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T HE RIDE I’ D ORDERED DROPPED me off in front of the house, and I didn’t hesitate to run up the steps and burst through the door. During the drive over, I’d worked myself up into a righteous anger over the events of the night. I’d been plagued by that vision for weeks , and it was possibly all because of my parents?

I stomped from the foyer into the family room to find my mom and dad lounging on the couch, watching a movie.

“Cam,” my mom said, and stood, her eyes wide. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” She was in her wine-mom outfit, her hair pulled back, yoga pants and T-shirt on, bare feet on the plush carpet of the living room. She didn’t look like someone who had assaulted a werewolf.

My dad stood as well, and he too was dressed down in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Not a speck of swamp on him.

I paused. Maybe Al had been wrong. Maybe it was someone else who had needed a spell.

“What’s going on? What are you two doing?”

My mom cocked her head to the side, then gestured toward the television. “We’re watching a movie before bed. Why?”

I licked my dry lips. “Is that all?”

“Should we be doing something else?” she asked.

“Popcorn,” my dad said, wagging his finger at me. “You’re right, Cam. I forgot the popcorn.”

I rocked back on my heels, squinting at them both. “No. I wasn’t thinking about popcorn.”

“Oh. Then I have no idea what you mean.”

Except that I was covered in blood and sweat and swamp mud, my shirt crusty from the combination. And any normal parent would’ve noticed that first, would’ve made sure I was okay. Unless they knew where the blood had come from. Unless they already knew what I had been up to that night. I tugged on my shirt hem with my mud-encrusted fingers, and I saw the realization of her mistake spread over my mom’s face.

My blood went cold. “What have you two done?” I rasped.

“Us?” my mom said, feigning surprise. “We haven’t done anything, Cam.”

We both knew it was a lie.

My dad pulled out his phone and tapped away on the screen, a frown on his face, but didn’t respond.

“Don’t lie to me.” My hands balled into fists at my sides. I was grimy from my hair to my feet. I was mentally and physically exhausted. I had seen two of my friends hurt. I was not going to be played with. “I know about the spell and the werewolf blood.”

My mom’s confused expression morphed into knowing disdain right before my eyes, confirming every fear that had percolated in my brain since Al’s phone call. Her shoulders and back straightened, and she immediately transformed from comfy Sunday-night mom into her hardened, no-nonsense self.

“That’s not your concern.”

I remembered Edith’s words. Head up. Make eye contact. Be confident. “It is my concern! What have you done? Have you lost your minds?”

My dad’s gaze snapped up from his phone. “Watch your tone.”

“I don’t believe this!” I threw up my hands. My heart thundered in terror, but I was more aghast than anything. “Whatever you’re planning, you can’t do it.”

“Oh, Cam. I wish that were true.” My mom steepled her fingers. “But we’ve been left with little choice.”

My throat tightened. My whole body ached. The burning sting of tears gathered behind my eyes. “Is this about me? About being clairvoyant?”

My mom hummed but didn’t answer.

“I know you didn’t want me to post the second and third glimpses, but I chose to do it. I chose to lean into this ability, because for once I was special. I could help people. And I made friends. That’s what you wanted me to do, right? Make friends this year? I did, and they’ve helped me understand myself. I’m not giving them up. I’m not giving up on me.” Al’s insistence on a themed school year, about embracing our authentic selves, came true in that moment. “I’m a psychic. I’m a clairvoyant. And I’m not scared of being one. I’m not ashamed of it either.”

My dad heaved a sigh. My mom put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Well, you’ve made our choice for us, then,” she said, her gaze sad. “The spell was originally for Aiden.”

I flinched. “Aiden?”

“To cure him of the love-magic that faery obviously cast on him,” my dad said, pocketing his phone. “We know you’ve talked to him.”

I took a step back and awkwardly crossed my arms. “I haven’t—”

“We’ve been tracking your new phone.” My dad left his post by the couch and joined my mom. “We know you went to the cottage.”

Oh shit. I had to warn Aiden. I had to text him. Oh no. What if I had accidentally lured him here and—?

“But now,” my mom said, looping her arms through my dad’s, “you’ve left us no choice but to start with you.”

My blood ran cold.

The front door opened, and I whipped my head around, terrified it was Aiden walking into a trap, but it wasn’t. Two people stepped in. One was covered in blood and held a vial.

I skittered backward, toward the kitchen and the side door, but it opened as well, and more people spilled in.

“It will be easier if you don’t fight,” my mom said.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. But I was not going to go easily. I ran for the stairs.

The people by the front door lunged.

I danced out of the way of the first pair of hands, silently congratulated myself, then promptly slipped on the carpet runner. My left foot slid completely out from under me, and I fell to my knees. My whole body jarred, and my phone skittered out of my hand. Any chance of escape evaporated as multiple people grabbed me and pinned me to the ground. I immediately concentrated on my psychic barriers, locking them in place, not wanting to accidentally glimpse.

I fought. I squirmed. I yelled for help, but no one could hear me. My shoulders were pushed down, my face smooshed into the floor. My feet were bound. A gag was shoved in my mouth, and a hood yanked over my head, as my arms were secured behind me.

“Quit struggling,” one of them grunted. “It’ll be fine.”

Fine? This was the furthest from fine I’d ever been. I wanted to laugh. I was already crying, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes. I was going to be sick.

“Hold him still,” said another voice. “I have something to help.”

I did the best I could to struggle, but I was truly stuck. I felt a sharp pinprick, followed by a cool wash of liquid into my arm, and a few seconds later I went limp.