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The cloud envelops me a moment later, and for a heart-stopping few seconds, I can’t see anything beyond swathes of mist. But then I break through to the other side of it, and the sight before me is…unreal.

There’s a blanket of pale clouds beneath me, and the moon and stars hang above me, gleaming like gems.

“Hey, freak!” Sybil calls out from ahead of me. She’s come to a stop, her broom hovering in the sky. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“We’re almost there. Follow me!” With that, she takes off again, her broom arcing back down into the cloud cover.

I will my magic to follow hers and begin my descent. Not for the first time, I stare in awe after Sybil. I thought I was throwing caution to the wind, but it’s my friend who is downright fearless.

That point is only further driven home when I cut through the clouds once more. The experience isn’t as jarring as it was a minute ago, but as soon as I clear the clouds, I can see the ground far, far below me.

Fuck, why is it sofar?

But it’s a rhetorical question. The coastal mountains that Henbane is nestled among descend rapidly, ending right at the ocean. Most of the coastline here is inaccessible since it’s bordered by the sides of these mountains. But every so often, there’s a crescent-shaped section of beach, which is perfect for intimate parties, such as the one I can see below me, illuminated by a bonfire and several orbs of light.

It’s hard to see much beyond that, however, because a hazy cloud of magic hangs over the party, partially cloaking the supernaturals below it.

Ahead of me, Sybil drives her broom straight for the magical cloud. I can hear her peals of laughter as she cuts straight through the gathering, and I can imagine her parting the crowd of partygoers and possibly colliding with a few of them.

Yeah, I’m not going to do that.

Instead, I steer my broom toward the ocean beyond the party.

Under the moonlight, the water looks like glass, and the closer I get to it, the greater the urge to touch it. I lower my broom until I’m no more than a couple feet above the sea’s rippling surface, the waves looking inky in the night. I tuck my legs in close to my broom and lean down and reach out, dragging my fingertips across the top of the ocean.

The water is icy cold, and moving as fast as I am, the sea sprays against me. I laugh at the sensation, something primal stirring in me. I’m still a ways from shore, and if I fell into the water, I’d probably have to use more magic to get out of the situation, but I’m not afraid of the possibility.

This is what it means to be a witch.

I lift my hand from the water and rise a little higher as the water swells, then crests into waves the nearer to shore I get. I fly over the churning surf, then will the broom to slow as, beneath me, sand replaces sea. Once I hit dry sand, the broom comes to a stop, and I hop off, walking over to the edge of the party. A dozen other brooms lean against the rocky cliffside that borders it, and I leave mine among them.

I use a wordless spell to dry my skin and clothes. My nose and hands are numb from the cold, but I don’t bother wasting more power on heating them up. It’s nothing that a bonfire and booze can’t fix.

On the far side of the party a group of musicians play the fiddle, the harp and the flute.

I walk over to the cluster of witches and mages and shifters mingling around the fire. Among them is Kane. My stomach drops at the sight of him. I hadn’t realized he would be here. I nearly duck when he turns his head my way.

I move deeper into the group, my eyes drinking in faces. I can’t help but search the crowd for Nero’s attackers. I don’t know that they’re here or what I’ll do if I do see them, but?—

“Selene!”

I turn at the sound of my name, thinking it’s Sybil.

Instead, I take in wild-haired Olga. I’m used to seeing the witch with her Ledger of Last Words tucked under her arm. But for the second time this week, the book is out of sight. Instead, my coven sister holds two drinks in her hands.

“I haven’t seen you since Samhain!” she says, looking genuinely happy to see me. “So good to see you. Here.” She thrusts one of her drinks at me. “Want this? I got it for Mai, but now I can’t find her.”

“Oh,” I say, taking the drink reflexively, “thanks. I can’t find Sybil either, so that makes two of us.” I glance down at the drink. “Does this have anyespiritusin it?” I ask.

I’m still traumatized by the last time I drank the stuff.

“Not sure, if I’m being completely honest. A shifter was handing the drinks out. Why?” she asks.

I make a face. “Samhain was…an experience,” I say. “I ended up spending the night screwing my nemesis.” It feels weird calling Memnon that. Mynemesis. Wrong somehow. Lately, he’s been something else entirely.

“Oooh, sounds threatening andveryhot,” Olga says. “Well, cheers to making love in war.” She clinks her cup with mine, then downs her drink.