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“You and I both know you’ll get in after all you went through,” she says.

Wait, Sybil and I already talked?

I spend a frantic moment shuffling through my memories before I vaguely remember the conversation I had with her back at the airport in Quito, back when I was contacting friends and family to let them know I was all right. The plane crash was big news, even internationally.

“So,” Sybil says, interrupting my thoughts, “you’ll come to the party?”

Of course I want to go to the party. I just…I don’t want to feel like an outsider. This is my third attempt at getting into the coven, and considering Henbane’s fall semester starts at the end of next week, it’s not looking so good for me. I feel like I’m starting to garner people’s pity.

I chew on my lower lip, opening the calendar on my laptop. “When is it?”

“This Friday.”

That’s two days from now; it’s doubtful that I’ll know if I’ve gotten in by then.

“I’m tired. I just got back,” I say.

“Pleeeeaaase,” she begs. “The Marin Pack will be there. So will the mages from Bladderwrack Grove.”

Now she’s throwing the promise of hot shifters and magical dudes at me.

“I don’t know,” I say, still wavering.

“Comeon. We hardly ever get the chance to see each other these days.”

Sneaky friend, she knows just how to pile on the friend guilt.

“There’ll be witch’s brew to drown your regrets in,” she continues, “and I heard that Kane Halloway might be there.”

I place a hand over my face. “Goddess above, girl, when are you going to let me live that crush down?”

I was in love with the lycanthrope since the moment I laid eyes on him at Peel Academy three years ago. After he graduated, he returned to the Marin Pack, where he’d been born and raised. I don’t know whether I have supremely good luck or bad luck that his pack’s territory lies right next to Henbane Coven. If I were in the coven, I’d probably see him a lot; the witches tend to freely mix with the werewolves since they’re neighbors.

“Live him down? Oh, I’m not going to stop bringing him up until you have your wicked way with him.”

“Sybil.”

She cackles like the witch she is. “Come on, you know you want to go to the party.”

Do I? Because right now, all I want to do for the next month is curl up in my bed with a book and a cup of tea.

I glance at the calendar again.

There will always be time to read.

I sigh. “All right. All right.”

My best friend squeals. “Yes! And remember to wear a skanky dress.”

“Sybil—”

“And bring a broom, you freak. It’s going to be fun!”

CHAPTER10

The wind moansthrough the trees, rustling the evergreens that loom all around us. The air has a chill to it, and I can smell woodsmoke somewhere nearby. South America feels like a world away.

I don’t have a broom, though my dress is probably short enough to make Sybil proud. I’m one misstep away from everyone getting an eyeful of my coochie.