She just wanted the world to see her for who she really was, twenty-four seven, though.
Once she had those two spells down…
Back upstairs, Ridley offered the kale and carrots to Agent Smith. He wrenched them out of her hand and began attacking them methodically. Ridley’s familiar held nothing back, ever.
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she scrolled through her phone and found her playlist. She hit play on one of her favorite songs, “Sleepyhead” by Passion Pit. Listening to the words, she remembered the angel card she had selected from Daniel’s Cleveland Browns mug.
Courage.
Hmm. Maybe it was a message from the angels (and Daniel himself?) to deal with what was real. Today.
Or maybe tomorrow. Or later this week.
Ridley lay back down and closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.
A car in the driveway.
Her father must have doubled back. Ridley’s eyes flew open as she jumped out of bed and hurried to the window.
But it wasn’t the metallic-red Pacifica. It was a silver SUV.
Ridley’s entire body tensed. Was it… could it be… Brandon Fiske? Maybe her memory-erase spell from last week had worn off. Maybe he’d remembered about their encounter in the Seabreeze development.
She flattened herself against the wall, breathing hard. Was he here to hurt her? Hurt her family?
“Pleukiokus,” she said quickly. “Pleukiokus, pleukiokus, pleukiokus.”
But a protection spell wasn’t enough. She needed to be ready to defend herself. Where was Paganini? Was it still in her backpack, which was in her closet, which was all the way across the room? She needed to use magic that didn’t require her wand; should she try muto again?
She heard the car shift into reverse and back up out of the driveway. She craned her neck ever so slightly to peer out of the window. The SUV was heading down the street, in the direction of the high school.
Her breathing slowed. It’s okay, she told herself.
But it wasn’t okay.
Maybe she should really shore up her courage and just come out to her family, already. That way, she would be free to give up witchcraft; she wouldn’t need vertero or dissimulatio.
Although coming out would present a whole other set of challenges and dangers. Daddy wasn’t the only one who was a bigot when it came to the LGBTQIA community. Also, was she really ready to say goodbye to her coven sisters? She needed them more than ever to face what was ahead.
23 (UN)FAMILIARS
Some things, like Life and Death, are sacred and should be left to higher powers.
Mortality is its own gift. Nature is neither cruel nor kind; it simply is.
(FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)
At a few minutes past noon, Greta hurried down the East Wing corridor. She had arranged to meet Div, Aysha, and Mira in the parking lot, which was more private than the cafeteria; Binx and Iris would be joining them, too. The hallway swirled with students on their way to lunch, to clubs, and to rehearsals. They were all a blur to Greta, though—a blur of random bodies, fuzzy auras, and clashing conversations. She barely registered the stares and whispers as they walked by.
Everyone knew. Everyone knew that Penelope was dead. That Greta, Iris, Binx, and Ridley were the ones who’d found her body.
And found Gofflesby, too, although no one but Greta and her friends really cared about that.
Gofflesby was at home in Greta’s bedroom, hopefully resting. They’d taken him to the Sorrow Point Animal Hospital that night, to get him treated for whatever trauma he’d experienced, but by the time they’d arrived at the reception desk, he was wide-awake and energetic. So they’d turned around and driven home.
Back from the hospital, Gofflesby had promptly devoured five entire cans of cat food—a record for him. Then he’d continued behaving oddly all weekend. He’d been racing around the house as though hopped up on caffeine, climbing curtains, scratching up the wood floors, breaking teacups and other fragile items. Last night, he’d disappeared into the basement for hours and then, at around two a.m., appeared on Greta’s pillow with a dead, bloody mouse in his jaws. Totally out of character.
The other strange thing was, his cough was gone. His breathing was normal, like it used to be before his illness.
Was it a coincidence? Or had something—or someone—cured him during his disappearance?
Greta was so thankful to the Goddess that Gofflesby was okay. Still, her heart ached at the thought of Penelope. A sister witch, dead. Murdered. Also, what did that mean for herself and Div and any other witches who might have received a shadow message? Or were the shadow messages not even connected to the murder?
It was all so confusing, and scary, and she felt like it was on her and her fellow witches to figure it out.
Greta reached the double doors leading out to the parking lot. Outside, she spotted Div, Mira, Aysha, Binx, and Iris, all gathered around Div’s white car. Binx and Div had their heads bent together and were speaking in low voices while the other three witches were looking at something on Mira’s phone.
Binx and Div?
Greta blinked, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. No, it really was them, talking privately… about what?
“Hi, I’m here!” she called out in a voice that sounded too loud, too bright. Binx glanced up abruptly and turned away from Div.
Iris waved. “Hey, Greta! Hi! Hello! Greetings!”
Div regarded Greta coolly. “You’re late.”
“Sorry, I forgot my English notebook in class and had to go back for it.”
“Well, Binx has something important to share with us.” Div touched Binx’s elbow and said “Calumnia” as Binx stepped forward.
Greta crossed her arms over her chest. Annoyance and doubt simmered in her head.
“Um… why haven’t I heard
