“What I’ve seen?” She frowned. “Can you spy on me when I’m on the toilet?”
“Florence.” One of his eyebrows lifted dramatically. “Why would I want to?”
“Some of your kind are into weird stuff.”
“What is ‘my kind’?” he asked softly, dangerously.
“I’m not sure. And I don’t want to know,” she hurried to add. “But I know you boys nowadays look at strange porn on your phones and computers.”
“None of my kinks include spying on my allies while they’re in the bathroom. Trust me, I will only connect with you about matters relating to Soleil. That’s the girl from next door, in case you didn’t know her name.”
“I had forgotten,” said Florence, slow pleasure suffusing her heart. “But I’ll remember it now.”
9
When Soleil resurfaced from the recovery trance, she didn’t feel rested at all.
She felt like a half-cooked noodle stuck to the side of a pan. One limb at a time, she pried herself from the backyard turf, drawing the blanket with her to cover her body. Her joints felt sore, the connective tissues loose and inflamed. Her bones ached.
Those symptoms meant she hadn’t rested long enough to fully recharge. She would have to prioritize another sun session, or become completely useless. Witches who overextended their power and screwed up their recharges too many times became permanently damaged, suffering from chronic fatigue and arthritis in the best-case scenarios, or heart disease and immune system failure at worst.
The price of powerful magic.
There had been an entire Institute course about radiance expenditure and recovery. But Soleil didn’t seem to tire as quickly as others did during those practice sessions. While the other witches groaned and complained in the classroom chat, Soleil felt alert and vivacious, humming with energy. Maybe those experiences had given her a false sense of her own stamina.
Since she had arrived in Wonderland, she’d used her power more frequently and extensively than ever before in her life. Lucibae was right—she was being careless. Stretching herself too thin.
Soleil blinked at the creamy peach sky and its purple wisps of pink-edged cloud.Sunset, her brain registered dimly.Beautiful.
As she shuffled toward the back door, Cerberus stalked beside her, his head brushing her thigh. There was an earnestness in his attitude, as if he could sense her weakness and wanted to support her.
“Good boy,” she said shakily, patting his head between the spiked ears.
She managed to prepare a bowl of food for him, and fresh water. Then she pulled on a soft tank top and a pair of lightweight shorts, not even bothering to add underwear. She didn’t plan on leaving the house for the rest of the weekend. She would collapse on the couch and watch TV tonight, and then tomorrow she would sunbathe again.
Her thumb found the light switch. In the lamplight she checked her skin, even though she knew what she would see. It was as smooth as ever, not a hint of sunburn. The sun recognized witches, penetrating rather than scorching them. Moonlight could work as an energy source, too, but the Institute professors didn’t recommend it. Recharging one’s radiance by moonlight required additional rituals to amplify the weak glow—tree circles, nude bodies stenciled with alchemic symbols, and smoky herbal bonfires fed with dark sacrifices—or so the Institute professors had said, when they deigned to mention such rituals. With few witches in existence, and covens rarely permitted to form, those practices had become arcane and inefficient. Soleil had been taught that moonlight circles were a weak, absurd method of recharging, not worth investigating even if anyone knew how to perform such a rite.
The jade-green tiles of the kitchen backsplash swam before Soleil’s eyes. She needed to lie down, and fast. She seized a banana, an apple, and a bottle of water before stumbling to the couch.
Her sigh of relief was almost a groan. She took a moment to relish the peaceful quiet, punctuated by the grinding of Carebear’s jaws as he munched his kibble.
Her phone rang, a nerve-cracking jangle.
“Damn it.” Soleil dragged herself up again, over to the counter where she’d left the phone that morning, before her sun-soak. She picked it up with unsteady fingers. A tiny involuntary thrill shot through her stomach when she saw Tarek’s name.
She pressed the green dot on the screen. “Hey stranger.”
“Hey chickadee.” His rich voice rolled through her ears into her body, suffusing it with a warmth like melted chocolate. “You busy?”
She should be truthful and tell him she was exhausted, that he should call back later. She was trying so hard not to be the fawning little sophomore with the mega-sized crush. It had been nearly three years now—surely she could do better,bebetter.
But the words slipped out anyway. “I can chat for a few minutes. What’s up?”
“As you know, I’m doing some work for the Institute on the side. Oh, and I got the contract I was hoping for, the big one with Echelon International.”
“Nice!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. Devon’s happy, and that’s what matters.”