

  “Professor?” she acknowledged. Her voice came out through her teeth, so strained I was surprised something didn’t snap. I could tell using the title hurt her pride. I was practically swimming in schadenfreude.

  “Since you seem engrossed in other topics,” I continued. “I’ll assume you did a thorough reading before class. So, please list the ingredients for the Protection Oil you’ll be brewing in preparation for Professor Lavant’s class.”

  Color flushed into Vivian’s cheeks. Her blush was blotchy and unattractive. I doubted she blushed often. Witches had too much pride to bother with anything as plebeian as shame.

  “There are three versions of that potion,” Vivian said, voice still strained. Goddess, the woman hated even talking to me. “Each with slightly different effects.”

  “True. Give the witch a cookie,” I said with a sneer, and somehow my Jersey accent made the comment even better.

  A round of laughter ran through the faerie and celestial students. A few shifters joined in nervously, darting glances up at the witches. Every single one of them had chosen a seat rows away from me as if they couldn’t stand to be near me. Every witch’s face hardened in animosity, and the shifters quickly lowered their eyes. In a class like this, the witches were at the top and everyone else was at the bottom of the heap. They could learn the theory and benefit from potions, but very few possessed any natural magical ability. They’d be the first target of a witch if they got on the wrong side of one. Vivian looked ready to curse every living being in the class.

  Good. A furious witch was often an unwary witch. She’d count on her anger to carry her spells, which was a mistake. One I was only too happy to goad her into making.

  “But that’s not what I was talking about,” I continued after the laughter had died away. “If you’ve been keeping up with your textbooks in either class, you should have a good idea of what iteration of the potion will benefit your training in Lavant’s class. In addition, I’ve been dropping hints in my introduction, which should make it plainly obvious. Now, list the ingredients, Ms. Grimsbane.”

  Vivian had flushed a truly impressive shade of red. I felt three or four hexes tickle my aura, cast underhandedly by a few of her lackeys. Between my talismans, anointings, and personal protection charms, none stuck. Surprise and indignation registered on a few faces before they could school their expressions into something more neutral.

  Vivian’s eyes slid out of focus as she tried to summon the answer. I waited, a patronizing smile twisting my lips. Fury sparked in the eyes of every witch I could see.

  “Protection Oil needs a half basil, one fourth geranium, one fourth pine, and a few drops of vetiver.”

  “Wrong,” I said shortly.

  “But—” she began. I cut her off with a sharp look.

  “You listed the ingredients for the anointing of non-living objects. While vetiver can be used to cure some ailments, it’s unsafe for some women to consume, especially during pregnancy, therefore you’d have to be careful using that iteration of Protection Oil. It’s normally used on windows and doors to keep spirits from attacking a home. Another version can be worn on your person, but could cause lightening of the skin due to the concentration of sandalwood. Its other component, lily, has hydrating properties and can soothe inflammation on the skin. It’s a good choice if you have nothing else, but it’s not the most useful for Lavant’s purposes. Which just leaves the last recipe. Would you care to hazard a guess at what we’ll be brewing since I’ve practically spoon fed you the answer?”

  Vivian’s mouth worked soundlessly. I could almost feel the fury crackling off her, even at a distance. Her cheeks were practically glowing with embarrassment. I doubted any man had spoken to her with anything less than deference for her entire privileged existence and she had no idea how to react to impertinence from something as lowly as a male. And a male warlock, at that.

  I shifted my gaze to Eira, who’d resumed her eager posture, raising her hand high. I nodded to her.

  “Ms. Whittaker?”

  “One part frankincense, one part rosemary, and a few drops of lavender.”

  I smiled. “Very good. Just for that, you’ll be presenting first. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

  Eira beamed and a few flurries of snow burst in the air around her as she failed to restrain her excitement. She smiled back sheepishly when a few landed on my dress shirt, melting on contact.

  “Get to work, all of you.”

  Everyone pulled out the necessary ingredients and began adding them to their cauldrons. Potions could technically be made in anything, but this was an old, pretentious academy. Of course, they’d go with the old standby. I preferred a stock pot over an electric stovetop myself, but I’d been known to use beakers, bowls, and even a frying pan on one memorable occasion. I’d brewed in a cauldron a few times while learning, and to indulge Astrid’s theatrical tendencies on Samhain.

  Thinking of Astrid made worry twist under my ribs. Some hopelessly naive part of me had hoped she’d stroll in with the rest of her year, chatting happily with a friend. Her assigned seat was heartlessly empty, and I noticed that according to my predecessor’s files, she’d been marked absent for a week with the only note in the chart reading ‘remedial lessons required’.

  Which was a load of troll toss. Astrid struggled in many areas, but potions wasn’t one of them. She had as much knack for it as the gypsy, and she’d only get better as she continued to practice. There was definitely something fishy about her absence.

  It took longer than I expected for Grimsbane to get herself together in order to hex me. I kept my head bowed over a stack of paperwork, grading the papers turned in by the previous class. Professor Madden had been a middling teacher at best, with lesson plans drier than Libby’s biscotti. No wonder so many of her classes had abysmal grades. Half of them probably fell asleep listening to her teach. Again, Astrid’s papers were missing. It was as if someone had rifled through and deliberately erased any hint that she’d ever taken the class. But only half my attention was fixated on homework. I kept Vivian in my periphery, waiting patiently.

  She didn’t disappoint. Her first hex packed a punch, even with every precaution I’d taken. Someone had definitely been paying attention in black arts class. Casting the evil eye was something I’d expect from an upperclassman, not someone in Vivian’s year. The evil eye was only intended to cause suffering and could lead to death if strong enough. It took commitment and an extra dose of malice.

  I hadn’t contended with something that violent in a while, and I actually shifted backward in my chair as I fought it from taking hold. I’d let my standards slip, growing increasingly comfortable in the relative calm of the Scapegrace Coven. We seldom cursed each other. Wanda would occasionally hex me, but almost no one else bothered. Astrid usually couldn’t. My sister was a white witch, through and through. She’d barely summoned up enough ill will to trip me, even after I’d tricked her into helping me steal Wanda’s body. I really hoped that peaceful nature hadn’t gotten her killed.