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“Done.”

His eyes drop to my mouth, and as though he cannot help himself, he leans back in and retakes my lips, kissing me with a rough desperation.

“Sweeter than honey,” he murmurs against my mouth. He forces himself away, backing up. “I plan on tasting the rest of you tonight,” he vows, a searing look in his eyes.

I feel my skin flush.

Even in the dim light, he must notice it, because he says, “Love the way you blush, little witch. I hope you do that again when I eat you out like dinner later.”

“Memnon—” I admonish.

But he’s already stepped back onto the ley line and vanished from sight.

CHAPTER 40

I enter my residence hall,no longer fearful of the enemies housed under this roof. I have an ease—and a resolve—I didn’t a day ago.

Inside the house, a row of bags are piled in the foyer, and as I head up the stairs, the witches I pass appear to be packing or speaking in low, somber tones. The atmosphere of the place is strange and unsettling.

I step off the stairs on the fourth floor of the house and head down a wing I haven’t much visited. The buzzing lights flicker on and off in their sconces as I pass by room after room, as though the magic itself can sense a shift in me.

As I sidestep yet another pile of bags stacked in the hallway, I begin to wonder if this exodus has to do with Juliana’s death. But she couldn’t have possibly had so many witches bonded to her, could she?

The hallway at the end of the fourth floor hooks right, and beyond the turn, only two rooms remain, one to my left and one to my right.

The smell of formaldehyde thickens the air, and I feel bad for the witch on the right. It reeks back here.

I approach the door on my left and open it without knocking.

Inside, the first thing I see are shelves and shelves of mason jars, each one containing bits and pieces of zoological anatomy. One jar has eyeballs; another contains toads. I rip my gaze away before I can figure out the rest. Resting on the desk beneath them is a taxidermy cat—one that’s in rough shape. A massive vulture perches on the stuffed creature’s back, and as I watch, it pecks at the thing.

Well, that answers the question of how the cat got to be in such poor condition.

I don’t have time to take in the rest of the room before I hear a gasp.

My gaze moves to the floor, where Olga looks busy putting together a skeleton of some animal.

“Selene?” Her eyes flick over me. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t bother with niceties. “I know you gave me a spiked drink last night.” I step into the room and close the door behind me. “I wonder if you can guess what happened after that.”

She shrinks back. “I don’t know what?—”

“I fell off my broom, broke a few bones,” I say it casually as I step deeper into the room, as though the memory doesn’t hurt me. “Then I was collected.”

I stare down at her, letting the silence settle a bit.

“I imagine you don’t want to know the next part,” I say, crouching down in front of her, fully aware I’m being a menace. I don’t care. I want her to see the unshed tears in my eyes. I want her to see my horror and my pain. “I was taken to a room, and I was tortured, then bound to a psychopath against my will, then tortured some more.”

“I—I don’t…”

“I know you were bonded,” I say, speaking over her, “and I know you were made to do many things against your will.”

Olga blinks a few times, and I see her tears well.

“Juliana—Lia—is dead. If you feel a lightness in your chest, you’re not imagining it. Whatever link held you to her, it’s gone.”

Olga’s eyes are wide as she touches her chest. “She’s…gone?” the witch whispers.