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She returns less than a minute later with a spoon.

“Scooch over, Selene,” she says, sitting next to me. “I want some too.”

My eyebrows rise at the sound of my name—I didn’t realize she knew it—but I do make room for her.

“You okay?” she asks as a group of three witches catch sight of us.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say. Was she one of the witches who attacked me? I reassess her.

Rosemary scoops out a bite from the carton. “No one steals a tub of ice cream and eats it alone without having a supremely shitty day.”

I mean technically, I could just really like ice cream and not care about the consequences.

But she’s right.

“I’m just…overwhelmed…by things lately,” I admit. As I speak, the three witches I noticed earlier now come in, each of them carrying spoons.

Damn it. Now I have to share.

I eye each one of them, relaxing a little when I see that none of them are the witches from last night.

They could’ve still been out there in the woods. Or they could’ve been at the spell circle. They could be plotting against me even now.

I hate these thoughts, and I hate that I have to think about them at all. All I’ve wanted for the last year is to come to Henbane and make friends with other witches. But now I feel paranoid, like those medieval inquisitors who seemed to find witches in every shadow and demons in every witch.

Rosemary makes an agreeing noise, oblivious to my churning inner monologue.

“If that isn’t the Mother’s damn truth,” she says while the three new witches cram themselves onto the couch.

One of the new witches who sits down on my other side adds, “I’ve heard that Henbane is seriously considering closing its doors.”

I glance at her wide brown eyes, alarmed.

“What?” One of her friends echoes my thoughts. “Where did you hear this?”

“One of our instructors was discussing it with another faculty member when I came in for office hours.”

“Why?” Rosemary asks. “No other witches have been killed since the dance.”

“But more have gone missing,” the witch says, brushing back her curly brown hair before scooping out another bite of ice cream. “Not to mention there are plenty of angry parents set to sue the coven.”

Everyone is quiet.

I don’t want Henbane to shut down, not after all the effort that it took for me to get accepted and to stay here and make it work. However, it’s not like the concerns are fabricated.

More witches step into the room, some of them with spoons, some of them asking to borrow their coven sisters’ utensils.

I’m starting to feel agitated by the swarm of them when I catch sight of Sybil at the threshold of the den, her owl Merlin perched on her shoulder.

She must see the growing panic in my eyes because she smirks before she cuts through the room and the cluster of witches around me.

“All right, snack time’s over for you,” Sybil says, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the couch. Another witch catches the half-eaten carton of ice cream with her magic before it hits the ground.

Taking my spoon from my hand, Sybil gives it to another witch who needs one, then steers me out of the den and up to her room. As soon as the door shuts behind her, she leans against it.

“Okay,” she says. “Where the fuck have you been?” At her tone, Merlin flaps his wings before resettling. “And don’t give me some bullshit answer. Kane called me frantic last night, asking me if you made it home okay, and when I checked, you weren’t here.”

As she speaks, her lilac magic sifts out of her, a clear sign of her agitation. It weaves through my own power, which still hovers around me.