The detective flinches. It’s a small thing, there one second and gone the next. “If I could take your place, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He reaches for me, and I step forward into his embrace. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he whispers, hugging me tight. I never noticed before, but he must wear the same cologne as Dad. The familiarity of the scent and the strong arms around me tighten my throat. “But I have faith in you. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” My voice is watery with the tears I’m trying desperately to hide. Archer releases me, and I toss my bag into Sarah’s trunk, slipping into the back seat a moment later.
The inside of Sarah’s car is impeccably clean and comfortably cool. The cloth seats are still firm since no one ever sits back here with just the two of them. But with the baby coming, that’ll change soon enough.
Sarah glances at me in the rearview. “You can sit in front. I don’t bite.”
“Morgan is coming, too,” I say as she backs out of the driveway. “We’re picking her up at her place.”
“Ryan didn’t say anything about her coming with us.”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask him,” I admit. With all the other last-minute changes to the plan, I completely forgot. “But Morgan’s a Blood Witch like Alice. She can help with the recruiting. It’s this next left.” I hold my breath until Sarah sighs and puts on her blinker for the turn.
“Do you want her help with the magician, or do you want to make her clothes disappear?”
“Hey!”
Sarah laughs, and the earlier tension melts away completely. “What? When I was your age, I would have done anything to sneak off to a fancy hotel with my girlfriend.”
My cheeks are so hot they’re in danger of spontaneous combustion, but I’m laughing, too. It feels good to have another witch tease me about Morgan, even if it’s mortifying. The rest of the coven is still too weird about her being a Blood Witch to joke about anything. And as accepting as they are about us both being girls, Sarah is definitely the only one who’d ever tease me about this kind of stuff.
“We’re still firmly in the clothes on stage, for the record. And that’s not what this weekend is about.” I stare out the window and direct Sarah to Morgan’s house. “Promise you won’t say anything in front of her?”
“You got it, kiddo.”
I groan. “I’m not a kid,” I say, but somehow that only makes Sarah laugh harder. I really hope she doesn’t tell Morgan all my embarrassing childhood stories.
Thankfully, after we pick up Morgan, we spend most of our five-hour journey in silence. I try a few times to work on homework, but the closer we get to the city, the more frantic my worries become. I hated Manhattan the last time I was here, surrounded by too many bodies, with miles of concrete blocking the earth from my senses. Even the air, charged with so many people in such a small space, caused more anxiety than it soothed.
Not to mention the witches I met on those streets.
Something in my heart rate must alert Morgan to my distress, because she reaches for my hand and squeezes, a question in her blue gaze. I nod, and her magic cascades over me, soothing the harshest edges of my stress. Guilt picks at me for still being so scared of the Blood Witch I met here, even as Morgan’s magic makes my life so much better. Even as I find myself falling for Morgan more every day. Sarah glances at us in the rearview and smiles.
When we finally get to the hotel, it’s far more impressive than the place I stayed on my school trip. It’s a large building with geometric patterns of beige-and-gray siding around glittering glass. The lobby is all bright whites, rich blues, and a beige tile floor. It’s also full of hipsters when we check in. Tourists stand beside the sign announcing Alice’s show, and nerves make the little hairs on my arms stand on end. We’re really here. In a few short hours, I’ll begin my first real mission for the Council.
Morgan drags me over to the poster when the other tourists are done and makes me take a selfie with her and the sign. She curls her arm around my waist, and her touch makes all the worry melt away. A thrill climbs up my chest when I remember Sarah’s teasing words. Morgan and I are about to have a room all to ourselves. No parents. No supervision. I press a kiss to her cheek and take another photo. I post the best few to Instagram, and my phone buzzes with at least a dozen likes by the time Sarah comes back from checking us in.
We take the elevator to the sixth floor and follow Sarah down the hall. She stops beside a room and hands me a key. “You girls will stay here. I’m the next room over. The front desk said there’s a door inside that connects the two rooms. I’ll leave my side unlocked in case there are any emergencies. I suggest you do the same.”
“Thanks,” I say, pressing the card against the lock. A light flashes green.
“We’ll head to the roof at seven-thirty for the show.” Sarah grins at me. “You two have fun until then.” Her innuendo is clear, and my cheeks are burning by the time she disappears into the next room.
I push open our door, drop my bag on the polished wood floor, and flop onto the king-size bed. The white comforter cushions my body, and I stare up at the art behind me. It looks like a deconstructed, geometric forest.
“Are you okay?” Morgan perches on the edge of the mattress. “I know you said cities are hard on you, and the last time you were here . . .”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, refusing to let old memories of this city ruin the first truly private time we’ve had since our date in the woods back home.
“If you’re sure.” Morgan kicks off her shoes and stands, stretching out her long limbs. “Do you want to practice your recruitment speech, or do you want to be distracted?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “What kind of distraction did you have in mind?”
Morgan turns slowly and raises her arms into a perfect ballet curve. “I’m auditioning for a solo in the fall recital. You could help me practice.”
Her body seems to melt as she progresses through the first few combinations, and even without the music, she’s mesmerizing. The arch of her back, the way her socked feet glide across the polished floor . . . I wish I had my sketchpad. I don’t know if I could ever capture such elegance in still form, but goddess I want to try.
She stops suddenly, breaking the spell. “Or . . .” Morgan steps forward and bends until her face is level with mine. “Since Gemma isn’t here to interrupt us, we could make out.”
“Yes,” I say, all thoughts of sketching gone completely. “That. I choose that.”
* * *
A few hours later, we emerge onto the hotel roof. Strings of lights hang above us like little electric stars, and the rows of picnic tables are covered with soft silver-and-black cloths. At the center of each table sits a flickering candle.