Chapter One

Genevieve Weist sent a scowl down at her English test. Fifty-seven percent? That was absurd. Sure, she only skimmed through the five hundred page book the night before the test last week, and she’d barely answered half the questions...but her non-studying ways usually got her better grades than that.

She slumped back in her seat. What a way to start a Monday.

"How’d you do?" Merri whispered from behind her.

Gen held up the test over her shoulder in answer. "You?"

Merri handed her the test. Ninety-six? Goddamn!

Probably just ‘cause she’s psychic, Gen thought with disgust. There should be a rule against people taking tests when they magically already know all the answers. So what if Merri’s seeing abilities didn’t necessarily extend that far—it still wasn’t fair. Of course, the fact that she’d actually read the book probably helped with passing the reading test...

But ninety-six in one of Kern’s classes was just plain wrong.

"How about you, Lev?" Gen asked, turning to her best friend. Before he could answer—or cover the paper from her prying eyes—she saw the red mark at the top. "Eighty-two? Don’t you dare tell my mom or she’s going to kill me."

"Books gathered up, folks," Kern said. "It’s your first work session for your presentations."

"We’re having presentations?" Gen whispered to Levi.

"Yeah. We picked groups last week, remember?"

Gen vaguely remembered something like that. "Do we have a topic?"

"Psychology in What’s Bred in the Bone," Merri informed her.

"Ah. Glad you two are on top of things." She had just gotten her notebooks packed in her messenger bag when her gaze caught a figure hanging in the classroom doorway.

"Who’s she?" Levi asked before Gen could.

"Dunno, but I just kind of hope she’s staying," Gen replied with a grin. Average height and build, the stranger’s features were cute and girlish. Long, curly dark hair was pulled up into pigtails...and Genevieve just loved pigtails; at least when they were the cute/playful kind instead of the Lolita/whore type.

"You just sighed."

"Huh?" Gen tore her eyes from the new girl to see what the hell Levi was talking about.

"You sighed. It was all dreamy-like."

"No I didn’t!"

"Yeah, you did," Merri said.

Oh well. Maybe she had. But since when were cute girls not sigh-worthy?

Kern went to the door to speak to the girl, and then gestured for her to enter the classroom.

"Find a group," Kern told her. "We’ll be heading to the library soon."

The girl stepped inside, glancing around the room, no doubt looking for an available seat—

And then she promptly tripped over someone’s knapsack and nearly fell headfirst into a desk before she corrected herself.

As a few people snickered, the new girl plopped down at the empty desk in front of Gen.

"Hi," she said, turning her dark eyes Gen’s way. "My name is Peyton Rice and I’m a klutz."

"I’m Genevieve Weist and I’m a recovering klutz," Gen replied with a grin. She caught Levi’s gaze and corrected herself. "Well, that is to say I have the occasional relapse."

Gen gave Levi a meaningful look. He rolled his eyes and nodded his okay to her unasked question.

"Would you like to join our group?" Gen said.

Peyton’s brightened at the offer. "Absolutely...as long as you’re not worried I’m going to break something. One question though...what are we doing in groups?"

Genevieve decided to have Meredith field that question. The Seer and Peyton took the lead as the class left the room for the library.

"She’s hot," Levi whispered when he and Gen were out of earshot of Peyton.

"She is," Gen agreed.

"Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas," Levi warned with a snort. "Statistically, it’s more likely she’s straight, and I don’t want you to be all disappointed when she’s out with me."

"Actually, I’ve read that all women are at least a little bisexual."

"Hmm." Levi gave that possibility some thought. "Okay then, threesome?"

"Right," Gen replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Fine. Can I at least watch?"

"We’ll see."

Of course, she did know he was right. The fact that she already knew two lesbians—who were both her age and out—suggested she wouldn’t be meeting any others any time soon. A sure way of telling, however, would be how much Levi decided he liked the new girl. If she was his new obsessive crush...well, odds dictated she was either seriously involved with someone of the opposite sex, or preferred the attention of someone of the same sex.

Levi and his unattainable crushes... Immediately, Gen’s thoughts fell to Sage. No one had seen her since Hayden’s funeral, at least as far as she knew, and that had been over three weeks ago. Levi wouldn’t breathe her name, so Gen had no idea if he was still mad at Sage or not.

He should be mad at me too. She sent a guilty glance at her friend. He blamed Sage for Hayden’s attack, and probably for his subsequent death, all because she was involved in "something" and that something had trickled into the lives of those around her. But it was Gen’s something as well, and it ate at her insides to not be able to tell him the truth.

Though Gen had tried calling the Bethanys’ a few times, Diana had said Sage was out, and that she’d pass on the message. Sage never called back.

Whether or not Michael or Merri had seen her, Gen couldn’t tell. Without Sage harping at her to go there all the time—and with the threat to their lives apparently dormant for the time being—Genevieve avoided Michael’s place as much as possible, which translated to visiting once every four days or so. She never saw Sage there, and Merri had never said a word about it either.

Once the class reached the library, Meredith—ever the studious one—immediately went to look for books, while Gen had already forgotten what it was they were supposed to be researching.

"So you just moved here?" Gen asked Peyton as the remaining group members pulled chairs up to a round table.

"Yeah," Peyton said quickly, then rethought it and shook her head. "Well, like, no, I haven’t moved here yet, ‘cause stuff got delayed where my dad works, so we had to wait another month, and then they—my parents—decided to send me to stay with my aunt so I didn’t miss any more school, though over a month is still a lot, ‘cause I’ve already missed stuff—didn’t even read this book yet." She sucked in a deep breath and blushed a little. "Okay, sorry, I talk, like, a lot." Her face was animated and expressive, and she seemed oblivious to her hands flying around excitedly when she spoke. No wonder she was worried about knocking things over, but Gen found it more cute than anything.

"So anyway," Peyton continued. "I ended up coming here, though Mom was all worried and talked about sending me to the Catholic school—which I’m Pentecostal so why would I go there?—because she thought it was violent because of that guy who got stabbed and died—"

The energy around the table noticeably dropped. Levi cast his gaze down towards his books and Peyton immediately realized something was wrong.

"I’m sorry—was the guy a friend? Did you know him?"

"Levi’s brother," Gen said gently.

Peyton’s eyes grew huge and she clasped her hand to her mouth. "I am so sorry, I had no idea..."

Levi shook his head. "It’s okay, I know you didn’t."

"So did they catch the guy who did it?"

Again, Levi shook his head, and Gen involuntarily winced. I wish I could tell him...

Hell, I wish we could have at least found the guy who attacked him. They’d killed his lackeys, sure, but the head guy? Not yet; Michael still didn’t know who it was. She was sure he’d tell Merri if he knew, and Merri promised to keep Gen informed.

"I’m sorry, Levi, I didn’t know—I should probably start thinking before I open my big mouth."

"Naw, it’s okay." Levi offered her a weak smile. He was dealing, Gen knew. Counselling at the school twice a week. Counselling with his parents once a week. Counselling without his parents two more times a week. He’d be a therapist himself in no time, but Felix and Jackie Greene insisted, and Levi wasn’t arguing.

Genevieve was about to speak when an announcement came in over the P.A. system.

"Ms. Kern, do you have Grade Eleven Advanced English there?" the secretary asked.

Kern acknowledged she did.

"Is a Genevieve Weist in class today?"

Gen started at the sound of her name. What the hell had she done now? She never "did" anything. Doing stuff would get her noticed and coasting was much more fun.

"She is." Kern sent a glance Gen’s way.

"She’s to come down to the office now, and bring her things with her."

Oh, shit. Bring her books? That could only mean she wasn’t coming back to class...

"She’ll be right down," Kern informed the secretary.

Gen gathered her bag, which at least she hadn’t unpacked yet, gave the others an apologetic wave goodbye, and reluctantly wandered down to the office, dragging her feet as she went.

"Genevieve Weist," Gen said when the secretary finally acknowledged her in the office. You called me down here."

"Your father called," the woman said, handing Gen a slip of paper. "Said he got you an appointment and he’d be here to pick you up right now."

Gen looked over the piece of paper with the woman’s messy writing. Nothing more there than what she had said.

"Did he say what the appointment was for?"

"None of my business, dear." The woman looked at her computer screen and began to type, making it clear the conversation was over.

Under any other circumstances, she would have been glad to be out of English class, but appointments usually signalled bad things, like dentists and fillings... Genevieve wandered out of the office, still pondering the note.

Outside the school, Gen stopped a few metres from the driveway. She didn’t see any cars, and figured her dad wasn’t there yet.

"Gen!"

She turned to see Stephie hop up from the grassy knoll where she sat with a handful of other stoners and run towards her.

"Hey Steph—"

"Okay, quick." Stephie grabbed her by the shoulders, voice urgent. "I have an appointment with the guidance counsellor in like ten minutes—does my breath smell like Jack Daniels?" Without warning she breathed heavily into Genevieve’s face.

Gen scrunched up her nose. "No, but you smell like weed."

"Oh, ‘kay, that’s a relief."

"It is?"

Stephie shrugged. "I’m pretty sure he puts hash oil in his cigarettes, so he’d better not say anything." Her gaze drifted over Gen’s shoulder, then her eyes lit up. "Ooh, hot!"

Gen followed the direction her friend stared in and sighed as she recognized the new black convertible with the roof drawn down...and worst of all, the figure driving it.

"Great," she muttered.

"You know him?" Stephie said immediately. "Who is that?"

Someone who isn’t my father.

"I’ll talk to you later."

"Seriously, who is—"

"Just, uh...art school guy. He can get supplies real cheap from this warehouse so we’re going to pick some up." At least that sounded semi-believable. If he’d just kept the old four-door car, the roof would be hiding him and she wouldn’t have to explain to Stephie who he was.

"Can I come?"

"Bye, Steph."

Gen trudged toward the car, leaving Stephie—and probably a gazillion questions—in her wake.

"Why, you’re not my dad!" Gen feigned astonishment as she stopped next to the passenger side of Michael’s car.

He barely glanced at her in acknowledgement. "Get in."

"I don’t get in cars with strangers."

"Now."

Grumbling under her breath, Gen complied. She threw her bag into the back, then slammed the door shut and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know, you interrupted a really great class," she pouted as he swung the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

"Really?" he said skeptically, still not looking at her.

Sure, she’d bitched enough times about school when she was supposed to be putting out candles with her mind or whatever, but that certainly didn’t give him permission to kidnap her from English.

"Yes. I was talking to a very cute girl, and I really don’t appreciate the conversation being interrupted. What am I going to do if Levi starts dating her before I can convince her she likes girls? Hmm? Did you ever think of that?"

He didn’t reply, so she slumped back and sulked a while longer.

"So where are we going?"

"We’re going to see a woman about a book."

"Is she cute?"

"Haven’t met her."

"What kind of book?"

He gave her one of his, "Could you be any more stupid?" looks, and she understood. It must be a spell book.

"And why do I have to come?" she asked, reminding him he hadn’t filled her in on that part of the plan.

"She’ll only sell it to a witch."

"That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard—why?"

He shrugged. "Some don’t like to sell to collectors—they’ll only part with a book if they know it’ll be used. The potential seller said she’d only like another witch to have it."

"Wait, so she’s..." Even though they were in a car driving fast enough that no one could possible hear them, Gen dropped her voice nonetheless. "A witch?"

Another glance, telling her she was stupid for asking, followed in answer.

"So there are other witches?" she asked.

"Of course there are," he said.

"Well then, why haven’t you been bugging them instead of me? Jesus Christ, there’s all these other goddamn witches running around selling spell books, and you still insist I’m the special one?"

"Unfortunately."

"Are there love spells in the spell book? Something that’ll work on the cute girl I had to leave so I could go with you to get this stupid book?"

"It’s doubtful."

"Why do I need the book again?"

"It has highly advanced spells."

"Like fireballs?"

"No."

"That’s not very advanced."

Gen wasn’t sure where they were driving, but at least they seemed to be staying in town. Michael drove them to a block of newer apartment buildings and condos, and as Gen gazed around, she realized she vaguely recognized the area.

"Hey, doesn’t Mer live around here somewhere? Sage and I walked her home one night, and I think it was to one of these buildings."

"I believe so," he said as he pulled the car into the parking lot beneath one building. He seemed to know where they were going, so Gen just grabbed her bag as she got out of the convertible and followed him.

Michael led her out of the dark parking lot to the main entrance. A wall of pristine glass panels gave Gen a glimpse into the foyer. It was definitely a nice apartment building. She spent a lot of time at Stephie’s building, where there were fingerprints all over the glass, the buzzers didn’t work, and a few of the mailboxes didn’t lock properly. But this place was pure class. Either the superintendent spent his or her time constantly cleaning, or the landlord hired outside help, because there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.

Michael buzzed one of the apartments and a minute later a woman’s voice sounded over the intercom.

"Yes?"

"This is Michael Parris."

"Your last name is Parris?" Gen whispered.

"That is what I said," he snapped back.

It was strange to realize she’d known the guy for over a month and yet never knew his full name before. At least it seemed Sage was wrong and he wasn’t related to Merri, though.

"I’m here to see Krysta about a book," he continued, shooting Genevieve a "keep your mouth shut" look. Gen found it equally strange that, for a guy who showed nothing but displeasure with every task she’d ever seen him have to perform, he managed to have very distinct, readable expressions.

The security door unlocked and Michael tugged it open.

Inside the foyer, across from the mailboxes, was an elevator, and beyond that a stairwell. From outside, Gen counted at least a dozen floors, so she was relieved when Michael went straight to the elevator.

He didn’t say a word to her on the way up. Gen was grateful for that, though; when he did speak to her, she rarely liked what he had to say.

The elevator halted at the seventh floor and the doors powered open. Michael seemed to know where he was going—he didn’t pause to check the numbers on the doors or cease his step for a moment. Instead, he walked confidently down the hallway to the number 7-F, the final door at the end of the corridor.

Gen held behind him a little as he knocked, having no idea what to expect. Creepy old lady who cackled? Ditzy twenty-something claiming to be a "white witch?" A crazy person with fifteen cats and pentagrams all over the walls?

The door opened...and none of the above waited for them.

A stunningly beautiful woman slid her hand up the doorframe lazily and gazed at them with eyes like liquid chocolate. A magenta silk kimono casually hugged her body, complimenting both her medium brown skin and shapely figure.

At least this Krysta woman is cute, Gen thought, though there was something predatory in the woman’s eyes. Beautiful, but unsettling...

Okay, I wanna go back and see Peyton now.

Krysta’s stare bore into Michael for a moment, then slid to Genevieve, and she cocked a dark brow.

"Is this a joke?" she asked Michael, a half smile turning the corners of her full lips upward.

"We’re here for the book," he said.

"And I told you I would only sell to a witch."

Michael gestured behind him to Genevieve. "That’s her."

Krysta looked at Gen with clear skepticism. "Look, Michael, I don’t care about how much you want the book—bringing your little jailbait girlfriend here to get it isn’t going to work."

"Eww, I’m not—" Gen was silenced by a glare from Michael.

"I told you on the phone she was young. But she’s got potential and I want the book."

I’ve got potential? That was definitely the nicest thing he’d ever said about her, though she hadn’t ruled out the possibility he was just lying so he could buy the spell book he wanted.

Krysta regarded them in silence for a moment, then stepped back from the doorway and let the door swing open. "Come in and sit down."

Gen followed closely behind Michael as they stepped into the apartment. Sure, he almost let her die a couple of weeks ago, but Krysta still creeped her out even more.

Immediately inside the door was the living room. The fluffy floral-patterned couch and love seat seemed more reminiscent of Gen’s mother’s taste than that of an attractive thirty-something women who sold spell books and lounged around in what looked like an expensive robe. Genevieve took a seat on the couch next to Michael. Krysta sat across from them, draping one long leg over the other, and while it wasn’t quite Sharon-Stone-in-Basic-Instinct revealing or anything, Gen made a point to avert her gaze from the expanse of leggy flesh exposed as the robe slipped a little.

"So what can your girl do?" Krysta asked coolly.

"She’s just learning," Michael said.

Krysta shook her head. "I told you the other night, Michael, I will only sell this to a witch. Not I, nor the owner before me, nor the one before him, wish this to belong to anyone who isn’t one of us. That was the deal."

"She—"

"That was the deal," she repeated.

A strange feeling of pride twisted through Gen. She may not welcome the responsibility Michael thrust upon her, but at this point she could at least be sure she had some sort of power. Power to put out a candle, maybe, but power nonetheless.

Krysta’s gaze flickered Gen’s way, and Gen felt her face heat up with embarrassment.

Nope, don’t look at me—just take this up with Michael...

"You have something to say?" Krysta asked.

"Well, I...uh..." Gen didn’t bother chancing a look at Michael, instead straightening her back and attempting to put on a brave front. "I’m not just any witch. I’m like the Witch. With a capital W and everything."

"What the hell is she talking about?" Krysta directed to Michael. "What have you been filling the kid’s head with?"

"She doesn’t mean anything." Michael gave Gen a swift glare, and she slumped back on the couch, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"I don’t think this book is for you," Krysta said. "There might be something in my collection that interests you—"

"I want that one."

"Well, you’re not going to get it."

"Just give him the freakin’ book, lady!" Gen said suddenly. "I’ll be getting more use of it than you!"

Michael turned to her sharply. "Keep your goddamn mouth shut, unless spoken to," he growled.

"But she—"

"I mean it."

"You think I haven’t seen this a dozen times before, Michael?" Krysta said. "A collector shows up, ditzy little plaything in tow, thinking I lied about the conditions put forth, and I’m merely looking for an excuse to sell the book? That isn’t how it works."

"Where’s your washroom?" Michael said abruptly.

Krysta gestured over her shoulder. "First door on the right, down the hall."

Michael glanced at Gen. "Go."

"But I don’t—"

"Yes you do. Go."

Grumbling under her breath, Gen stood and stomped in the direction Krysta had indicated. Presumably, Michael wanted to have a private conversation with the stupid witch...unless "go to the bathroom" was code for "go look for the book so we can steal it." That could be possible...though it would have been nice for him to let her in on the plan before they got to the apartment.

In the narrow hallway, Gen saw the first right door open, beyond which was a spacious bathroom of gleaming white tile and a Jacuzzi tub. Past it was a second, more narrow door—possibly a linen closet. At the end of the hall was a closed door that Gen guessed led to the bedroom.

I wonder... Could she sneak in there without anyone noticing? Possibly. It depended on whether or not Michael was keeping Krysta’s attention away from Gen.

Before Genevieve went for the door, she decided to glance over her shoulder and check if they were watching her.

They were. Two pairs of eyes stared at her; Michael’s were annoyed, and Krysta’s looked curious.

"It’s right there beside you," she said.

Gen’s face went red. "Oh, yeah. Right. Okay..." She slipped into the bathroom, switched on the light, and closed the door before she could make more of a fool of herself. She leaned heavily against the door and sighed. Wow, this sucked. She missed English class.

Not having to actually use the facilities, Gen used the time to look around. No sign of any spell book. No sign of much, truth be told. Everything was very clean, very white, and very...cold. Nothing cluttered the sink, everything was in its place...the woman was definitely weird.

Make that fucking creepy, she thought as she cracked open the cabinet under the sink. Still no spell book, but there was a small, lit votive candle—black—and various dried plants arranged around it in a circle. A few stones were scattered about, polished and gleaming in the dim light, and off to the side was a wax human-shaped figure, about the length of her hand, with no discernable details or features.

The whole thing was like a Satanic ritual scene straight out of a lame horror movie, minus a few dead creatures and a victim strapped to an alter. With a little shudder, she closed the cabinet doors and hoped Michael would finish arguing soon so they could get the hell out of there.

Gen sat on the edge of the bathtub, unsure of how long she was supposed to stay there, or even how long she’d already been in exile since she hadn’t worn her watch. When sufficient time had passed—and her butt was sore from the tub—she stood and cracked open the door.

Michael and Krysta still sat in the living room, and the witch let out a laugh.

At least they’re getting along...

Gen crept back into the hallway towards the couches. Both Michael and Krysta noticed her approach, the latter rising and smoothing out her robe.

"I’ll get that wrapped up for you," she said brightly and stepped past Genevieve in the direction of the bedroom.

Gen turned to Michael in shock. "What the—"

"Shut up," he advised.

"But is she really getting the book?"

"Just sit and wait."

Minutes later, Krysta returned with a book-shaped package in brown wrapping paper. Michael stood and accepted it, then handed her an envelope in return. Gen had no idea what he might be paying her, but it was clearly cash, and probably a lot of it.

Relief washed over her as she saw Michael head towards the door, and Gen was quick to follow. The sight of the open door and hallway beyond it—an exit from the unsettling Apartment of Doom—was almost too much, and she rushed through the threshold immediately, pushing past Michael. Only a few steps down the corridor, she realized he hadn’t followed.

Glancing behind her, Gen saw Michael had paused just outside the doorway where Krysta faced him, still with that wicked smile to her lips.

"I may come across some other pieces you might be interested in," she said, putting her hand on his upper arm casually and running her fingers down to his wrist.

What a slut! God, the very sight had Gen shuddering.

"You have my number," he replied.

"That I do."

Seriously grossed out, Gen turned and stalked toward the elevator, hoping to get away from them before they started going at it right out there in the hallway. She mashed the button to call the elevator a few times before Michael joined her, and they both got in without saying a word.

"She was like such a friggin’ skank!" Genevieve erupted as soon as the elevator doors closed. She snatched the book from his grasp suddenly and turned it over in her hands. "Jeez, what the hell did you have to agree to do just to get this?" She tried to pry the paper off.

He jerked the package away from her as the elevator came to a halt, and they stepped out into the foyer.

"Seriously, did you have to like whore yourself out to get that book or something? Because I’m willing to bet you’ll catch a lot of diseases."

"Would you just shut the hell up already?" he said as he yanked open the car door and threw the book on the backseat. "I had to part with an obscenely large amount of money to get that book, as well as lie through my teeth about the extent of your abilities. Now get in the damn car."

She did as he asked, not saying anything else until the car was on the road once again.

"You know, she really wigged me out," Gen said, casting a wary gaze in Michael’s direction, waiting to see if he’d yell at her again. When he kept his eyes on the street and didn’t say a word, she tried again. "Didn’t she wig you out?"

"No."

"Then I guess you must not have been paying attention. She also had this creepy thing in her bathroom cabinet. I’m pretty sure she’s evil."

"I’m pretty sure you’re paranoid," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, some healthy paranoia never hurt anyone. There was this wax figure that looked like a person in there. I bet she’s got pins and stabs it or whatever they do in voodoo."

"Forget the spell book—I’m buying you a damn encyclopedia of religions so you can actually start knowing what the hell you’re talking about."

"Okay, fine, it’s not voodoo. It’s Satanism. She’s a Satanist—if I hadn’t been there as a witness, you could have been seduced into being some bondage sex slave for her cult."

"Pity that," he muttered.

Genevieve scrunched up her face. "Ew! Fine, next time we run into a slutty Satanist, I’ll just leave you to become a sacrifice to her dark lord or whatever."

"She isn’t a Satanist."

"You don’t know that."

He rolled his eyes. "I think there’d have to be a Satan for her to worship as a Satanist."

"There isn’t?"

"No."

"Oh. Are there demons or monsters or something? ‘Cause she might be one of those."

"She isn’t."

"Well that just makes her scarier ‘cause we don’t know what she is." Gen checked the dashboard clock. "I’ve basically missed English but at least I can make lunch. Maybe they got Peyton to eat with us...you’d better hope so, or I’m turning you into a toad for ruining my day."

Ahead, Gen saw the dark brown brick of her high school come into view, then disappear as they passed it.

"Hey!" She twisted in her seat to see the school grow smaller and smaller, and then swung back around to confront Michael. "What the hell?"

"I’m getting you lunch."

"Uh, I can eat lunch back at school. It’s very modern—they have a cafeteria and everything, so if you insist on spending more money on me today, you can just give me the cash to do it myself." He didn’t slow the car down however, and instead drove them into the downtown core where various fast food places dotted the main road. He swung the car into a Wendy’s drive-thru and proceeded to order without so much as asking her what she wanted. He seemed to be buying enough for at least half a dozen people, however, so she figured she’d have some options.

"Can you just let me take it with me?" she asked once they were on the road again, bags of food sitting on her lap. "I’m gonna miss my next class."

"You’re not going to your next class."

Though it was true she was in a moving vehicle, pushing open the door and jumping out still seemed more enjoyable than staying with him any longer. She recognized the road that led to his house, and she felt the desire to leap to her doom rise.

"This is officially kidnapping."

Michael pulled the car to a halt in his driveway, but made no move to get out. Instead, he turned to face her, and Gen shifted her gaze away, not liking the serious look to his expression.

"You haven’t been practicing any of the exercises I’ve told you to." He said it as less of an accusation and more a statement of fact.

"Of course I have—"

"No, you haven’t."

Sure, she hadn’t even attempted any of the minor spells and meditations he’d told her to...but then she didn’t do her algebra homework either. Nothing new there, and certainly not worthy of a lecture.

Though she expected him to go on about that for awhile, he caught her off guard with a sudden change of subject.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"Uh, breakfast."

"You’re lying."

She rolled her eyes. "God, why do you bother asking me something if you’ve already decided the answer?"

"When was the last time you ate?" he repeated, more forcefully this time.

Genevieve had to pause and think on it. She just hadn’t felt very hungry lately—she hardly saw why he cared so much.

"I don’t know...yesterday?"

"You’ve noticeably lost weight—you’ve barely eaten in weeks."

"Your concern is really touching, Michael," she snapped as she turned to look at him.

"And you’re having nightmares."

She swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything.

"This needs to stop."

Her gaze dropped downward and she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? So what if she didn’t eat? Couldn’t sleep? Felt physically sick at the thought of trying anything else from a damn spell book? He was ready to watch her die before—in fact, she wouldn’t put it past him to try killing her himself—so why bother her with this?

"You don’t understand." She spoke quietly rather than yell at him and chewed nervously at her bottom lip. "You don’t know what it’s like...the magic, when I do stuff...it’s like I’m not completely me. Like there’s someone else there. And I hurt those people, and..." Tears filled her eyes, but she pushed them back, forced them away—vowed she wouldn’t ever cry in front of him again. "And my friend is dead, and he wouldn’t be if all this hadn’t happened. So no, I don’t much feel like eating or practicing your stupid spells, and yeah, I have a lot of nightmares."

"And this needs to stop. We don’t have time for this." He suddenly snatched up the bags of food, grabbed the book from the back, and got out of the car.

What a fucking prick.

She clutched her bag and got out of the car as well, slammed the door behind her, and stalked toward him just as he headed inside. Dammit, he could fucking well go to hell! A couple of moments of almost humanity had nearly tricked her, but then she saw his true face again, and she was ready to kill him.

"I don’t see why it’s any of your goddamn business. You don’t care anyway..." Her voice trailed off as she walked inside and saw Sage at the back of the room by the punching bag. Boxing gloves on, she hit and kicked, beating the substitute opponent into submission with sweat dripping off her forehead. Gen almost did a double take—gone were her shoulder-length black braids, and instead her hair was straight and cut quite short. But otherwise she looked the same...

Except for a scarily determined look to her eyes.

Even when Genevieve offered a hello, Sage didn’t glance in her direction. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on her targets.

"Sage, lunch," Michael called, emptying the bags of take-out onto the table, and Sage dropped what she was doing to walk over in silence. Michael thrust a bowl of salad and a baked potato to an empty spot and gestured for Genevieve to sit down.

Gen dropped her bag at the door and took the seat across from Sage, narrowly missing being hit by the pack of plastic utensils Michael threw at her.

"Haven’t seen you at school," Genevieve ventured, attempting a casual tone as she poured a packet of dressing on the salad.

"Haven’t been there," Sage returned, eyes on her food.

"Taking the semester off?"

Sage shook her head. "Just dropped a couple of classes I didn’t need. Mom hired a tutor for a few weeks for the others."

"Don’t you need a certain number of hours in the class to get credit for it?"

She shrugged. "They said as long as I pass the exam this semester, they don’t care."

Genevieve had what seemed like a million questions for her. How was she doing? Would she ever come back to school? How long had she been coming to Michael’s without telling anyone? But Sage had never seemed to want to talk to her before, and she didn’t imagine she’d be doing so now. Gen gazed back down at her salad and stabbed the lettuce a few times with her fork. She wasn’t hungry, but who knew what else he’d throw at her if she didn’t eat, so she forced down a mouthful.

"How’s Levi?" Sage asked

Gen glanced at her to see she still hadn’t looked up.

"He’s okay." Gen tried to hide her surprise when she answered; she’d never heard Sage even breathe his name before, let alone ask after him...

She’s probably guilty...God knows I am...

"He goes to a lot of counselling, but he’s doing okay."

Sage nodded absently and Gen wasn’t sure if she was really listening or not. But she didn’t say anything further.

They ate in silence for a few moments, then the front door opened.

"Ooh, good, lunch," Merri said brightly as she strolled into the room, plopped down on the seat next to Gen, and took a bowl of salad.

"Did you know he was going to kidnap me?" Gen asked Merri, noting that the other girl didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her there.

"I knew he wanted to get that book and when Lev told me you left, I figured you came here." Merri’s gaze drifted to Sage for a moment, and Gen did detect surprise there; at least she had been truthful when she said she hadn’t seen Sage lately.

"Hi Sage," Merri said.

Sage gave a weak, half smile and nodded her hello.

Meredith turned her eyes to Michael. "Did you get it?"

"Of course."

"The chick he bought it from was a Satanist skank who was hitting on him," Gen informed her. Merri burst out laughing and even Sage cracked a grin.

"She wasn’t a Satanist," he corrected her once again, leaning back on the counter and taking a bite from his burger.

"Fine, but she was definitely a skank," Gen countered.

"Oh, Gen, I got you something." Merri reached into her pocket suddenly. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and tossed the scrap onto the table. Gen snatched it up and found a phone number in scrawled letters.

"What’s this?"

Merri had a mischievous glint to her eyes. "Peyton’s number."

"You got her number?"

"And she has yours. Of course, she also has Levi’s, but she asked for yours first. She’s going to call us to plan a study date."

"Awesome." It seemed despite Michael’s attempts to ruin her life, the powers that be had cut her a break after all.

Gen started as there was a sudden knock at the door, and a quick glance to Sage and Merri told her they didn’t know who it would be either. Michael’s expression hadn’t changed, however, and he left the kitchen to answer the door.

"Did he make a friend?" Gen whispered, but Merri shrugged, seeming just as confused as she was.

Gen strained to make out words when she heard Michael speaking, but all she caught was another male voice answering his. A few moments later Michael returned with another guy following. A bit shorter than their host, a few years younger, and with gentle dark eyes that travelled over each of the girls in turn, Gen was certain she’d never seen him before, and despite the fact he didn’t seem remotely threatening, his presence sent a chill through her. At Michael’s, she was in a strange little world outside the real one...but with someone new present, everything felt different.

"It’s everything I could gather," the guy said, and Gen realized his gaze had locked onto a large, legal-sized folder in Michael’s hands, which she didn’t remember him having before he went to the door.

As Michael opened the folder and rifled through the papers within, the new guy returned his attention to Genevieve and the others.

"You’re them?" he asked.

"Uh…" Gen looked to Merri for help, but she didn’t seem to be any clearer on what to say.

"Yes," Michael answered for them without looking up.

"Cool. I’m Thad, by the way."

Gen nodded slowly, unsure if maybe that name was supposed to mean something to her or not. Merri took the initiative and introduced the three of them, and had just finished when Michael suddenly slammed the folder shut and tossed it on the table.

"There’s no address," he said, anger lacing his words.

Thad shrugged. "That’s everything he could possibly tell you, anyway. He just doesn’t want to get in the middle of this, Michael."

"I don’t care what he wants—we need to see him."

"But that’s everything he knows. He hasn’t seen her in years—it’s not like he can magically get in touch with her."

"Um, can someone maybe tell us what you’re talking about?" Gen cut in, eyes going from Michael to Thad, then back to Michael again.

"It’s this guy," Thad said. "Shaw. Apparently he used to know the other one of you."

Silence met his words as Gen shot a quick look to Michael, then Sage and Merri, who seemed equally confused.

"One of us?" Merri ventured when no one else would.

"You didn’t tell them?" Thad said to Michael, brow knitted as he raked his fingers back through his dark hair. "Oh, great."

What the hell?