“ We’re not going on a date,” Jen snapped, her cheeks flushing as she stormed ahead toward the front door. “We’re going to a bar to see your flirting in action and pinpoint exactly where you are going wrong.”

I followed her outside, BooDini drifting along behind us.

The ghost hovered at the threshold, gave a little wave, and then vanished back into the house.

The night air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and foliage thick as we made our way down the narrow lane toward town.

The only light came from the faintest sliver of moon hanging in the sky, casting everything in murky shadows.

Jen, apparently struggling with the near darkness, slowed her steps, squinting at the uneven path ahead.

“I can already tell you where I’m going wrong,” I said.

Jen shot me a skeptical look, arching a brow.

“It’s a simple case of being too sexy ,” I joked—though, honestly, it wasn’t far from the truth.

When women saw the version of me their subconscious wanted to see, I could have the personality of a grapefruit, and they wouldn’t care.

Half the time, they didn’t even bother asking for my name before inviting me to their beds.

Jen snorted. “I’ll have to take your word for it, seeing as I can’t see the fantasy version of you.”

I sucked in a dramatic, fake gasp. “You mean you don’t find the real me appealing?”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you save the flirting for the bar, hm?”

“I’m practicing,” I said, a little put out that she hadn’t actually answered my question. Did she find the real me appealing?

Jen didn’t respond.

I cast her a sidelong glance and followed her gaze down the lane, toward the dimly lit outline of the old basilisk’s house.

“I met him the other day,” I said, breaking the silence. “He’s the one who told me about the trick with BooDini.”

Jen parted her lips like she was about to say something, then hesitated, clamping her mouth shut instead.

Only when the house was completely out of sight did Jen finally speak.

“My family was very close to them,” she murmured.

“My mom and dad spent a lot of time at their house. Especially that last summer.” Her fingers fidgeted with the frayed sleeve of her hoodie.

“Ms. Cadmus had started to become forgetful. She’d misplace things.

Get lost. My parents spent a lot of that summer trying to help her. ”

A memory stirred in the back of my mind—Mr. Cadmus standing at the end of his lane, the thick scent of loss clinging to him, that underlying peppery tinge of confusion still hanging in the air.

The old basilisk had looked tired, and if he had been leaning on Jen’s parents for help nearly a decade ago, chances were he still needed some now.

“Mr. Cadmus told me to visit sometime,” I said, glancing at her carefully. “Would you... maybe want to come with me?”

Jen shook her head. “I think I’m the last person they’d want to see.”

“He said you didn’t deserve what happened to you,” I countered.

The words sat heavy between us, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mr. Cadmus had come to the same conclusion I had— there had to be more to it . A tampered brake line alone shouldn’t have been enough to kill two experienced witches.

Jen let out a quiet, indistinguishable noise that made it clear the conversation was over . And just like that, we settled into an awkward silence.

So much for my plan to get to know Jen on the ten-minute walk into town.

As the moon slipped behind a thick block of clouds, the towering, gnarled trees swallowed the path into darkness. A moment later, the first twinkle of town lights flickered through the trees, faint but promising.

Fortunately, being born of shadows, I had no problem seeing in the dark.

Jen, however, was not so lucky.

I watched—half in caution, half in amusement—as she did her best to navigate the path with some semblance of dignity, only to end up waddling like a penguin after leg day.

“You know, I can see perfectly in the dark,” I said, grinning. “Do you want to take my arm, Jen?”

“Good for you. I’ve walked this path for years.

I’m fine on my own, thanks,” she ground out, her steps slow and deliberate.

Thankfully for penguin-Jen , it was only a few more torturous moments before the soft beam of a streetlamp stretched across the path.

She let out a little huff of triumph at not having face-planted the ground, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Jen snapped a glare at me—a look I was slowly starting to love—before yanking her hoodie tighter around her and marching off down the street.

Headless Hollow was a quaint little town by day, but once gloaming set in, it transformed into a hive of activity.

The cozy cafés that had served breakfast rolls and coffee hours ago now bustled with late-night patrons, their breakfast menus swapped for trendy cocktails and expensive wines.

The streets glittered with fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the cobblestones as monsters of every conceivable variety filled the walkways, laughter and conversation spilling into the crisp night air.

Beside me, Jen kept her head low, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face.

“We can just go back to the cabin,” I offered, keeping my voice light.

Jen was uncomfortable. This town was filled with people who knew her past, who would whisper about what she had done. The thought of dragging her into a bar, forcing a smile while I flirted with strangers, felt... wrong .

Jen’s gaze flicked up at me from beneath the curtain of her hair. Though most of her expression was hidden, I could still see the steely determination in her eyes. “I made you a promise,” she said firmly. “You’re holding up your end of the deal.” Her tone left no room for argument.

A few moments later, we arrived at a neon-green building, its facade casting a soft glow onto the cobblestone street. Above the entrance, an apple-shaped sign pulsed with phosphorescent light, illuminating the bar’s name in curling, enchanted script: The Poisoned Appletini .

I pushed open the door, holding it for Jen as she scurried past me. She moved quickly, hugging the edges of the room, weaving through the dimly lit space until she reached the darkest corner, where she finally settled.

Something in my chest tightened.

She was hiding. Again.

I watched as her gaze swept the bar, her posture tense at first, then slowly relaxing as she melted into the darkness. She really did look beautiful, cloaked in shadows... though maybe I was just biased, being a demon born of them.

Images of my shadows coiling around her flooded my mind. Shaking off the thought, I stepped toward her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s good,” she murmured, nodding in approval. “Not desperate. Friendly. And just the right amount of seduction to suggest a drink as more than just friends.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“Oh... you were actually asking me if I wanted a drink?” she asked, clearing her throat, a flush creeping up her neck. “Um, yeah,” she said quickly, still not meeting my gaze. “Just... whatever you’re having.”

I nodded and walked toward the bar, but her words stayed with me. Just the right amount of seduction... For the second time tonight, I found myself wondering— did the little witch find me alluring after all?

I gave a nod of acknowledgment to the vampire beside me, who was casually cradling a bottle of Not in Vein , before taking my place at the bar.

The bartender glanced my way, did a double take, and immediately beelined toward me. “Has anyone ever told you that you look just like a young George Clooney?” she asked, fluttering her lashes in a way that I was sure had worked on plenty of men before me.

“Once or twice,” I said, forcing my tone to remain neutral, though irritation prickled at the edges.

The vampire beside me gave me a once-over, his lips twitching into an amused grin.

“What can I get for you, hon?” the bartender purred, reaching out like she was about to brush her fingers over my hand.

I shoved both hands into my pockets before she could make contact. “Dealer’s choice,” I said, wanting the conversation to be over as quickly as possible. “Can you make it two?”

She giggled, spinning on her heel before pulling out a metal cocktail shaker. As she worked, she seductively ran her fingers over every vaguely phallic object in sight.

“Incubus?” the vampire beside me asked.

“What gave it away?” I asked, glancing at him.

He smirked. “You’re a handsome fella, but definitely no George Clooney.

I once had a friend who was an incubus— terrible choice of wingman,” he added with a chuckle, though there was something wistful beneath it.

“Never could pull any of the ladies when he was around, even when he was happily mated and had a kid.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Sounds about right.”

The vampire took a slow sip from his bottle, then gave me a considering look. “You’re a new face around here. On vacation?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Staying in that haunted cabin in the woods.”

He stilled, staring into his drink, the corner of his lip twitching into the slightest grin. “Ironic,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then, looking back up at me, he asked, “The ghost hasn’t scared you away yet?”

I smirked. “The ghost and I are thick as thieves.”

That earned a low chuckle from him.

“How about you?” I asked. “Here on vacation too?”

The vampire’s eyes flashed a bright yellow as he straightened, puffing his chest out slightly. “I’m one of the original founders of Headless Hollow—back in 1758.”

My brows lifted. “Impressive.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “It was a long time ago. These days, I’m retired—left the whole founder thing behind nearly a decade ago to follow my true passion.” His fangs flashed in a grin. “Books.”

“Are you a writer?” I asked, hoping to pick up some words of wisdom I could pass on to Jen.