If the Broom Fits (21 page)

T
he evening was cold
, but no snow forecast. I sat outside the girls' house anyway, staring up at the sky, waiting for the initiation to start. The Kilkenny coven was here too, and the house was loud and bursting with life, which actually made me smile a little before I snuck out the front door.

“I'm not sure I fully grasp the meaning of your note,” Corbin's voice came from the darkness.

I giggled, briefly covering my face with my hands. Those damn letters. I wished I had never written them. Everyone now, even Sy, looked at me with gushiness that made me want to bury my head in the sand. At least Corbin's wasn't completely heartfelt.

By the time I lowered my hands, he was in front of me with a slight smirk. “You appear to still be alive, which would say to me that I have plenty of time left to kill you if I so choose.” His cold finger tilted my chin up as his eyes focused on my neck, which was still healing, but hurt like hell to move. Faster than I could stop him, he cut his own finger and smeared his blood across the wound. All residual pain vanished as my skin stitched itself back together. “Who did this?” he asked, sitting beside me.

I shook my head. “It doesn't matter.”

He was quiet for a while. “I think it does, pet.”

“Why? You've made it pretty clear I only matter to you when you can get something from me. So why should you care? Afraid someone might kill me before I give you what you want? You need a favor again?”

His black eyes stared out into the darkness. “That was not my intention. You are important in more ways than that, Frost.”

I didn't ask how because I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I definitely didn't need to know.

“Who marred you?” he asked quietly, dangerously.

“A fallen angel. But we took care of him.”

Corbin's eyebrows shot up, but he nodded slowly. “Always full of surprises.” He stood up and faced me for a moment, then tapped the end of my nose. “Don't be a stranger, Frost.”

He melted into the darkness.

I shook my head. He hadn't exactly told me to call him if I needed him; Corbin would never give such an open invitation to anyone. But he also didn't say have a nice life. I understood Corbin. I'd been just like him for most of my life: in pain and wary of the rest of the world.

After several moments of solitude, I was ready to head back into the fray. I stood to go back inside when a movement at the side of the house caught my attention. As far as I could tell, a human man lurked by the trees on the edge of the property, staring at the brightly lit windows. He was flipping something back and forth in his hand.

I went toward him. “Can I help you?”

He looked over at me, startled. “The owners of Enchantment live here, right? In Edith Warren's old house? Do you know how they got it?”

“They rent it from Selene Warren. Who are you?”

He didn't answer, just kept turning a button over his fingers as he studied the house. Finally, he popped it up into the air and caught it, putting it back into his pocket. “Have a good night,” he said, heading back out to the street.

I watched him go, contemplating which one of the girls had caught that poor human's eye.

“Terrick, if you accidentally blow up our cat, I will purposefully turn you to stone,” Katrina called from the kitchen as I walked into the living room to find Terrick down on all fours, trying to coax Stewie out from under the couch.

“Where did you disappear to?” Jessica asked, coming up beside me.

“I just needed a little quiet.”

She nodded, then her gaze snagged on my neck. “Whaaaaat?” she said pointing, but not touching.

“Ran into Corbin,” I said, rolling my eyes.

But she smiled. “If there was a vote—”

“There isn't,” I assured her.

She nodded. “He'd have mine.”

“What's your problem with Orion?”

She shrugged. “Come on. We're about to start.”

We went to the attic where everything was prepared for the initiation. After much debate, the Kilkenny coven had agreed to join ours. Though their bloodline was older, ours was stronger. And everyone agreed we all had a lot to learn from one another. With them, we would be at nine members, leaving only four more to go.

Everyone took their places around the circle. Selene nodded to me, and I stepped forward and lit a green candle. “I call on the guardian of the north to witness this rite and guard this circle.”

The other corners were called one by one until the circle closed around the old and the new. The future was once again infinite for all of us.

M
ANY AUTHORS CLAIM
to have known their calling from a young age. Liz Schulte, however, didn't always want to be an author. In fact, she had no clue. Liz wanted to be a veterinarian, then she wanted to be a lawyer, then she wanted to be a criminal profiler. In a valiant effort to keep from becoming Walter Mitty, Liz put pen to paper and began writing her first novel. It was at that moment she realized this is what she was meant to do. As a scribe she could be all of those things and so much more.

When Liz isn't writing or on social networks she is inflicting movie quotes and trivia on people, reading, traveling, and hanging out with friends and family. Liz is a Midwest girl through and through, though she would be perfectly happy never having to shovel her driveway again. She has a love for all things spooky, supernatural, and snarky. Her favorite authors range from Edgar Allen Poe to Joseph Heller to Jane Austen to Jim Butcher and everything in between.

Contact her at:

• @lizschulte
  
• liz.schulte