Warlock 3 - Preview Chapters

This is a bit shorter than usual, as the next chapter goes better with Wednesday's drop.

Also, just to let everybody know, by the time this post drops, I will be on my way to a secluded, remote, undisclosed location for a while for no particular reason whatsoever.

Chapter

Cassandra came down after an hour or two, apologized for overreacting, and then acted like it was nothing. She brushed off my questions, but she was clearly still upset and tense about something, and her mana was a muddled mess I couldn’t decipher.

She came to bed as usual and cuddled my left side, while Sam took the right, and Rachel took what had become her spot — wrapped around my leg, head on my stomach, between Sam and me.

There was a little bit of position jostling when both Cassandra and Sam went to put their hand on the center of my chest at the same time, then each tried to get theirs under the others’ before giving up and taking either side.

I got the impression there was some kind of competition going on between the two, but if that was it, Cassandra was the only one playing, because Sam didn’t have any more idea than I did.

We even managed to cuddle and talk about future date nights without argument, though I did wind up committing to a date nearly every weekend in May — something my year-ago self would never have believed. Even without the dates, my social calendar had become ridiculously full.

In two days, we were meeting Rachel’s mom for tea; then there was a “free” weekend, but the girls had a list of stores they wanted to visit to look at baby stuff. The week after that was Beltane, but that was midweek, so the weekend was free — and that was the weekend I picked for Cassandra’s date night, Saturday, so we’d be in the city. With as upset as she was still getting, I wanted her to be first of the other girls in the coven to get some dedicated alone-time with me.

Sam even offered to put off a date of her own until Cassandra and Rachel got one, since she’d already had time with me to herself, so I had a couple weeks to figure out what to do with Cassandra, Rachel, and a second date with Priscilla, in May.

We took the train into the city the next morning and hung out at Mel’s on Saturday — between my date with Priscilla the night before and anxiety over our plans for Sunday, I was fine with having a day with absolutely nothing going on. Sunday was when we were meeting Rachel’s mother.

“Do I have to?” Rachel asked.

“Yes,” I said at the same time Sam said, “No.”

We shared a look.

“It’s your mom, Rachel.”

“If she doesn’t want to go, she shouldn’t have to go,” Sam said. “Would you make me come with to meet my … Sororix Prescott?”

I looked Sam in the eyes. “Yes.”

“What? Are you fucking serious? There’s no way in hell — fucking red! Magenta! Scarlett, crimson, raspberry — all the fucking reds!”

I shrugged. “Fine. I guess if you want me to bring someone else to kick her in the face after I knock her down, that’s okay.”

Sam grinned and gave me a deep kiss. “I love how much you get me.”

“Why do I have to go?” Rachel asked.

“Your mom wants to meet me, Rachel — and Sam and Cassandra, too — why shouldn’t you be there? It would be different if you didn’t think we should see her either, but you said we should.”

“We don’t get along.”

That’s about all we’d managed to get out of Rachel since her mother texted to make arrangements — those being one p.m. on a Sunday for Afternoon Tea. Yes, the text capitalized it.

Was she mean? Was she going to be angry? Was Rachel afraid of her? What was going on?

We don’t get along.

She wasn’t afraid, or anything like that, she just didn’t want to for some reason.

She even still called her “mom” and her response to whether she loved her mom was, “Of course, I love her — that’s a silly question.”

“You’re not going to kick my mom, are you?” Rachel asked.

“Is there some reason I should?”

Her brow furrowed and she glared at me. “No. You’d better not kick my mom.”

“I won’t,” I told her. “But I still don’t understand why you don’t want to see her — she even sent you a present.”

The overnight delivery box had been waiting on Mel’s steps when we arrived at the townhouse the morning before, but Rachel hadn’t opened it yet.

“It’s not a present.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s ‘proper attire.’”

“Oh.” That started to make some sense, if Rachel’s mom was some sort of stickler for that sort of thing and Rachel wasn’t.

Rachel sighed. “Fine. I’ll come with. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Rachel, I’m not going to kick your mom,” I said. Yeah, I wanted her to go, but not because she thought I was going to beat her mother up.

“No, you won’t understand until you see.”

“See what?”

“We don’t get along.”

*

“I do like that suit,” Sam said, adjusting my tie.

Considering what I’d done to her the last time I’d worn it, I sort of liked it too.

“It is nice,” Cassandra said, adjusting her dress. “We should get him more suits.”

“We don’t go to things that need a suit that often,” I said.

I shook my head, looking at Cassandra, because I was astounded anyone could pull off what she was wearing in this day and age.

The witch’s dress was white with pale, red and blue flowers, a wide collar, and puffy … everythings. The arms were pleated and puffed out, as was the bust, which, on Cassandra, was a lot of pleats. The overall effect was lovely innocence I’d like to corrupt.

Sam was in her most conservative dress, which wasn’t very, but it was the best she could do.

Rachel was dressed in what her mother had sent her, which was even more tea-like than Cassandra’s.

Both of them had hats, gloves, and tiny purses — since I’d seen them both transferring things to Sam’s purse, I wasn’t sure why they’d bothered with the little bags.

Sam brushed something off my lapel, then stepped back and nodded.

“He’s ready.”

“I’m not,” Rachel muttered.

We didn’t think it was a good idea to introduce Morgan to a strange Family witch, other than our friends, before she came into her power, and Mel had some things she wanted to do in her workroom, so it was just the four of us. We got a regular rideshare instead of calling Mihai, because he was working a good distance away and I didn’t want to make him drive all the way to us.

*

Rachel’s mom looked exactly like I’d expect Rachel to look in ten or fifteen years.

Well, ten or fifteen years of aging, not necessarily time, since Rachel’s mom was over a hundred years old.

The brunch place was absurdly fancy, looking like something out of a movie.

Rachel’s mom was already seated, wearing much the same sort of dress as Rachel and Cassandra, including the long white gloves each of them were carrying, except Sororix Winthrop was wearing hers already.

“Hsst! Rachel!” Cassandra whispered, slowing and holding me back as well. “Is your mom formal?”

Rachel turned to us. “Yeah, why — oh.”

Yes, she looked at me for the “oh.”

“Yeah,” Cassandra said. “Go, go, I’ll handle it.”

Rachel started toward her mother’s table again while Cassandra shoved Sam and I into position.

“Rachel’s first,” Cassandra hissed at us. “Then Noah, then Samantha, then me. Noah, she’s going to hold her hand out — don’t kiss it like Rachel’s going to, just bow over it, and, for Crone’s sake, don’t shake it.” She shoved my shoulders. “Go, don’t dawdle.”

“She’ll probably call you Kentrox,” Sam whispered. “Don’t look surprised — it just means a warlock in a coven. Center or something like that.”

I managed to bow over Rachel’s mother’s hand without embarrassing myself — at least no one smacked me on the back of the head or anything — then Sam and Cassandra greeted her.

“Please, sit,” Sororix Winthrop said, waving a hand. “The tea’s being prepared and should arrive shortly.”

I sat, with Sam and Cassandra to either side of me. Rachel was next to Sam and her mother. I jumped as I felt hands on my thighs. Two. One on each side, and I wondered what the hell Sam and Cassandra were thinking, especially together.

Nobody said anything for what seemed like too long, and I finally decided to open the conversation, but I’d barely drawn a breath before the hands on my thighs turned into claws, digging into my flesh. They timed it well, so I didn’t even have air to yelp.

I can take a hint.

“I am most pleased to meet you at last, Kentrox Blackwood,” Rachel’s mom said after another few seconds of silence.

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Sororix Winthrop,” I managed.

Cassandra squeezed my thigh and Sam turned her head toward me to cough, “Trip.” Into my face.

“Pardon me,” Sam said.

“Ah, how was your trip in, Sororix Winthrop?” I made a guess. Cassandra patted my thigh.

“A trial, but we must bear it.”

“Wha —” Talons gouged my flesh on Sam’s side and it was Cassandra’s turn to cough into my other ear.

“Sorry.”

“I … ah, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And your own travels from Willowmere?”

Sam and Cassandra guided me through a few minutes of idle, yet curiously limited, chit chat, then the tea arrived.

I’d had tea at Mel’s. I’d served tea at Mel’s — at least once — so I wasn’t surprised by the multi-tiered tower of treats that arrived.

I was surprised that it wasn’t just little cakes and cookies. This one had tiny lobster rolls, salmon on top of something, caviar-topped somethings, and a lot more, including one that looked like it had raw beef — all that was in addition to all the sweets I couldn’t identify, because it was a lot fancier than little cakes.

“Do try the wagyu tartare over confit potato — it’s wonderful,” Rachel’s mom said, indicating what I’d correctly identified as raw-shit.

I had no desire to ever try sushi, and hadn’t even known there was other shit served raw — certainly not beef — but by the time I looked down at my plate, Sam was already transferring things to it. Guess what she started with.

I moved my hand to dump it back on Sam’s plate, but Cassandra’s nails dug into my thigh.

Right — I should have figured it was bad manners not to eat what the hostess was recommending.

I steeled myself against gagging and took a bite.

Imagine the beefiest beef you’ve ever had, along with the potatoiest potato — and butter. It melted on my tongue like one of those creamy-center chocolates, and I was glad I’d steeled myself, because it came in handy suppressing the groan.

I still wasn’t trying sushi.

Aside from being a little stuffy and formal, I really didn’t see anything wrong with Rachel’s mom — she went on asking us fairly innocuous questions while we ate and drank. I did notice that Rachel was shyer and more reserved than usual — which was saying a lot. She answered her mother with as few words as possible, and I couldn’t really hear some of her answers, she was so quiet.

“And congratulations to you — a child from your binding is quite the thing,” Sororix Winthrop said to Cassandra, then turned to Sam. “Now that your warlock’s unique ability is known, will you be having one soon, as well?”

Sam shook her head. “Rachel and I are waiting until after we graduate.”

“Indeed.”

“Here we go,” Rachel muttered.

“And you will allow this?” Rachel’s mom asked me.

“Of course,” I said, thinking I got it. If her mom kept pressuring her to have kids, it made sense for Rachel not to get along with her.

“I see.” Sororix Winthrop sighed. “When I heard about the Council session, I had some hope you’d be stronger.”

I raised an eyebrow — the hands on my thighs were idle, as though they had no idea what to say either.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

“Mom, please.”

“Sororix Winthrop,” I said, trying to head off whatever this was turning into. “I love Rachel and I want her to be happy, so —”

“Happy? What does happy have to do with anything?”

“Mom —”

“A Winthrop with Passion needs control, not happiness. Do you really not understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“Mom, Noah —”

“We had a warlock for her, you know?” Rachel’s mother went on. “One with Passion, himself — do you have any idea how rare that is?”

So that was it.

I sighed, a little disappointed. After meeting Rachel’s grandmother, I’d had some hope the Winthrops might be different from the other witch Families and were less interested in maximizing the power available at all costs.

I wasn’t getting any thigh-guidance, so Sam and Cassandra seemed to have no more idea how to handle this than I did.

“I’m really not interested in maximizing power or whatever in my coven, ma’am,” I told her.

“Maximize?” Rachel’s mother raised her eyebrows and sighed. “Young man, that you think that’s what I’m talking about only concerns me more. Winthrops with Passion aren’t maximized, they’re limited to avoid harming the warlock. With a child in her, you might be able —”

“Mom!” Rachel cried. “Noah’s plenty —”

“We’ll be fine, Sororix Winthrop,” I said. I was pretty sick of mothers-in-law criticizing and interfering in my coven, not to mention making my girls unhappy. Rachel said she loved her mom, so it wasn’t as bad as with Sam’s or Cassandra’s, but all the witch moms seemed to be so damned controlling. “We have our plans as a coven, and both Sam and Rachel want to wait until after school, and maybe even spellstick, to —”

Rachel closed her eyes and groaned.

“Spellstick. Of course,” her mom said, shaking her head. “You should absolutely forbid her to play that game.”

“Mom, I’m playing spellstick!”

“It is a foolish sport which raises violent passions. Passions, Rachel, which will only —”

“I’m playing!”

Other diners looked over at Rachel’s outburst, but only for a second before they looked away, shrugging as though nothing had happened. My vision seemed to blur when I looked away from the table and I had a feeling Rachel’s mom had dropped a glamour over us.

“Passions which will only stretch your resonant unreasonably, making you even more vulnerable to its influence!” her mom went on, getting louder herself.

“Grandma played!”

“You are not my mother!”

Honestly, the first time I’d ever heard of a mother telling her daughter that.

“Katherine had the advantage of both being very strong-willed and having a warlock trained from birth to handle her,” Rachel’s mother went on. She glanced at me. “You are not so lucky.”

“Grandma says I’m a good player!”

“Of course you’re a good player, Rachel. You were the best in every league you played in — that is not the point!”

“I don’t care what your point is — I’m playing!”

Rachel stood and grasped her little purse before stepping away from the table.

“Compose yourself before leaving the glamour, young lady!”

Rachel’s nostrils flared, but she let her tense shoulders fall and put a smile on her face before stepping through the haze and heading for the restaurant door.

I shared a glance with Sam and Cassandra, but they were as stunned as I was. The whole argument had escalated and concluded before I’d even realized it started.

I started to get up to follow Rachel, but her mother stopped me.

“Please, a moment more, Kentrox Blackwood.

When I looked back at her, Rachel’s mother was entirely composed again.

“A regrettable scene,” she said, “but likely not avoidable.” She sighed and reached for a bag, almost a briefcase, sitting beside her chair. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it looked like something more suited to a corporate boardroom than tea.

“A bit of Family business,” Sororix Winthrop said, pulling a large envelope from the case and placing it on the table. “Kentrox Blackwood, Archimagira Winthrop wishes me to inform you that the Winthrop Family is formally requesting recompense for the theft of the witch, Rachel Winthrop, by your Family.”

I started to protest, but both Sam and Cassandra dug their nails so deeply into my thighs that I started wondering if my femoral arteries were in danger — Rachel biting me had hurt less.

Cassandra reached for the envelope. “Thank you, Sororix Winthrop, please assure the Archimagira that we will review the proposal and provide a response in a timely manner.”

“Thank you,” Sororix Winthrop said, opening her purse. “I’ll leave you with the tea — perhaps you can convince Rachel to return … she did enjoy our teas together, when she was younger.”

Sororix Winthrop set a folded note on the table.

“This is a list of books — they should still be in the Willowmere library, though likely unreferenced for some time.”

“Books?”

She stood, nodding.

“Strengthening exercises for warlocks.”

*

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, watching Rachel’s mother walk away. “They want us to pay for Rachel?”

“I’ll go get Rachel before the tea gets cold,” Sam said, standing. “You explain it to him.”

Cassandra nodded, opening the envelope and sliding out a stack of papers.

“Explain what?” I asked.

“Give me a second,” Cassandra muttered, scanning the first page, which was a list of bullet points. “This is … holy shit.”

“What? Why is this a big deal?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Cassandra said, still reading. “It’s a huge deal, even bigger than I thought.”

“Why?”

“Noah, recognition as a Family was one thing, but it doesn’t mean others are going to treat us like an equal. We’re not even a complete coven, we’ve been recognized for less than a month — at best, I figured other Families would mostly ignore us, maybe for years, but this? This is the Winthrops treating us as an equal. Mother’s tears, almost more than equals.” She scanned the first page again. “I wouldn’t even negotiate this — we should go catch Sororix Winthrop and accept before they come to their senses.”

I sighed. “Fine, how much do they want?”

We had an obscene amount of money, so if it would settle things with the Winthrops and let Rachel’s grandmother stop having to pretend to be angry with Rachel, I’d pay it. On the other hand, all the Families had obscene amounts of money, so it could be more than even what Mel had set us up with — I hoped I wasn’t going to have to ask Mel for more. That would be embarrassing.

“They don’t want money,” Cassandra said as though the very idea was stupid.

“What then?”

“They want a Blackwood warlock.”

“What?” I looked around as those at nearby tables turned to stare at me and lowered my tone. “They want someone to mark me? Fuck that.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Not you.”

“Then how — wait, they want one of my kids? Fuck that even more.”

Cassandra squeezed my thigh with one hand while she continued to read.

“I know how you feel, but listen — our kids are going to have to find covens somewhere, and it’s not like our Family has any options for that yet.”

“I’m still not —”

“Listen. Just listen to the terms for a minute and you’ll see how big this is.” She licked her lips. “‘A warlock of the Blackwood Line, to join the Winthrops within fifty years.’ They’re taking the long-term view and I think they must have talked to Priscilla’s mom or something, because I’ve never seen a clause like this before: ‘the binding to be the true and honest wish of both the Winthrop witch and the Blackwood warlock.’” She looked up to me, eyes wide. “We have half a fucking century for one of our kids to want to bind or be bound by a Winthrop witch — and in the meantime, we have no conflict with the Winthrops from binding Rachel.”

I thought about it for a minute — that was a long time, even by witch terms, and it wasn’t unreasonable to think that one of my kids might fall for a Winthrop witch sometime in the next fifty years. That was a lot better than what I’d assumed.

“Okay, I guess it’s not that bad.”

“‘Not bad?’” Cassandra snorted. “Goddess, we need to find a way to stuff eighteen years of learning directly into your brain. Noah, how do you think the kids are going to get to know each other so it’s ‘the wish of both the Winthrop witch and the Blackwood warlock?’”

“I don’t know — dates?”

Cassandra sighed. “No, most Family witches know pretty early who their warlock’s going to be, even the whole coven sometimes — they’ve known each other their whole lives usually. The Winthrops are different — they keep witches and warlocks separated, even as kids, but there’s a clause in this to begin meetings whenever we choose. We’re getting invited to playdates as soon as they can crawl, we’ll be going to Lammastide dinners and Yule parties — the Winthrops are willing to break Purity for us. This is an offer of alliance in all but name.”

Chapter

A few days later, I stared at the Willowmere library doors, taking deep, even breaths.

I wasn’t there for the books Rachel’s mom had suggested — Sam had them all checked out for me before dinner on Monday.

This isn’t hard, I told myself. There’ nothing to be this nervous about.

My stomach disagreed — strenuously. Also my palms, which seemed to have stolen all the moisture from my mouth.

I was about to do something I’d never done before. Something I’d only heard other guys talk about, and rarely without a certain amount of fear and trepidation.

I was going to talk to a girl.

Yes, I had three beautiful witches who were all mine, but … well, Sam asked me, Cassandra and I had the whole fuck-or-die thing, and Rachel … huh, Sam had taken care of that, too, by spilling the beans when we told Morgan she was a witch.

So this was, actually, the first time I was going to do this.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath, strode through the library doors, and found my target at one of the back tables.

“Hey,” I said.

Hannah looked up and smiled. “Hey.” The smile changed to a frown of confusion as she looked around. “Where’s the entourage?”

“Making a list of bassinets and other baby stuff they want to find someplace to look at in person this weekend.”

“Ah.”

“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked.

Hannah spread her hands. “Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’re busy.”

“Last paper of the year,” she said, holding up her notebook. “Half done, but I’ve got a few weeks left — I’m hoping to be done before Beltane and concentrate on finals after that.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said.

“My paper?”

“The, um, end of the school year.”

Fuck, I wasn’t doing this well. What was I supposed to say? Sam had just said, “bind me,” Cassandra and I hadn’t had much choice, Rachel hit us with a freaking love potion first, and Priscilla’s mom set things up for her — I had no idea how to ask a witch out, much less the whole coven thing. Sam had been trying to contact Brittany and Hannah’s Family for weeks now, ever since things had settled down after the Council session, but they weren’t returning her calls. It was almost Beltane and the last month of school.

So I’d decided we should to talk to Hannah directly. Sam had been ready to come do it, she and Hannah had been friends since summer camp, but I said I would — Sam contacting the Family to open discussions was fine if we were going that route, but if we were going to talk to a witch directly? I felt like that was my role.

Sometimes I’m an idiot — Sam would be much better at this.

“Like, exams? I gave Rachel all of my notes for the last four years — I sure don’t remember more than that.”

“Not —” I had to clear my throat. “Not exams.”

“What, then?”

“After,” I said. “After exams and after school ends? Your, um, plans?”

Hannah shrugged. “Go home — find out what witch I’m assigned to.”

“Witch? Not warlock?”

Was this some hitherto unknown, yet immediately intriguing aspect of witch society?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What? Nothing!”

Hannah shrugged. “Yeah, witch — onesie, remember? Brittany and I won’t be getting a warlock. I meant the witch on some investigative team I’ll be assigned to — my Family … looks into things.”

I nodded. “Ah.”

Hannah had the Hindsight affinity going along with her Regret resonant, and it allowed her to show the past — that was probably handy in investigations.

“I, ah, also wanted to apologize,” I said, deciding to make sure we were good before asking what I was really here for.

“For what?” Hannah asked, brow furrowing.

“We’ve sort of, Sam and I, kind of spent a lot less time with you and Brittany — since … you know.”

“Yeah?” Hannah shrugged. “I guess it’s to be expected, right? You guys formed a coven — that always takes up a lot of time. Now you’re having to integrate Rachel and Cassandra, too? I’m not expecting to see much of you guys the rest of the year. Then school’s over —” She sighed. “You know, they all said they’d ‘keep in touch’ last year? All the seniors I knew who were leaving? Nobody does.”

That hit a little too close to home, reminding me of foster families. I decided to dive in a bit more directly.

“Sam’s, ah, been trying to talk to your Family, but they won’t return her calls.”

“Why would she … oh.” Hannah’s eyes went wide, then she sighed. “Oh, Noah, I’m … I’m flattered. Really, but they haven’t called back because that’s their answer.”

“We haven’t even asked the question yet.”

“Yeah, you did. First Witch of a new coven, a new Family, calls? They know what’s up, and they know you guys — they know Brittany and I are friends with you. What else would Sam be calling about? Especially now that you’re recognized. If you wanted to hire us, the Family, there’s a business line for that.” Hannah shook her head. “They’re not interested in letting Brittany or me go — even as onesies, Hindsight and Precog are too valuable Maybe somebody else, but not us.”

I frowned. “You said you were thinking about a place at Willowmere, though.”

I suggested it cautiously, because Hannah had told me that while we were sitting by the lake in the State Park next to campus — right before we’d been attacked by a bunch of drunken frat guys and she found out about my Command affinity.

“Oh, that,” Hannah said, she looked down, bit her lip, and took a couple deep breaths. “Everybody likes to fantasize about what the future could be like, right? Even if you know it’s not possible. You’ve done that, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, when I was ten I read these books and started dreaming about going to magic school.”

It took Hannah a couple seconds to laugh, but when she did it relieved a lot of the tension I was feeling about the conversation.

“I guess Sam told you we were kind of joking about it?”

I nodded.

Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry if you guys thought it was a possibility. It was … it was nice to think about. Maybe flirt a little. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.” She looked down at the table. “It’s just not possible.”

“So you want to do this investigative stuff?” I asked. “You’re okay with — you told me your Family doesn’t treat onesies well, but you’re too valuable?”

It seemed like they should treat her better if she was so valuable — more, it seemed they should treat her better just because she was family, or even just a person.

“Valuable isn’t the same as valued. It doesn’t really matter what I’m okay with, does it? It is what it’s always been.”

“Does it have to be?” I asked. “If you had another option —”

“I really, really do appreciate you thinking that … honestly pretty flattered you’re thinking of me, even if I am a onesie — but you don’t need that kind of trouble, not with Sam’s and Cassandra’s moms already hating you, and whatever the Winthrops are going to do … I can’t believe you were willing to piss them off too.”

I couldn’t argue with Hannah much about those things, since I couldn’t tell her joining my coven would make her into a trinitara instead of a onesie, or that we’d had Rachel’s grandmother’s blessing to steal her from the Winthrops — Rachel had been thrilled with the offer for us to trade a warlock for her, but it wasn’t a finalized deal and we weren’t supposed to talk about it outside the Family.

Or maybe I could tell her those things — she knew about my Command affinity and hadn’t told anyone. I’d have to think about that.

“I don’t think that should be a reason for us to not do what we want to,” I said. “If you want it, too.”

“You do? Even if I’m a onesie?”

If it came down to practical matters, especially a onesie, because that would make two matching resonants I could give her.

“I care about you, Hannah — Rachel and Sam do, too. We don’t want to lose you to … whatever the whole investigation thing is. Same for Brittany,” I added.

“Oh, Child’s cries, you haven’t talked to Brittany about this, have you?”

I shook my head.

“Please, don’t.” Hannah actually looked a little scared. “Precog is even more valuable than Hindsight — they’d never let her go, but Brittany … she just doesn’t think sometimes.”

I hadn’t talked to Brittany, it was Hannah who was a senior and would be leaving Willowmere in just a few weeks, so I’d wanted to start with her, but we absolutely planned on talking to Brittany, even if we did have three more years together at Willowmere to work it out.

Hannah looked so upset at the prospect of me talking to her sister, though, that I dropped the subject. I’d let things sit for a while and maybe Hannah would be more receptive after she’d thought about it, or maybe the Fieldings would return one of Sam’s calls and we could actually work it out.