Moonset

else.

“Cen fal la,” I whispered, eyeing the wall sconce on the far side of the room. It wasn’t a sanctioned spell, but a hodgepodge of words I’d glued together when I was still in grade school. It had only one real effect.

The light bulbs in the sconce popped—loud enough to cut through the noise—one after another, a tiny fizzle of sparks accompanying each tiny explosion.

“Jesus, Justin,” Mal cried, swatting at the back of his head. He wasn’t close enough to actually get burned, but that didn’t stop him from overreacting. “What the hell?”

“Mal, can you guys give us a minute?” I asked. Maybe I would have a better chance at getting through to Jenna if it was just one on one.

There was some grumbling, and some dirty looks, but eventually Mal and the kids went outside. Either to one of the other motel rooms the Witchers had rented—because they could shove three of us into one room, but god forbid any of them have to share—or to go harass the vending machines.

“I’m not the only one you should be mad at,” Jenna started immediately. “We almost died there. That thing started wagging his chains all over the place, and I thought for sure that we …

”

“But we didn’t,” I pointed out as gently as I could. “Quinn was there.”

“But he didn’t have to be,” she insisted, looking me full in the face. “We don’t know how to protect ourselves. We can’t protect ourselves. And you saw the way Virago was. She was basically useless. The other one died before he could even do anything. If Quinn didn’t have half a brain, that thing would have taken us.”

There was something she wasn’t saying. Her words cut off too quickly, and I could feel the unfinished thought in the air. “And … ?” I asked, pushing her.

Jenna looked back up at the ceiling. “And maybe it should have. If it was really working for

Bridger, maybe he would have taught us. Showed us the things we need to know.”

I came close to throwing my hand over her mouth. As it was, my eyes flew to the closed door, even as I was whispering every anti-eavesdropping spell we knew.

They taught us simple magic like that in spades. Spells that would never really be useful except in random situations. Nothing that would ever save our lives. Jenna was right in that regard.

“You can’t say things like that,” I whispered furiously. “What if someone was listening?” Any minute, I expected the Witchers to come rushing through the door and haul us off to wherever they took warlocks and warlock sympathizers.

“What if they were? I’m not saying we follow the family business, Justin, I’m just saying … maybe it’s the smart move. Maybe he knows why we’re like this,” she said, gesturing around her in a circular motion. “And what they did to us.”

“And then what? He teaches us and tells us things and bakes us cookies? He’s a terrorist, Jen. Come on.”

No one had seen Bridger since the fall of Moonset, but his name kept coming up, like a cockroach burrowed into the foundation. He, or someone using his name, claimed credit for a variety of terroristic acts. Like the mass hysteria unleashed at a Paris art gallery, when a secret spell had become an airborne virus that spread from person to person, compelling each one to tell every secret they knew they shouldn’t. Not devastating in the small scale, but within a day, government secrets were at risk, as were secrets of the Parisian covens.

It was said that he’d inspired even more horrific acts of violence, like being a muse for the

Spokane Ridge killer, who’d killed seven teenagers in the last four years until being caught last summer. The stories we heard said that the killer had thought of his spree as an audition, trying to make Bridger take notice.

There was one thing we had in common with him, though. Bridger, like us, was a reminder of a war that most wanted to forget.

“What if we’re just like them?” Jenna asked.

“We’re not.”

“We could be.”

“No, we couldn’t.” I could be just as stubborn as Jenna when the mood struck me.

They say the blood of warlocks is black as pitch. I’ve grown up staring at the veins in my arms and the ones trapped beneath my wrist, tapping them at times in restless fear, waiting for the day they changed. But they never did.

That wasn’t to say they never would, no matter what lies I told.

Four

“Our government is overseen by the Congress.

The leaders of the seven Great Covens—so named because of their contributions to magical society—and five Solitaires chosen by general election act as the stewards of our future.”

Coventry in the 21st Century

Just as quickly as we were reunited, they split us up again. The vans that had brought us to the motel were gone, replaced by a trio of hybrid SUVs.

“The environment, really?” Jenna asked, quirking a brow at Quinn.

“It’s our planet, too,” he replied with a grin.

There was no sign of Virago—Meghan—anymore. Instead, a clean-cut pair of college kids had showed up, looking like the poster children for the Greek system.

“Malcolm, you’ll be going with Nick,” Quinn said, pointing to the frat boy. “Cole and Bailey, you guys are going to be with Kelly.”

Cole didn’t hesitate for a second. “We’re good with that,” he said, speaking for the both of them. Bailey gave him a cross look, but she didn’t argue.

I did the math. “So that means we’re—”

“With me,” Quinn confirmed.

Jenna perked up. “So you’re our permanent guardian now?”

“That’s the plan,” Quinn said absently, barely paying attention to her. “For now.”

I looked between the two of them, considering my next move. Jenna had never thought one of our guardians was hot before. They changed with every new city we moved to, as if a change in babysitters would somehow change the behavior that led to us being kicked out of school.

I tried to predict all the ways that this could turn out badly. The disasters that would come if something d i d happen between them. The disasters that would come if something didn’t happen. The disasters that could come along the way.

Malcolm edged his way towards me. “So?”

When he wasn’t angry and running on emotion, Mal would and could boil down his every thought into as few words as possible. Right now, his “so” contained so many different questions and demands that I could barely handle them all at once.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. It covered as many of them as I could. I didn’t know how to get through to Jenna, I didn’t know if I even could. I looked around, desperate to change the subject. “Do you even know where we are? I was asleep when we pulled in a few days ago, and we haven’t left the room since.”

“No television? They make these things called news channels that could narrow it down for you.” Mal smirked.

“Tried that,” I said automatically, “but they all keep referring to the tri-state area. Nothing that narrows it