Page 25 of How to Flirt with a Witch

The kitten meows—in protest, probably, because what kind of a name is Not-Lucy?

“Ethel,” I decide. My older sister went through a phase of binging old TV shows likeI Love Lucy. I guess it fits. Lucy was the chaotic one.

Natalie’s mouth quirks, teasing me with a grin that doesn’t quite come. I have yet to see her smile, and it makes me yearn for what I’m missing out on.

“I hoped you wouldn’t notice Ethel wasn’t the same cat,” she says. “I wanted you to be able to move on.”

I furrow my brow, the pieces coming together. “Is that why you took so long to get back to me? You were searching for a replacement kitten who looked like her?”

She hesitates, then turns toward the bed, answering with her back to me. “Yes.”

“Oh.” As furious as I want to be with her, she went to a lot of trouble for me. “You could have told me she died.”

Natalie shakes her head once. “I could tell how much that would’ve upset you.”

I watch her, numb, as she pries a lump out of the mattress. The whole doll seems to have shrunken into a purple gemstone. She pockets it.

Something strange is happening inside me, weakening my legs until I have to sit down in my desk chair. It was sweet of her to find me a new kitten—but a conclusion settles over me, heavy and somber.

Lucy is gone. Worse, she never really was.

But if she wasn’t a cat, what was she?

I rub my face. This is all so confusing and impossible.

I’ve stopped shaking, my pulse returning to normal—but as the adrenaline leaves my body, a sharp sting comes to my attention on the backs of my hands and forearms. I’m bleeding where Ethel used me as aramp to dive for safety. The cuts have slowed to an ooze, but the red has smudged across my skin, making it look worse.

Natalie notices and sucks in a breath. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “It was Ethel. She got scared of Rebecca.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Rebecca?”

“The doll’s name.”

The dimple makes another appearance.

Her reddened hand snags my attention, and my stomach lurches. She didn’t get through unscathed, either. Her sleeve covers her wrist where the hawk tried to eat her, but blood trickles down to her fingers.

My fault.The reality of what I’ve done hits me like a kick in the ribs.

“How about you?” I ask. “Do you need stitches or… a rabies vaccine?”

She tugs her sleeve further down. “I’ll take care of it at home.”

We stare at each other, a stalemate.

Natalie swears under her breath and walks a small circle, rubbing a hand over her throat. “I can’t believe you saw—this wasn’t supposed to—”

Guilt rises in me to see her distressed, but I can’t give in. I want an explanation.

“Listen, youcannottell anyone about this.” Her tone is firm, but her eyebrows arch downward—something desperate hiding beneath her expression.

Her moment of weakness bolsters me. I cross my arms, my need for answers surging back full-force. “Uh-huh. In exchange for keeping your secret, are you going to tell me what’s going on and why my room is in shambles?”

A muscle in her jaw flexes, a storm passing behind her eyes. “You shouldn’t have brought that doll home. That’s on you.”

A familiar defiance sparks inside me. “How was I supposed to know it was dangerous? You haven’t told me anything! I just felt the same feeling I did with Lucy, and…”