9. Sammie

CHAPTER 9

SAMMIE

B ass reverberates through my chest, rattling my heart between my ribs. I'm pretty sure the speakers are about to explode. Serena hands me a red cup. Its pale yellow watery contents slosh as she releases her hand. I take a sip.

The bitter taste of cheap beer coats my tongue and lips. Ugh. I place it on the small table holding snacks behind where we stand, waiting for some classmates of Serena's. I could think of so many better ways to spend my Saturday night, but here we are.

"Come on, girl; at least have one drink and try to have fun." Serena bumps into me, her megawatt smile plastered over her pretty face, her long dark hair curled and around her shoulders. The dress and boots she is wearing are not even warm enough to smother out the goosebumps that line her skin, but she doesn't seem to notice. I pull my coat around myself tighter and inch toward the bonfire in the center of the party.

In the midst of someone's enormous backyard, with dustings of a failed snowfall, hay bales line the grassy area, holding up dozens of chatty students. A giant pile of firewood sits beyond the circle of hay bales by the tall fence lined with shaped topiary plants sitting in white rock. A wooden platform holds the DJ, and in front of it is a wide dance floor made of polished wood. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble for this party.

The house behind me is impressive, with its original historical features well-preserved and painted grey with white trim. The homes in Castleton are well-kept. It is so lovely to see heritage remembered and honored.

"You look like you would rather be anywhere else but here," a guy says, stopping at my side, drink in hand.

I turn to face him and offer a smile. "That obvious?" I chuckle.

His green eyes find mine, and he runs a hand through his dark hair. "Did you want to dance?"

"Oh, god no. Sorry."

He laughs, throwing his head back a little, and takes a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

That came out wrong. "I mean, I don't dance."

"Oh, so not just with me, then?"

"If I danced, you would be a contender." I try to fix my mistake and wish I hadn't the instant the words leave my mouth. As handsome and fun as he might be, whatever is happening here is awkward.

"Noted." His smile radiates happiness. Still, all I want to do is make space between us.

"Excuse me, I need to find my friend; I have her things." I pat my oversized pocket where Serena's keys and purse sit.

"Enjoy your night." He tilts his head. "I didn't even get your name."

"Sammie." I force a smile and turn to leave.

"Declan, in case you were wondering," he calls after me, holding his hand above his head in a casual wave.

I wasn't.

I wander back inside to find my best friend talking with three guys. She's always been more outgoing than me, but she doesn't date. Ever since we were old enough to talk about boys, she wasn't interested. We were thirteen when she moved onto my street, back in South Burlington.

She'd been in a bad place when her and her mom moved onto the street. Something about her friend back in her old town getting sick; I'm not sure, she wouldn't talk about it. Still, she leans into the conversation with the three guys she is chatting with, each of them intently listening to what she is saying. Like they are mesmerized.

I walk over and stop by her side. She cuts off the last word and swings an arm over my shoulders. "As I was saying, boys, this is my bestie, Sammie."

Three sets of eyes settle on my face. Heat floods my entire body, leaving my stomach in a tight coil. I wish I didn't have to do the outgoing thing when I am around her, especially with guys. I hate it.

"Just telling the guys here about your beef with Sullivan."

My mouth gapes.

"I—" I huff a half-hearted chuckle. "I don't have a beef with the professor." I shake my head as the words come out, as if that will reenforce the sentiment that I am not at odds with a member of the faculty.

If only they knew what my actual sentiments were toward Lewis, I doubt I would even be here, flanked by three guys in what is starting to feel like a matchmaking setup by Serena.

"I totally saw him call you out like three times already, and we are only two weeks into the semester," the guy on my right says, his blue eyes lit up with self-assurance that plants him on my avoid-at-all-costs list.

"Well, to be fair, I used my phone in a cell-free lecture hall at the time," I say, the words weaker than I planned.

"Like, who doesn't take their cell to class? He must be like some ancient relic to think students are going to not have their phones turned on in class. It's 2024, for god's sake. Not the 1900s." He laughs, nodding as his friends agree in unison.

Heat coils in my gut. Their disrespectful tone and behavior are everything that is wrong with these parties. These people. Young guys have always annoyed me. They're never interested in anything past the next score or party. All fun and no future. No ambition.

I sigh and turn, walking away to the exit. I would rather sit on the front steps in the frigid air and wait than listen to this diatribe.

"Hey, babe," Serena calls out after me. Her footsteps quicken as she catches up to me, grabbing my arm. "Where are you going?"

"I'll wait outside; this is not my scene. I'm done."

"You're joking, right?" Her tone is flat, her face twisted in annoyance. She can stay as long as she likes; I brought my book.

"Nope, take your time. I'm quite content with hanging out in Velaris, thanks. No teenage idiots in sight."

Groaning, she walks back inside. I make it out the front door and find a place on the porch—the swing. Two large navy blankets lay draped over the back, and I lay one over the seat of the chair and across the back. I wrap the second around my shoulders and settle into the seat. I pull out my novel and open it where the bookmark sits, leaning back into the warmth of the thick wool blanket.

Disbelief thoroughly suspended and the rainbow bridge about to be overrun by the enemies of Rhys and Feyre, my blissful existence is disturbed by two guys. Both reek of alcohol as they swagger on unreliable legs in my direction.

"Well, what do we have here?" the one on the left says, slapping the second boy's back. He teeters on his feet and looks like he is about to lose his stomach on the porch, but he straightens and staggers over, stopping inches from the porch swing. I grab my legs and tuck up tighter in the seat.

"You look like you want some company," he says, leaning down. His putrid hot breath hits my face, and I suppress a gag.

I slide the bookmark between the pages and close the book, resting it on my lap. Maybe if I am polite, they will leave me alone.

"Come on, girl, we can show you a good time," the boy on the right says, trying to wink, but looking like half his face is paralyzed.

I grimace and shake my head. "No thanks, I'm good."

"Huh, that's what you think. The nerdy ones always think that."

"We can show you, you'll see," the boy on the left slurs and grabs my arm.

"Hey, get off me." I try to pull my arm from his grip. But his friend pulls the blanket from around me and I almost slide from the seat. "Stop it, leave me alone!"

"You won't be saying that in a few minutes, girl," one slurs.

"We are gonna rock your world," the other says, tracing a finger over my cheek and down my jaw. I struggle in the grip of the guy still holding me and try to reach my bag to hit him with. It's too far away.

Shit.

"I promise, this will be the best night of your life," the guy holding my arm says.

"I am not going anywhere with you two."

"Sure you are. It won't even take that long." One snorts. The other starts laughing. They high-five in front of me and turn back. "Come on, don't be a killjoy."

I grab my pendant, heart hammering in my chest, bile rising. The silver between my fingers warms. There is no way I want them to lay a finger on me. I could try screaming, but the music is so loud no one would ever hear me. They most likely thought of that.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I struggle in the boy's grip again; he's too strong.

They drag me across the porch and to the front stairs. Nobody else is out here. Everyone is either inside behind the curtain-obscured windows or in the backyard.

No one is coming.

Digging my heels into the ground, I close my eyes. Hot tears well up before streaming down both cheeks. How is this happening? Every shallow breath burns. Straining against their hold, I lose my footing as we descend the steps. A car door opens. I open my eyes, pushing backward with my feet as they try to push me into the brown station wagon.

Shit.

No, no, no, no.

"Take your hands off her." The low voice is raw, almost feral. But feminine. Serena.

One of the boys whips around, letting my arm go. He swaggers to where she stands. Her eyes are laced with fire, drilling into his. Her hands are balled into fists at her side.

"Now we don't have to share." He grabs her arm.

She tracks her gaze to his grip before meeting his eyes. Her eyes dilate, the pupils almost blacking out her irises altogether. "Take your hands off me, now."

He straightens and removes his hand, stepping back.

Serena steps into the second boy's space. His focus swings from her to his stunned friend.

"I said, let her go," she growls. The blackness is completely swallowing her brown irises now.

Like his friend, he straightens and lets go, moving out of my space.

"Get in your car and drive home. Don't make any stops. Don't talk to anyone. Go home, go to bed, and when you wake up, you won't remember a thing about this party or the people you met."

"Yes, ma'am," they say in unison.

Her eyes are fire-loaded. I move away from the car, and the two still-intoxicated boys hop into their car and drive away.

"What the hell?" I ask.

Serena stares at the car as it disappears before turning to face me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What just happened?"

She sighs and motions for us to go back up to the porch. I follow her lead and sit beside her on the swing. She plays with the belt on her coat for a moment before she says, "How long have you known you were a witch?"

My breath catches and my mouth gapes for the second time tonight. What?

Serena tilts her head, resembling a momma with a little kid who's been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Most of my life." My words are a strangled whisper.

She nods.

"You have magic, too?"

"I do. But it's not something that I use very often, and I definitely do not tell others about it."

"So, you are a witch, also?"

She wraps her coat around her body and ties the belt over it. "I guess you could say that."

"What is your power like? I mean, what type do you have?"

Her eyes narrow and her brows lower, concern wrapping her face.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm not like you, Sammie. Not all sunshine and rainbows like you, girl."

Huffing through a nervous laugh, I fold my arms over my chest. "What do you mean?"

"I am a shadow witch. But I don't practice, at least I haven't for years, dark magic. I haven't wanted or needed to."

A shadow witch—those are the ones who are keeping tabs on me. That's what Lewis and Denver said. From the way they spoke of them, they were bad. And not in the way that vampires and witches generally hate each other.

"Can you—" Do I want to know the answer to this next question? I have to ask.

"Can I what, girl?" she says, running a hand through her long dark hair.

"Can you sense other species? I have trouble with it because I haven't been using my magic for so long. But can you?"

She stares at me for what feels like an age, her mouth a thin line, her face like stone. "You mean like your vampire professor, Mr. Sullivan?"

My breath stops.

She knows.

She knew.