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“You will change your mind, you know,” he said, but I detected a faint note of doubt in his voice.

“No. I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Morgan—please. Don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” I asked, a thread of alarm lacing through me.

He sighed and looked down. “I was so hoping you’d change your mind,” he said, almost to himself. “I’m sorry to hear that you won’t. A power like yours—it must be allied with mine, or it presents too much of a risk.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

He looked up at me again. “There’s still time to change your mind,” he said. “Time to save yourself, your family, your friends. If you make the right decision.”

“You tell me what you’re talking about,” I demanded, my throat almost closed with fear. I thought of what he could to me, to the people I loved inside this house. To Hunter. “Save myself, my family? Don’t you dare do anything. You asked your question. I answered. Now get away from me.”

I was almost shaking with rage and terror, remembering all too well the nightmare of New York, when he had tried to make me relinquish my power, my very soul to him. I remembered, too, the terrifying, heady sweetness of being a wolf alongside him, a ruthless, beautiful predator with indescribable strength. Oh, Goddess.

“I’ll leave,” Ciaran said, sounding sad. “I won’t ask you again. It’s a pity it all has to end this way.”

“End what way?” I practically shrieked, almost hysterical.

“You’ve chosen your fate, daughter,” he said, turning to leave. “It isn’t what I wanted, but you leave me no choice. But know that by your decision you have sacrificed not only yourself, but everyone and everything you love.” He gave a rueful, bitter smile. “Good-bye, Morgan. You were a shining star.”

I felt ready to jump out of my skin and tried to choke out something, something to make him explain, make him tell me what he was going to do. Then I remembered: I knew his true name! The name of his very essence, the name by which I could control him absolutely. The name that was a color, a song, a rune all at once. Just as the name sprang to my trembling lips, Ciaran faded into the night. I blinked and peered into the darkness but saw nothing: no shadow, no footprints on the dead grass, no mark in the cold dew that was just starting to form.

Abruptly my knees finally gave way and I sat down, hard, on the cold cement steps. My breath felt cold and caught in my throat. My hands were shaking—I felt stupid with panic, with dread. As soon as I could get to my feet, I went inside, smiled, and said good night to my family. Then I went upstairs and called Hunter. And told him that Ciaran had gotten in touch with me.

The next morning Hunter was waiting for me outside my house when Mary K. and I came out to go to school.

“Hi, Hunter!” my sister said, looking surprised but pleased to see him at this hour.

“Hullo, Mary K.,” he said. “Mind if I tag along this morning?”

Bewildered, my sister shrugged and got into the backseat of Das Boot. He and I exchanged meaningful glances.

For the rest of the day, Hunter hung out in my car outside school. Last night I had been inside my spelled house. Today, at school, I didn’t have much protection. Whenever I passed a window, I looked out to see him. Even though he and I both knew this was like erecting a tissue-paper house in front of a gale-force wind, still, it made both of us feel better to be close.

At lunch he joined me and the members of Kithic in the cafeteria. After we’d talked last night, we’d agreed not to say anything to the rest of our coven until we knew more about what was going on.

“Hi, Hunter,” said Bree, taking the seat next to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Just missed my girl, I guess,” Hunter said, accepting half the sandwich I offered him. He immediately changed the subject. “So you’re all coming to the next circle, right? At Thalia’s?”

I saw Bree’s beautiful, coffee-colored eyes narrow a fraction and thought it lucky that Thalia didn’t go to our school. She had made it no secret that she found Robbie attractive. Privately I thought a bit of competition might be good for Bree.

Raven Meltzer clomped over in her motorcycle boots and sat down at the end of the table. She looked uncharacteristically sedate today, in a torn black sweatshirt, men’s suit trousers, and less than half an inch of makeup. She nodded at the rest of the table, then surveyed her bought lunch without enthusiasm.

I looked around at my coven, my friends, remembering Ciaran’s words from last night: He had said that with my decision, I had sacrificed them. At the start of the school year I had really known only Bree and Robbie. Now all of them—Jenna, Raven, Ethan, Sharon, and Matt—felt like an extended family. Despite how different we were, despite what other groups we belonged to, we were a coven. We had made magick together. And now, because of me, they might all be in serious danger. I took in a couple of shuddering breaths and opened my carton of chocolate milk. Hunter and I would somehow fix this situation. I had to believe that.

After school I joined Hunter at Das Boot. We gave Mary K. a ride home and picked up his car, and then we both drove to his house. Once there, he called upstairs to his dad. Mr. Niall soon came down and greeted me with what seemed like a fraction more warmth than usual. I felt slightly encouraged as the three of us sat around the worn wooden table in the kitchen.

“Last night Ciaran asked you to join him,” Hunter said, jumping right in. I tried to ignore Mr. Niall’s visible flinch.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s asked before. I’ve always said no. I said no again last night. But this felt more final. He said he was sorry to hear it—but that I could still save myself, my friends, and my family—if I made the right decision.”

“He said specifically your friends, your family?” Hunter asked.

“Yes.”

Hunter and Mr. Niall met eyes across the table. Mr. Niall stretched his hands out on the table and looked at them. Finally he said, “Yes, I think that sounds like a dark wave.”

My mouth dropped open—somehow, despite his implications, I hadn’t let myself believe Ciaran could have meant that. “So you really think Ciaran would send a dark wave here, to Widow’s Vale? For me?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” said Mr. Niall, and Hunter nodded slowly. “Though it would likely be targeted to attack only the coven members and their families, and not the whole town.”

“I agree with Da,” said Hunter. “From what you told me last night, it sounds like Ciaran thinks your power is just too strong not to be allied with his. And I would guess he also wants revenge since you won’t join him. Not to mention the added bonus of taking a Seeker out at the same time.”

As much as I had tried to deny the real threat behind Ciaran’s words, as soon as Hunter said “dark wave,” I knew he was right. Still, it felt like a fresh, crushing blow, and I took small, shallow breaths, trying to keep calm.

“I think he’s been planning it for a while,” Mr. Niall went on. “I’ve been feeling the effects this past week. There’s a feeling of deadness, of decay in the air. An oppression. At first I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. But now I’m certain my instincts are right—there’s a dark wave coming.”

In a flash I remembered Mom’s crocuses dying in a row beside the front walk. I thought of how the lawn hadn’t begun to green up, though it was time. I thought of how awful I’d been feeling physically. “What can we do? How can we stop it?” I asked, trying not to sound completely terrified. Inside me, my mind was screaming, There’s no way to stop it, there’s never been a way.