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He holds my gaze. “No.” Before I have a chance to respond to that, Memnon’s gaze returns to my stack of notebooks. “Burn those or ward them, but don’t leave any of them exposed here for others to pick through. Because I can assure you, if given the opportunity,they will.”

I walk over to the duffel bag. I don’t really know what I’m thinking when I shove the books back in, pick up the bag, and carry it to Memnon. He’s about as trustworthy as a hobgoblin—no offense to hobgoblins—but…I don’t know. Maybe the evening is getting to me, or maybe it’s feeling overly confident about this new bond of ours. Or maybe it’s simply the fact that even when he was seeking retribution against me, he was still trying to protect me and the things most sacred to me. Whatever the reason, I decide to trust my gut over all the bad blood between us.

“You want to earn back my forgiveness?” I ask. “Then you can start by taking these with you and protecting them like you intended to.” I hand the notebooks over.

Memnon watches me carefully with those smoky, calculating eyes as he takes the bag of journals from me, and I try not to think about what his own sleeping arrangements are. The last glimpse I had of his house was of it on fire. I press my lips together to avoid asking about the state of it or whether he’ll be okay. The sorcerer is nothing if not ruthlessly effective. If the house isn’t okay, he’ll simply find another. It’s everyone else around him who needs to be worried.

Memnon gives my lips a lingering look before backing up toward the door. “Stay safe,est amage. You are powerful and capable, but even that can be bested by treachery.”

I know both of us are thinking about Eislyn and Zosines.

I nod. “I’ll be careful.”

“Reach out to me when you want to discuss the murders—or if you need anything at all,” he says, his eyes lingering on mine. “I am yours to command.”

I frown, not liking how serious everything suddenly is or how my heart feels uncomfortably bereft now that he’s leaving. Ridiculous, foolish heart.

He waits for a moment for me to say something—anything—but I’m ensnared in my own mixed feelings.

“Um, okay…see you later then.” Not sure I could’ve made that any more awkward, but all right.

Memnon gives me one last penetrating look, and it feels like a promise. He raps his knuckles on my doorway. “Later, little witch.” He dips his head and leaves, a trace of his indigo magic lingering in the air after him before it dissipates away.

CHAPTER 14

Memnon’s wardsseem to do the trick. No one but me enters or exits my room, and two days later, as I sit in my Intro to Magic class, I’m beginning to think that maybe I’m safe for the time being.

I tap my pen against my notebook as I wait for Professor Huang to enter. I haven’t reached out to Memnon since he left my room. I still intend to discuss the murders and follow up on the weird clubhouse shit we stumbled on…but I chickened out yesterday, and today…well?—

I glance down at the skeleton catsuit I’m wearing. I’ve kept this costume around for years for this very day.

All Hallows’ Eve. Samhain. Halloween, for the uninitiated.

The night when the barriers between worlds are their thinnest. The Samhain Ball three days ago was in honor of the holiday, but tonight, the true celebration takes place.

Outside the lecture hall, witches in costumes are moving pumpkins and unlit lanterns across the back lawn and into the Everwoods. If they’re at all afraid of going into that shadowy forest, they don’t show it. But they must feel this oppressive tension that hangs over the coven.

Everyone is feeling the weight of the killings. From the rumors I’ve overheard in the last two days, Henbane’s administration is considering placing a campus-wide curfew. And if things get worse…there’s the possibility that Henbane will shut down, either temporarily or for good. Already there’s talk that the school is going to get sued by several of the victims’ families. This moment is precarious.

A few darting looks from some of my classmates drag me from my thoughts. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I remember all over again that only three days ago, I was a wanted suspect for murder.

I still hate you,I say to Memnon. It’s a super shitty way to reach out to someone you haven’t spoken with in days, but I think Memnon’s earned this sort of greeting.

Down our bond, I feel a flush of amusement.

Are you just randomly musing on this, or?—

Everyone around me still thinks I’m guilty,I say.

That’s not technically true. They might be aware that my name’s been cleared, and they’re simply curious. Either way, it sucks.

Want me to come over there and wipe everyone’s memory of those events?

It would be a hilarious offer if I didn’t believe he was serious.

Goddess, Memnon. Can you not go feral for five minutes?

I feel his grin through our bond, the sensation of it warming me from the inside out.