“I needed to talk to Div first.”
Talk to Div first?
This was getting more and more bewildering. Binx disliked Div intensely. She disliked all three of them; it was she who’d invented the nickname Triad of Evil. What was going on?
“So, I ran into Ms. O’Shea this morning.” Binx’s gaze moved across the semicircle of witches. “She’s the history sub for Ms. Hua. Ridley and Greta already know this, but she’s one of us, and she belongs to a coven up north,” she added.
Mira and Aysha exchanged a look.
“Yay, more witches!” Iris said, clapping. Then she blushed and stopped.
“Ms. O’Shea told me that her coven thinks one of the Jessups might be the head of a major new Antima group in town,” Binx announced.
Greta’s eyes grew enormous. Penelope’s boyfriend might be linked to the Antima?
“Wait, what? Colter’s family?” Mira burst out. “No way. No way. They’re super-chill and nice. They could never be part of a group like that.”
“We should find him and talk to him,” Aysha suggested.
“He’s not in school today. I checked,” said Binx.
Div turned to Mira. “Is Colter aware that you’re a witch?”
“Of course not!”
“How well do you know the Jessups?” Binx asked.
“Really well! Colter and I dated for, like, six or seven months. I used to have dinner with the family, like, once or twice a week. His dad always cooked; he makes the best homemade pizza. His mom’s a doctor, and she is the nicest person. His brother, Hunter, is… well, he’s hot, of course, because he’s basically just an older version of Colter. He’s smart, too; he wants to go to med school someday, like his mom. And the little sisters are just cute little brats, and besides, they’re too young to be in some anti-witch hate club.” Mira added, “My dad’s good friends with Mr. Jessup, too. In fact, Mr. Jessup’s helping Dad with his mayoral campaign.”
“Your dad’s running for mayor? Cool!” Iris piped up.
Really? Greta almost snapped at Iris—but why? Because Iris wasn’t in a terrible mood like she was? She needed to get hold of herself.
“Beatrix, did this history-sub-slash-witch give you any proof?” Aysha asked skeptically.
Binx glared at Aysha. “It’s Binx. B-I-N-X. Maybe you’ve had too many memory-erase spells cast on you; would you like me to fix that for you? And no, she didn’t give me any proof, but she seemed pretty sure.”
Across the parking lot, a black Jeep backed up and took off noisily. Likely seniors, since they had special privileges and were allowed to leave the school at lunchtime. Greta bit her thumbnail and watched the car driving away into the distance, toward downtown. She felt overwhelmed. Frightened. Angry. Everything. Honestly, she just wanted to go home and curl up with Gofflesby, tune out the world. There was just way too much to process.
Including… why was Binx acting all friendly with Div? It was bizarre and out of character. Was she getting back at Greta for their argument at lunch last Thursday? Maybe Greta should just ask Binx over for tea and apologize, hash out their issues.
When Greta turned her attention back to the group, she realized that Div was watching her. Greta couldn’t read the expression in her snakelike green eyes. Was she studying Greta? Staring her down? Preparing to strike?
Or remembering? For a moment, Greta let her mind travel back to her final coven meeting at Div’s house. Div had suggested that the two of them cast a necromancy spell. Greta had refused because Callixta’s book was firm on the fact that necromancy was about darkness, not light. Div had, of course, overridden her.
The lucky subject had been a dead gerbil Div had intended to feed Prada for lunch. She had arranged black candles, clear quartz, and thirteen primroses, thirteen blackthorn flowers, and thirteen daffodils inside a circle of salt, and the gerbil had been placed in the center, its body cold and its eyes unseeing.
Div had recited the words of the spell once, twice, then instructed Greta to repeat after her:
The dead which I seek
Come to me as I speak
It is not yet your time
So come back to us fine
Live a life
Free from strife
And return to this earthly plane.
They’d repeated the chant over and over. At first, Greta had moved her lips but not spoken the words, unwilling to participate. But when the gerbil’s body twitched, she’d joined in, wanting the small creature to live. Her emotions had been all over the place… on the one hand, she hated herself for giving in to the dark side of magic, but on the other hand, she felt exhilarated that the spell had actually worked.
The gerbil slowly and gradually came back to life. It stirred and blinked, stirred and blinked… then righted itself on all fours, looking this way and that for an escape route through the maze of candles, quartz, and flowers. For a brief moment, despite her objections about necromancy, Greta had been filled with a sense of wonder. How could it be wrong to help the helpless in this way?
Then Div had spoken into her neck, and Prada had materialized. And swooped in and devoured the gerbil, whole. Right in front of them.
Cruelty against animals was unacceptable to Greta. She’d asked Div tearfully: “Why bring something back to life, only to put it through an even more horrifying death?” Div’s answer had been blunt: “You’ll never achieve your full potential as a witch if you aren’t willing to get your hands dirty.”
That day, she’d walked away from Div’s coven—from Div—and never looked back.
Until now. She hadn’t returned, exactly, but it rattled her nevertheless, joining forces with her ex–coven-mate and ex-friend (and ex-crush, if she was being honest). Even if it was temporary, even if it was an emergency.
Binx’s voice cut into her thoughts. “… forgot to mention. Ms. O’Shea’s coven said the name of this local group is the New Order.”
Iris raised her hand high in the air. “N-O!”
“It’s okay, Iris, you’re not in class,” Mira teased her.
