Page 44 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
She bows again and withdraws, closing the door silently behind her.
Once alone, I stand motionless in the center of the room, halfway convinced I'm hallucinating. Twenty-four hours ago, I was in a dingy hostel counting pennies. Now I'm in a mansion that belongs to... something... that could probably kill me with a thought.
I've jumped from one predator's territory to another's. But at least this one has good taste in bedding, and whatever he is, he doesn’t immediately remind me of the night my face was half ripped off.
I spot my duffel bag on a bench at the foot of the bed. Someone must have retrieved it from the wolves' house. The thought of someone possibly deciding to snoop and rummage through my meager possessions makes me cringe, but at least I have my grimoire and a change of clothes.
The bathroom proves equally luxurious. All marble with gold fixtures, a shower the size of my hostel room, and a claw-foot tub deep enough to drown in. The feet of the tub look like dragon claws, but I’ll still take it over anything wolf related. There are plenty of toiletries, too. Expensive brands I only recognize from magazine ads.
After the longest, hottest shower of my life, I wrap myself in a plush robe and return to the bedroom. There are clean clothes already folded on my bed—silk pajamas in a shade of blue so soft it looks like water.
I plug my dead phone into a charger I find on the nightstand. While it powers up, I reluctantly glance at my face in the ornate mirror hanging over the dresser. Without my glamour, the damage looks even worse than I remember. The jagged scars cut straight through my eye and across my cheek, pulling my eyelids in a slight droop and distorting the corner of my mouth where the skin is torn in a permanent half-snarl that bares my premolars.
Monster.
The first word out of Kyle's mouth when he saw what the coven had failed to fully heal.
I turn away sharply, unable to keep looking.
My phone chimes as it comes to life, notifications flooding the screen. Three missed calls from Cadence and six text messages.
CADENCE: Regina, what's going on? That over-gelled creep just called me looking for you.
CADENCE: Call me back. I'm worried.
CADENCE: This isn't funny, Regina. Just let me know you're alive.
CADENCE: If you don't answer soon, I'm calling the police.
CADENCE: Okay, so the police were useless. Said you're an adult and can disappear if you want, which is such complete and utter bullshit.
CADENCE: I KNOW you're in trouble. Call me. I love you.
Guilt twists my stomach. Cadence might be obsessed with being right and prone to preening over it, and she may have rubbed it in that she was the favorite throughout our childhoods, but I know she loves me.
I send her a quick message.
REGINA: I’m okay. I'll call tomorrow. I promise. Love you too.
I turn off the phone before she can call. I'll deal with her inevitable questions tomorrow, after I've figured out what the hell I'm going to do next.
I sink into the impossibly soft bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. Between the elixir's lingering effects, the warmth of the fire, and the day's physical and emotional exhaustion, I’m actually comfortable.
And then, as I slip into sleep, I hear it—a distant howling. Four voices blending in mournful harmony, calling out to something. Or someone.
Calling tome.
I can feel it in my bones. It’s old magic, just like everything in this house. And I can't tell if it's real or a dream, but either way, something in me responds.
Something primal and buried and utterly terrifying.
Chapter
Thirteen
REGINA
Ijolt awake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.
