1. Evalee

EVALEE

A bowl of cereal is balanced on the steel table in front of me, my pet cat is watching me from the corner like a weirdo, and I also have open a copy of The Proper Way to do a Magic Lobotomy , my magic wand, and the Mystic Willow Bay Daily newspaper. The top headline: “ Another body missing from the morgue! Cops say decaying spell went awry, but town members concerned we have a rapid vampire problem !”

I have exactly fifty minutes to read through the newspaper and a chapter of my textbook, finish my breakfast, and get dressed for the one morning class I have today. Like usual, I’m running way behind schedule and should’ve probably skipped having breakfast in the basement with my older sister, but I’m the only person she has to talk to at the moment.

“Another dead body’s gone missing,” I mutter as I skim through the article. “I need to put some more charms up.”

My cat, Maple, runs across the room and skitters around my legs as I turn another page.

“Charms aren’t going to stop anyone from stealing me,” my sister says through a dreary sigh. “Or from a decaying spell.”

“It’ll keep you better hidden, though.”

No suspects have been arrested. No sign of suspicious foul play. I roll my eyes. Only in Mystic Willow Bay would missing bodies be considered nothing to be alarmed about.

I wouldn’t normally concern myself with bodies poofing into thin air, but now that I have a dead body to worry about, I want to find the culprit. It won’t be the first time I went out searching to solve a mystery.

Back in middle school, a lot of lockers were robbed, including mine. When I found out the person had not only stolen my new leather jacket and the Fog Inducing Ring from my grandma for my birthday, I went ballistic and set out on a mission to find the perpetrator. After spending over a week interrogating every single person I went to school with, I discovered that the lockers were robbed because of a hazing going on in the popular crowd. While I didn’t out any of the participants, I accidentally left a trail of clues on my blog that the principal found, which led to some suspensions and a few expulsions.

Needless to say, my already sucky popularity status went down to an eating-by-the-dumpsters-at-lunchtime level. I thought my social life—and any hope of ever having friends—was over at that point. However, it turned out not to be as sucky of a year as I thought, because that was the year I met Hunter.

Le sigh . Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. The only guy who’s ever unknowingly broke my heart over and over again.

“If you don’t put the newspaper away, you’re going to end up not having time to do your homework,” my sister’s tired voice yanks me out of memory lane.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I try to shove thoughts aside of body thieves, memories of living in Loserville, and hopeless, will-never-progress-to-anything-more-than-a-friendship crushes, and concentrate on reading through yesterday’s assigned reading. But books about magical lobotomy aren’t the most entertaining, and I quickly find myself looking more at the photos and less at the scientific words filling up the pages.

“Some of the photos in here are super disgusting.” I crinkle my nose at a photo of a guy getting his head cut open. “I seriously think my professor might be twisted in the mind for making us look at these.” I slant closer to get a better look at the picture while shoveling a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. Milk dribbles onto my sister’s leg, and I quickly wipe it up, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Ew, I can see his brain.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she murmurs. “The fact that you’re eating while looking at that book, or that you’re looking at that book while I’m stuck lying on this damn table.”

I pat her cold, bluish foot. “Relax, big sis. I won’t make you look at the photos.”

“That’s not why I’m worried.” Her purplish-blue lips move like a marionette puppet. “I’m worried you’ll turn me into your test dummy.”

I recline in my chair with my fingers pressed to my mouth in mock offense. “I’d never do that to you.” I lower my hand and turn the page, smiling to myself. “Not while you are still coherent, anyway.”

“Wow, Evalee. I’m glad you find amusement in my pain.” Her voice cracks, making me feel like the biggest asshole ever.

While she’s been a bit temperamental lately, she does have a reason to be, considering her circumstances.

“Ry, I’m so sorry.” I stand up and lean over the table to meet her gaze. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” I gesture around the damp, murky basement, lined with a few shelves, boxes, and a washer and dryer that look straight out of the eighties. “This place is so depressing. I hate that you’re down here twenty-four seven.”

“God, so do I.” Her open eyes focus on the florescent light above the table, making her look like a possessed doll.

Even dead, she still resembles the gorgeous older sister I grew up idolizing. The only difference now is her long, blonde hair is lily white; her big, blue eyes are a tiny bit bloodshot; and her golden tanned skin is pale. Still, she could definitely pull off the whole hot zombie look. That is, if I can figure out how to complete the spell to bring her back to life. Until I do, she’s stuck on this table every day of every hour, waiting for me to visit, since I’m the only person who was graced with the lovely gift of being able to talk to the dead. Insert sarcasm on the lovely part.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to be able to talk to my sister, even after she died, yet my gift definitely has down sides. Like every time I go to a funeral and have to pretend the deceased body in the coffin isn’t begging me to save them from being buried alive.

I used to try to carry out their wishes, and even attempted to help my grandpa flee. Let’s just say mourning families don’t take too well to some stranger passing along a pleading, “save me” message from their dead loved ones. And my parents weren’t very thrilled about me trying to drag my grandpa out of his coffin. Afterward, they took me to a bunch of specialists to try to find out what was wrong with me.

Each specialist had their own theories and treatments; some of which included cutting open my head. Fortunately, my parents weren’t total nutjobs and told them no freaking way. I stopped seeing specialists after that and was allowed to live a normal life. Well, normal except for the rare occasion when I’m near a dead body. I also get the occasional warning to be on my best behavior whenever I attend a funeral.

“The lights are so dim down here,” my sister gripes, yanking me out of my thoughts.

I rest my elbows beside her head. “I’m sorry. If I could keep you someplace else, I would. But this is the only place that’s both safe and has the right temperature to …” I press my lips together, worried finishing that sentence will only upset her more.

“Keep my rotting stench under control.” She heaves a heavy sigh, her bloodshot eyes drifting in my direction. “Look, I’m sorry I’m getting upset. I don’t know why I’m being so moody. I was never this bitchy and whiney when I was alive.”

“No, you weren’t.” I place my hand over her clammy one and offer a smile. “But that’s okay. Death is a legit reason to be a little bitchy.”

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean I need to be bitchy to you. Not when you’re trying to bring me back to life.” Hope sparkles in her lifeless eyes.

I force a smile, but my stomach knots with nerves. While I have been trying to bring my sister back to life, I’m far from completing the spell. A spell that’s extremely complicated for a powerful witch, let alone someone like me who’s been cursed since birth with weak, uncontrollable powers.

Yep, on top of being the only witch and paranormal creature in all of Mystic Willow Bay—that I know of—who can chat it up with dead bodies, I’m also known as the town’s magic klutz because of my sucky skills at casting spells, brewing potions, and dancing naked under the full moon.

Just kidding on the last part. I don’t really dance under the full moon naked. Well, unless I’ve had a few too many drinks and decide to play a game of truth or dare.

“What’s with the frown?” My sister’s fingers twitch beneath mine, a sign she’s probably trying to put her hand over mine to comfort me. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tries, she won’t be able to move anything except her eyes and mouth, and only I can witness that. To everyone else, she looks exactly as she is—a dead body lying on a cold steel table with my half-eaten breakfast and a book about removing parts of the human brain.

“I was just thinking about some of the ingredients I need for the spell,” I lie, turning back to my book to avoid eye contact. Maple takes off out of the room, knocking a broom down on her way. “There’s some really weird stuff required.”

“Like what?” she asks. When I don’t respond, mostly because I don’t want to worry her, she adds, “If you tell me, maybe I can help you.”

She may be right. After all, my sister was what a lot of townspeople considered a witch genius.

“I need a bottle of moonlight, which I have no clue how to get since no supply store has it.” I pace the table, counting down on my fingers. “A demon scale, which I have no clue how I’m going to get that one. A mermaid’s scale, and every mermaid I’ve asked so far has told me no in a very not-so-nice way. Seriously, mermaids have dirty, potty, pee mouths.”

She chuckles, life fleetingly sparkling in her eyes. “Dirty, potty, pee mouths? What are you, like, seven years old?”

“No, but it got you to laugh.” Smiling, I stop beside her head. “I haven’t heard you laugh since I brought you down here.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I’ve been having a pity party. It’s been a long three weeks.”

“I’ve been told that while you’re dead time moves a lot slower.” I bite on my thumbnail, debating whether or not to ask the question that’s been tickling at the tip of my tongue all morning. “I know you told me a few days ago that you haven’t, but I wanted to check and see if, by chance, you remembered how you died … Mom called me this morning and told me that the police declared your death accidental—that you accidentally cast the spell on yourself.”

Her gaze returns to the ceiling, the spark of life in her eyes extinguishing. “I’m sure if they declared it, then that’s what happened. The police aren’t morons.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” And not my opinion, or anyone else who pays attention to the abundance of accidental deaths that have happened in Mystic Willow Bay over the last seven to eight months.

Sure, we’ve always had a higher death rate than any human town, but that death rate has frequently spiked way, way up lately. And many of the deaths have been super strange, like my sister who was found petrified to death beside her car. There are only two known ways that a person can die of petrification. One being from a spell, and the other from ingesting bark from the ancient aurora tree growing in the center of Mystic Willow Bay Forest.

At first, the police thought perhaps someone snuck up on my sister and attacked her with the spell. After looking into the details of her death, though, they decided she unintentionally disarmed her wand and blasted herself with the spell. I’m not buying into that theory, and anyone who knew Ryleigh would agree with me.

“You’re way too smart and talented to accidentally blast yourself with a spell,” I tell her. “That sounds more like something I’d do.”

Her gaze darts to me. “How many times have I told you to stop being so hard on yourself?”

“I’m not being hard on myself. I just know what I am and don’t like pretending I’m anything different.”

“You’re not what you think you are. You just have a warped self-perception because of all those years of specialists and kids lying to you, telling you how weird you are. They don’t get that you are just a little different, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Just a little different?” I question, motioning at the basement. “I’m standing in a basement, eating cereal and staring at photos of people with their heads cut open while talking to my dead sister’s body. I am a total weirdo.”

The edges of her lips droop. “No, you’re not. And I know a ton of people who’d agree with me.”

“You little liar.” I flash her a teasing smile. “But that’s okay. I love you for lying and trying to cheer me up.”

“I’m not lying,” she insists. “You’re not a weirdo.”

“Yes, I am. And I already accepted that a long time ago.” I lean over, resting my arms on the edge of the table. “I am who I am, and that will never change. Honestly, I kind of don’t want to. At least with some things.”

“I don’t want you to change. I just want you to realize how amazing you are.” Her gaze strays toward her feet and the corners of her lips tug into a ghost smile. “And here’s someone who will back me up.”

My cat named Penny meows as she creeps from the corner, staring at something over my shoulder.

I whirl around while reaching for my wand, worried one of my roommates got past my illusion spell and found the basement. But my fear goes poof at the sight of the lean, tall, and ridiculously sexy wizard standing in front of me, who knows about my weird little gift and me digging up my sister’s dead body from the grave.

I move my fingers away from my wand. “Oh, it’s just you.”

Hunter—aka one of my best friends in the entire world, who I’m secretly in love with—presses his hand to his chest, pretending to feign hurt. “Just me? You wound my heart deeply, Evalee.”

“Easy, wannabe Shakespeare. I reached my cheesiness tolerance with you last night.” I sneak a glance at my reflection on the steel table. My long, light brown hair is a tangled mess, bags reside under my iridescent eyes, and my skin looks paler than a ghost. I look like a hot mess.

He taps his finger to his lips, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Why? What happened last night?”

I turn my back to him, mostly to hide any hurt that might be rising in my expression. “Like you don’t know.”

He moves up behind me, his arm brushing against my hip as he rests his hand on the table beside me. “I said a lot of cheesy things last night, so please enlighten me on which one you’re talking about.”

“All of them.” I make eye contact with my sister, and I swear the redness in her eyes has faded into a sea of pity. “You’re seriously the biggest flirt I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, I thought you liked that about me?” His tone carries a hint of playfulness. “If you want me to stop, you can always say so.”

My sister gives me a pressing look, silently begging me to do it.

Ha, yeah right. The last thing my popular, adored by everyone, magically skilled, too gorgeous and charming for his own good friend wants to hear is that his spacey, uncoordinated, average looking, hangs out with dead bodies in the basement friend has secretly been in love with him since she was fourteen. Yep, I bet he’d be doing cartwheels and shaking pompoms right after he ran away screaming.

“If you want to flirt, then go ahead.” My eyelids involuntarily shut as his breath dusts across my neck.

For a lunatic of a moment, I get lost in the scent of his cologne, the feel of his chest brushing against my back, and the daydreaming images of me backing him into the wall and crashing my lips against his. Then I open my eyes to see my dead sister watching me curiously, and reality douses over me, reminding me of who I am—a person Hunter sees as a friend.

Clearing my throat, I step forward to put some distance between us, and then turn around to face him. “Just don’t come complaining to me about all the girls stalking you. It’s your own damn fault for leading them on.”

His lips part in shock. “How the hell do I lead them on?”

Jeez. Guys can be so dense sometimes.

“By flirting with them and telling them they’re pretty.”

He aims a finger at me, seeming a little irritated, which is strange for Hunter since he’s usually all jokes and smiles. “Hey, I don’t tell them they’re pretty.”

“You so do.”

“Do not.” His lips expand into a charming grin as he sweeps his chin length blond hair out of his eyes. “In fact, you’re the only girl I’ve ever told is pretty.”

I lightly pinch his chest, causing him to chuckle. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this.”

“I’m not trying to charm my way out of anything. I’m giving you a compliment,” he insists, stealing a bit of my cereal. Then his face bunches in disgust. “That’s super soggy.”

I try to breeze over his compliment and not let my stomach turn into a bundle of crazy butterflies. As much as I’d love to get all girlie, girlie, ah, that’s so sweet, let me swoon now, I’ve known Hunter since middle school, and he’s been a natural flirt pretty much since freshman year when he went from a gangly, bean pole to a lean, too-hot-for-his-own-good hottie.

Don’t blush or give away any sign of swooniness. Focus on the conversation, Evalee. Don’t be a spaz and lose your best friend.

I take the spoon away from him and toss it back into the bowl. “Well, it has been sitting in the bowl for, like, an hour.”

He spits the cereal out on the floor then wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “What the hell, Evalee? That’s disgusting. Why do you even have it down here?”

“What? You didn’t have to eat it.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve warned me not to when you saw me reaching for the spoon.”

I bite back a grin. “I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I took a bite, like, ten minutes ago, and it tasted okay. So maybe you’re just super soggy-cereal sensitive.”

“That’s not even a real thing.” He gives me a tolerant look. “And for future reference, if cereal has been sitting in a bowl for even half an hour, it’s probably soggy, and you should warn your most awesome friend in the world not to eat it, or he might just lose some of his awesomeness.”

“Why? Does soggy cereal have magical, awesome stealing powers?” I joke.

“Actually, smartass, it does.” He smirks as he lightly tugs on a strand of my hair. “But you really shouldn’t be ingesting milk that’s been out of the fridge for that long.”

My brows pull together. “I thought it took a lot longer for milk to spoil.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

My sister lets out an exhausted groan and Penny rolls her eyes—I swear she does.

“Oh, my God, I take it back,” my sister whines. “You are a little weirdo. And so is Hunter. Seriously, how can you two worry about the expiration of milk when you both just ate cereal that’s two inches away from my rotting corpse leg?”

I turn around to shoot her a warning look. “Don’t start on me about this again.”

Her eyes glimmer mischievously. “Start on what? I didn’t really say anything.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeah, but you were about to mention that thing you’re always bugging me about, which you’re completely wrong about.”

“I’m not completely wrong about it,” she insists. “Hunter’s in love with you, and you need to get your head out of Low Self-Esteem Land and realize this so you can make your move before someone else does.”

I sneak a casual glance in Hunter’s direction and cringe when I note him observing me intently. Yeah, I know he can’t hear my sister, but that doesn’t make me any less squirrely.

“Is Ryleigh talking to you?” he asks without removing his gaze from mine.

I nod, fidgeting with a leather band on my wrist. “Yeah, she’s been pretty chatty this morning.”

“I have, huh?” Ryleigh grumbles, going back into miserable mode again.

“That’s a good sign, right? That she isn’t going to fade anytime soon?” Hunter asks, moving up to the table to glance at the opened textbook.

I choke up at the reminder that, if I don’t save her, eventually Ryleigh will rot into bones that I’ll no longer be able to chat with.

Not wanting to worry either of them, I keep an upbeat tone as I lie, plastering a fake smile on my face. “Yeah, that’s definitely a good sign.”

Concern swirls in Hunter’s eyes as he looks at me. When his lips start to part, I aim a pleading look at him.

Please, please, please don’t talk about this in front of Ryleigh, I silently beg.

“So, what class is this for?” He breezily changes the subject, glancing down at the textbook again.

I could hug him right now for being able to understand what I need without me actually having to verbalize it. “It’s for Experimental Magic Insanity Therapy.”

“You’re taking that class? Since when?”

“Since I signed up for it at the beginning of fall semester.”

“You never mentioned taking it.”

“I didn’t really think it was important.” I reach for the book as he puts his hand down on mine.

“You told me every other class you were taking”—his intense gaze carries mine—“except this one. Why is that?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” I reply with a shrug. Inside, my heart hammers deafeningly, though.

Please don’t figure out the real reason. That sometimes I secretly wonder if a experimental treatment could cure me from being the town’s magic ditz.

“No, it didn’t. And it’s weird that you’re taking this class when you hate everything that experimental treatment represents.” Worry lines crease his forehead. “Eva, is this about?—”

“It’s not about anything. I was bored when I signed up for the class; that’s all.” I wiggle my hand out from under his then shut the book. “I have to get to class. I’m running late already.” Swallowing the guilt crammed into my throat, I hug my books to my chest and hurry toward the crooked stairway that leads to the main floor of the house.

Truthfully, I know my fleeing escape won’t do any good. Even before we started college a month ago and decided to rent a house together, Hunter never let me off the hook from much of anything. And now I don’t even have the option of running away and hiding out at my own place.

He chases after me, his boots thudding against the floor. “Don’t run off. We need to talk.”

I quicken my pace, taking the stairs two by two. “There’s nothing to talk about. I swear.”

“Then why are you running away from me?”

“Because I don’t want to be late for class.”

“That’s not the reason.” He runs up the stairs behind me. “You’re avoiding telling me why you took that class.”

When I reach the top of the stairs, I stumble over the threshold and into the messy laundry room. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this. So I took a class about experimental magical treatments. It’s not some life changing decision.”

After tripping over three piles of dirty clothes, I make it to the hallway and scramble toward my bedroom. He jogs after me, and I take off into a run, swerving around the boxes littering the hallway.

“This isn’t just some class you took because you were bored,” he says from right behind me. “I know you, and well enough that I can figure out the real reason.”

“There isn’t a real reason. I’m not that mysterious. And you should know this by now—” I trip over a box and lose my balance. My wand and book fly from my arms. Sparks shoot from the end of my wand and blast the light green walls with spots of the most awful shade of brown.

Crap. My roommates are going to be so pissed.

But I have bigger problems to deal with right now. Like not falling flat on my face and escaping.

I move to regain my balance, but Hunter trips into me from behind. We lose our footing and both go down hard. I land flat on my back, my head knocking against the hardwood floor.

Cursing, Hunter tumbles on top of me, managing to put his hands out and stopping himself from completely crushing me. Although, I must say, if I had to die, getting crushed by him would be a pretty decent way to go; with his hair tickling my forehead, buried in his scent, squashed beneath his solid chest.

Mmmm … He smells so nice …

With a hand positioned on each side of my head, he holds his weight up and stares down at me. “Are you okay?”

Those damn butterflies I just told to shut the hell up are no longer listening to me. Thankfully, I’ve spent many years learning how to sound cool as a freaking freeze spell during hot, fiery, skin damping, breath catching Hunter moments such as these.

“Am I okay?” I playfully pat him on his scruffy cheek. “Hunter, Hunter, Hunter, my dear sweet friend, with how many times you’ve seen me bust my ass, you should know better than to even ask that question.”

He bites back his amusement. “And you should know better than to think I’ll stop asking you if you’re okay. Besides, this fall was kind of my fault.”

I nod, secretly hoping he’s forgotten about why he was chasing me. “Man, you’re such a meanie, pushing down a girl like that.”

His brow quirks. “ Push ?”

I nod, fighting back a grin. “And I always thought you were a gentleman, but I guess I was wrong. Makes me wonder what else I don’t know about you.”

An undecipherable look flashes across his expression. “Actually, there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but the idea doesn’t sit well with me. I mean, we’ve been friends for almost eight years. That has to mean we know each other inside and out, right? Then again, he doesn’t know I’m in love with him. That’s one tiny, little thing, though.

No, he has to be teasing me.

“You’re such a liar,” I say with a grin. “I know everything about you.”

“Everything, huh?” A challenge dances in his eyes. “You really think so?”

I feel like I’m walking into a trap, but I dive in, anyway, hoping to entirely distract him from the reason we fell to begin with. “Um, yeah. We’ve been friends forever; how can I not?”

His eyes twinkle wickedly. “Prove it, then. What color underwear am I wearing?”

My nose scrunches. “Ew, gross.”

His eyes narrow, but it’s a playful move. “You think my underwear is gross?”

I wrestle back the goofy, lustful smile wanting to possess my face. No, Hunter, not at all. And I’d love to see you in it.

“I don’t know. Depends on the last time you washed them.”

He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think I don’t wash my underwear?”

I shrug, the movement awkward while trapped beneath him. “I’m not sure. I don’t have any brothers, but from what Peyton tells me, boys can do some pretty disgusting things when it comes to personal hygiene. At least her brothers do.”

“That’s because Peyton’s brothers are vampires. And everyone knows vampires aren’t known for being the cleanest creatures.” As he adjusts his position, his hips lightly touch mine. A total accidental move, but the contact makes my skin glitter like pixie dust.

“And everyone knows that vampires can hear almost anything!” Peyton, one of our roommates, shouts from upstairs. “You know, for a wizard who’s supposed to be the next Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard, you really don’t seem to know very much about your own townspeople.”

I internally cringe at the mention of the title. Every decade or so, a powerful, charming wizard and witch get hand-selected by the Wizard and Witches Committee to become the Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard and Wonder Witch, which is pretty much a fancy schmancy name for being a mascot for witches and wizards. Some people view the position as gaining celebrity status, and a lot of the townspeople nearly swoon themselves to death whenever they spot the current Star Wizard, aka Hunter’s older brother.

Hunter despises the fact that his brother let the title go to his head, but what he loathes even more is knowing that this year he has a good chance of being selected as the new Star Wizard. At least, according to the rumors fluttering around town, he does.

Hunter’s expression deflates. “I’m not going to be the next Star Wizard. Even if I am, I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“What are you going to call yourself, then? The Super Duper Star Wizard?” Peyton cackles with malicious laughter. “Face it, Hunter; you’re just as egotistical as your brother. And when you officially get chosen as this town’s next Most Vain Wizard in the World, you’ll end up just like him—with a head too big to fit through a doorway.”

Hunter’s lips curl. “Don’t be bitter just because my brother broke up with you.”

“I’m not bitter!” she snaps over a loud bang. “I don’t give a flying sprite’s ass that your stupid, egotistical brother broke up with me. What I do care about is that he treats all of his old friends like shit now that he thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful.”

Hunter’s lips part, but before he can fire a comeback, I cover his mouth with my hand.

“ Let it go, ” I mouth. “ Or she’ll go on all day. ”

While Peyton’s cool and everything, she never backs down from a fight. She can’t help it, though. Stubbornness comes with the territory of being a vampire. Just like trickery is part of being a faerie. As is moodiness with wolves. And cockiness with witches and wizards. Occasionally, these traits do skip a generation, like with Opal, our other roommate who’s a faerie.

I’ve known Opal since grade school and consider her one of my closest friends. She never pulls pranks on anyone, or tricks them with glamour.

“Got nothing to say?” Peyton singsongs. “Guess that means I’m right.”

Hunter targets me with a dirty look. I keep my hand over his mouth, urging him to be quiet.

“Your silence means I win, Super Duper Star Wizard,” Peyton continues. “And you lose.”

Hunter’s lips twitch against the palm of my hand. “Please let me put her in her place,” he mumbles.

I shake my head and hold up a finger with my other hand. “ Wait for it, ” I mouth.

One, two, three seconds tick by, and then …

“Whatever, Hunter. Just give up and ruin all my fun,” Peyton huffs through the thudding of stomping footsteps.

A handful of seconds later, a door bangs shut and the house grows quiet.

I lower my hand from his lips. “She likes the thrill of a fight,” I whisper. “Take that away, and she’ll stop.”

“Or we could just take her away to a faraway land and never have to deal with her ever again,” he suggests quietly with a thoughtful grin.

“She’s not bad all the time.” I keep my voice low in case Peyton is still eavesdropping. “Just in the mornings and afternoons.”

“And nights and every other hour of every other day.” He sighs audibly when I give him a stern look. “Look, I know she’s your friend, but I don’t get why she had to move in with us.”

“Because she needed a place to stay.”

“Why, though? That part was never explained to me.”

“Sorry, but I promised Peyton I wouldn’t tell.” I offer him an apologetic smile.

He grimaces. “Can’t we at least search for another place for her? Four people in a two-bedroom house is too much. And I hate sleeping on the sofa.” He juts out his lip. “It’s lumpy.”

“It’s not lumpy. It’s got character. And you used to say it was comfortable,” I tell him, pushing his jutted lip back in. “I think you’re just being pouty because you don’t want Peyton living with us.”

“Maybe. But I do miss having a bed to sleep in.”

“You can always sleep in my bed if you want.” The words leave my lips without any forethought, and I instantly want to retract them. Not because I dislike the idea of him sharing a bed with me—under the right circumstances, that’d be a dream come true—but I’m fairly sure I’d end up lying awake all night, haunted by sexual frustration. And what happens if my hands wander and do things while I am sleeping?

Before I can joke off the remark, his eyes light up.

“Seriously?” he asks. “Because that’d be awesome.”

Please, please, witches in the sky, kill me now.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yep, mi casa es su casa. Or, I guess, mi habitación es su habitación.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles down at me, making those butterflies go all sorts of mad crazy. “You really are a great friend, Eva.”

Aw, the friend zone, a place I begrudgingly am forced to call my home.

My smile remains shining on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a clusterfuck of frownie faces. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re still saying that when I hog all the covers and take up three-quarters of the bed.”

“That’s perfectly okay with me,” he assures. “And it beats waking up every morning to Opal’s brownie licking my face.”

A giggle slips past my lips. “I’m pretty sure Starry isn’t going to stop doing that just because you’re sleeping in my room.”

“Yeah, it will,” he insists. “Because I’ll lock the door.”

“It can pick locks.”

“Since when?”

“For as long as I’ve known it.”

My eyelashes threaten to flutter as he tucks another strand of hair behind my ear. For the love of all things magical and sparkly, if he knew what his touches did to me, he’d probably never touch me again .

“It usually doesn’t do it too often because it’s not easy, and the damn thing’s lazier than a fat cat on Thanksgiving. But I’m thinking with you, it’s going to put in an A amount of effort into getting inside the bedroom where you lay your pretty head to sleep.” Whoops! I so didn’t mean for the pretty part to slip out.

His brows knit. “Why? I mean, I know my head is super pretty and everything”—his lips quirk—“but I don’t get why that’d be motivation for the brownie to pick a lock.”

I smash my lips together, restraining a laugh. “You really don’t know, huh?”

He shakes his head, his confusion doubling.

“Because it thinks you’re sexy and wants your body.” I shimmy my hips around, doing a little dance, which I’m sure looks ridiculous since I’m still pinned to the floor.

He blasts me with an unamused look. “It does not.”

“Does, too. I even saw it checking out your butt the other day.”

“You’re such a little liar.”

I shake my head, drawing an X over my heart. “I swear, I’m not lying.”

Realization slowly kicks in. “So, what you’re saying is, for the past month, a brownie—who I’ve probably changed in front of at least a half a dozen times—has been licking my face every morning because it?—”

“Wants to get in your pants,” I finish for him through a giggle.

His face scrunches up. “That’s so gross.”

“Why? I’m sure Starry’s probably pretty popular amongst the other brownies. And you’re popular with the wizards and witches. Together, you can be a total power couple.” I choke on a laugh when he glares at me.

“I’m glad you find my discomfort amusing,” he says flatly, but the sparkle in his eyes lets me know he isn’t really mad.

“I’m sorry,” I say through a laugh. “I’m not really laughing at you so much as with you.”

“That saying only works when the other person is actually laughing.”

“Oh, well, then …” I tickle his side.

He chokes on a laugh, his arms giving out on him. His body presses down on me, and I can feel every rock-hard inch of him. It’s the perfect moment until my phone goes mad crazy inside the pocket of my pajama bottoms.

“Magic, answer phone,” I say loudly over Hunter’s laughing. When the phone doesn’t answer itself, I clear my throat and try again. “Magic, answer phone.”

Nothing.

I frown. Such a simple spell, and I can never get it to work.

“Guess I’m going to have to do it old-school,” I announce with a sigh.

Hunter pushes up on his elbows, allowing me enough room to dig my phone out of my pocket. “Don’t get discouraged. Some spells take time.”

“I’m not getting discouraged,” I lie, swiping my finger across the screen. I just wish I didn’t suck so much when it comes to magic.

Balancing his weight onto one arm, he hooks a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him. “I know when you’re getting discouraged, so don’t try to lie to me.”

“Sorry,” I grumble. “You’re right; I am getting discouraged. But I don’t want to be. I just get so sick of being the ditzy, powerless witch all the time.”

“You’re not powerless or ditzy,” he says sternly. “And I don’t want you ever saying that again.”

I want to point out that almost the entire town disagrees with him, but I decide to stop wallowing in self-pity for the day. “Fine, I’ll stop saying it.”

“Good.” He presses his lips lightly to my forehead, and my heart literally dies momentarily. “Now, I’m going to show you something that will help.” Pushing back, he stands up and offers me his hand. I reach up, thread my fingers through his, and he lifts me to my feet.

“Aw, so you can be a gentleman,” I joke to lighten the sullen damper I put on the atmosphere. “Guess you sure showed me.”

A small smile graces his lips. “That’s not what I want to show you.” He gestures for me to put my other hand in his.

Unsure what he’s up to, but completely and utterly curious, I move to place my palm against his. Then I pause as my phone vibrates.

“Just a second.” I start to glance down to read the message, but he steals the phone.

“I need you to not read that yet.” He returns my phone then signals for me to place my hand in his.

“Is my weirdness rubbing off on you?” I ask, fighting the urge to read the message as my phone buzzes yet again. “Because you’re acting strangely weird right now.”

“If it was, it’d be a good thing.” He wiggles his fingers, indicating for me to take his hand.

Sighing, I slip the phone into my pocket and line my palm with his. “Okay, so what’re we doing exactly? Trying to channel spirit energy or something? Because, while I’m all for séances, I should probably get my ass ready for the class I’m already late for.”

“Just chill, okay,” he says. “I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to.”

“Aw …” I playfully pretend to be charmed. “And there’s my gentleman friend again.”

His eyes narrow into slits, but his lips threaten to turn upward. “He never left.”

“Tell that to the bump on the back of my head,” I tease, moving to touch my head, but he tightens his fingers around mine.

“Nope. I need you to hold still for this.”

“Yes, boss, sir.” I grin sweetly at him when he gives me an impatient look. “What? I thought you liked my sarcasm.”

“Most days, yes. But right now, I need you to be serious, because we’re about to do some serious things.” His grin is all sorts of wicked and conspiring.

“Serious things?” I mockingly shiver. “Now you’ve got me terrified.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he assures, gently stroking the back of my hand. “I’d never let anything hurt you.”

“Aw …” This time, my gushing is far less playful. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“Good.” He smiles, but appears nervous, which makes me a mountain of jitters. “Okay, so first, I need you to assure me that you’ll trust me and won’t freak out.”

“Um … I’m okay with the trusting part, but freaking out might be out of my control, depending on what you’re about to do.” I pause. “Although, if you told me what you’re about to do, I might be able to keep my freak out level under control.”

He swallows hard. “I want to try a connecting spell with you.”

My jaw nearly ninja punches the floor.

“A connecting spell?” I ask, positive I didn’t hear him correctly.

He bobs his head up and down. “To help you answer your phone.”

“Oh.” My brain stops functioning. Words don’t exist at the moment. And not just because I’m having one of my spaz moments.

No, my stunned confusion is mainly coming from the fact that he wants to use a connecting spell with me. A spell that allows another wizard or witch to temporarily share their magic with another. A spell that is considered intimate by many and rarely used by anyone other than couples.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Hunter says after a minute of silence ticks by. “I know it’s not a spell that’s generally used between friends, but I figured since we’re such good friends … you’d be okay with it. And I think it might help you harness some control over your powers.” He blows out a stressed breath. “You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

He starts to move his hands away from mine, but I clutch his fingers.

“No, it’s okay.” I sound embarrassingly breathless. “We can?—”

A thick, rolled up piece of newspaper smacks me in the face. My hands leave Hunter’s as I press my fingertips to my throbbing forehead.

“What the hell was that?”

“An emergency newspaper delivery,” Hunter mutters. “Are you all right?”

No , I want to say. I’m not all right! I want to go back to a minute ago, put my hands in yours, and do the connecting spell. Only, instead of you saying we were doing it because “we’re such good friends,” you’d declare your undying love for me.

Instead, I manage a, “Yeah, I’m just peachy.” Sucking in a subtle breath, I lower my hand from my head. “So, what’s the emergency?”

Hunter already has the paper in his hand and is reading the front page. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask. When he makes no move to show me, I lean over to sneak a peek.

He hurriedly puts the newspaper to his chest and swings around me, rushing toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. “You know what? I think we should get you to school before you end up missing the entire class.”

Worry clutches at my throat, and I dash after him. “Hunter, tell me what it says.”

“I can’t, Eva. Not right now, anyway.”

“Why? Is it because …?” Fear pulsates through my veins. “Did something happen to my parents?”

He hastily shakes his head but won’t look me in the eye. “No. It’s not that bad.”

I trip over the threshold as I follow him into the small kitchen area, the teal countertops littered with dirty dishes and empty food containers. “If it’s not that bad, then just tell me.”

“I can’t.” He rakes his free hand through his hair and casts a glance over his shoulder at me. Worry consumes his expression, causing my stomach to drop. He must see the fear in my eyes because he hastily adds, “Not until I look into it more and find out exactly what happened. Once I have, then I’ll show you.” He tucks the newspaper under his arm and begins opening cupboards. “Now, what are you craving this morning for breakfast? Popping cereal? Glittering eggs? Oh, if you want, I can make you some of my famous magic juiced donuts?”

“Thanks, but those make me really jittery. Too much magic, I think. And besides, I already ate. Remember the soggy cereal?”

He opens the cupboard above the stove. “Still, you should eat something better than that.”

While his back is turned to me, I move up and tickle the crap out of him.

Letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, he drops the paper as he stumbles forward. I feel a tad bit bad when he knocks his hip against the edge of the counter, but not enough to not read what’s on the paper.

“Another dead body stolen! Ryleigh Witcherford’s, who reportedly died a couple of weeks ago, body has gone missing.”

“What the freakin’ giggling sprites?” I gape at the headline staining the top of the paper. “How did this get reported … especially when my sister’s body isn’t …?” The paper falls from my hands as I realize that sometimes the news prints fast in Mystic Willow May and that the article might carry some truth.

I spin around and run for the basement door.

“Eva, wait!” Hunter calls out. “Let me go down there first, just in case something dangerous is still down there.”

I keep running, not slowing down until I reach the bottom of the crooked stairway. I need to see for myself if the article holds any truth. Then I screech to an alarmed halt.

“No, no, no, no … This isn’t right. I must be dreaming.”

No matter how many times I deny what’s right in front of me, the steel table where my sister lay only moments ago remains empty.