"She was warning me," he answered simply. Still holding my hand, he led me through a pair of dark wooden doors that opened into a large, formal parlor. A fire was blazing in an enormous stone hearth, and in front of it a deep blue sofa beckoned. Cal sat and pulled me down to sit next to him.

"Warning you?" I pressed.

He sighed. "Hunter's out to get me, basically, and Sky was telling me to be on my guard. That's all."

I frowned into the fire. Usually I felt reassured by the I heat and glow of flames—but not now. "Why is Hunter out to get you?"

Cal hesitated. "It's… um, kind of personal," he said.

"But why was Sky warning you? Isn't she with him?"

"Sky doesn't know what she wants," Cal answered cryptically. He hadn't shaved in a while, and the shadow of stubble across his face made him look older. Sexier, too. He was quiet for a few moments, and then he edged closer to me, so I felt his warmth from my shoulder to my hip. A memory swept over me: of how it had felt to lie next to him, to kiss him deeply, to have his hands touch me and to touch him back. But I couldn't allow myself to be distracted.

"Who is Hunter?" I asked.

Cal made a face. "I don't want to talk about him," he said.

"Well, he came to see me today."

"What?" Shock flared in Cal's golden eyes. I saw something else there, too. Concern, maybe. Concern for me.

"What's the International Council of Witches?" I pressed on.

Cal drew away from me, then sighed in resignation. He sat back against the couch and nodded. "You'd better just tell me everything," he said.

"Hunter came to my house and said I was Woodbane," I said. The words flowed from my mouth as if a dam had been broken. "He said you were Woodbane and that he was your brother. He said I was stumbling into danger. He said he was on the International Council of Witches."

"I can't believe this." Cal groaned. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure he leaves you alone from now on." He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. "Anyway, the International Council of Witches is just what it sounds like. Witches from all over the world getting together. It's kind of a governing body, though what they govern isn't really clear. They're kind of like village elders, but the village consists of all witches everywhere. I think there's something like sixty-seven countries represented."

"What do they do?"

"In the old days they often settled disputes about land, dan wars, cases of magick being used against others," Cal explained. "Now they mostly try to set guidelines about appropriate use of magick, and they try to consolidate magickal knowledge."

I shook my head, not quite understanding. "And Hunter's part of it?"

Cal shrugged. "He says he is. I think he's lying, but who knows? Maybe the council is really hard up for members."

He gave a short laugh. "Mostly he's just a second-rate witch with delusions of grandeur."

"Delusions is right," I murmured, remembering how Hunter had claimed his cold was the result of a spell. That was so obviously ridiculous that maybe I should just forget about everything else he'd said, too. But somehow I couldn't.

Cal glanced at me. "He told you that you were Woodbane?"

"Yes," I said stiffly. "And I went inside and found it in Maeve's BOS. I am Woodbane. All of Belwicket was. Did you know?"

Cal didn't answer right away. Instead he seemed to weigh my words. He looked at the fire. "How do you feel about that?" he finally asked.

"Bad," I said honestly. "I would have been really proud to be Rowanwand or even anything else. But to be Woodbane, it's like finding out my ancestors are a long line of jailbirds and lowlifes. Worse, really. Much worse."

Cal laughed again. He turned to me. "No, it's not, my love. It's not that bad."

"How can you say that?"

"It's easy," he said with a grin. "Nowadays it isn't a big deal. Like I said, people have sort of a prejudiced view of Woodbanes, but they're ignoring all their good qualities, like strength, and loyalty, and power, and pursuit of knowledge."

I stared at him. "You didn't know I was a Woodbane? I'm sure your mom does."

Cal shook his head. "No, I didn't know. I haven't read Maeve's book, and Mom didn't discuss it with me. Listen, knowing you're Woodbane isn't a bad thing. It's better than not knowing your clan at all. Better than being a mongrel I've always thought the Woodbanes have gotten a bad rap-you know, revisionist history."

I turned back to the fire. "He said you were Woodbane, too," I whispered.

"We don't know what we are," Cal said quietly. "Mom has done a lot of research, but it isn't clear. But if we were, would it matter to you? Would you not love me?"

"Of course it wouldn't matter," I said. The flames crackled with life before us, and I rested my head on Cal's shoulder. As upset as I had been, I was starting to feel better. I gently kicked off my shoes and stretched my feet out to the fire. My socks hung loose. The heat felt delicious on my toes, and I sighed. I still had more questions to ask.

"Why did Hunter say he was your brother?"

Cal's eyes darkened. "Because my dad's a high priest and very powerful. Hunter wants to be that way, too. And he is the son of the woman my father married after he left my mom. So we're at least stepbrothers."

I swallowed, wincing. "Ouch," I murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. I wish I'd never met him."

"How did you meet?" I asked cautiously.

"At a convention, two years ago," Cal answered.

I was startled into laughter. "A witch convention?"

"Uh-huh," said Cal, smiling a little. "I met Hunter, and he informed me we were only six months apart and brothers. Which would mean that my father had deliberately gotten another woman pregnant while my mom was pregnant with me. I hated Hunter for that. I still don't want to believe it. So no matter what Hunter says, I say that his father is someone else, not my dad. I can't accept that my father, total jerk that he is, would have done that." He put his arm around me, and I rested my chin on his chest hearing the steady thumping of his heart, sleepily watching the fire.

"Is that why Hunter is acting this way?"

"Yeah, I think so. Somehow he's all… I don't know, bent and twisted. It must have something to do with his childhood. I know I shouldn't hate him—it's not his fault my dad's life is so messy. But he just—got off on telling me that my dad fathered him. Like he enjoyed hurting me."

I gently stroked Cal's wavy hair. "I'm sorry," I said again.

Cal gave a rueful chuckle, and I wanted to comfort him, the way he had comforted me so many times. Gently, I kissed him, trying to give him love he could be sure of. He almost purred with contentment and held me closer.

"Why was Hunter here, in your mother's house, the night when she had the circle?" I asked softly when I stopped for breath.

"He likes to keep in touch with us," Cal said sarcastically. "I don't know why. Sometimes I think he likes Mom and me to just remember he's alive, that he exists. Rubbing our faces in it, I guess."

I shuddered. "Ugh. He's horrible. I don't feel the least bit sorry for him. I just can't stand him—and I hate what he's doing to you. If he keeps on, he'd better watch out."

Cal grinned. "Mmmm, I like it when you talk tough."

"I'm serious," I told him. "I'll zap him with witch fire so hard, he won't know what hit him." I flexed my fingers, surprised at the violence of my own feelings.

Cal's smile broadened, but he said, "Look, let's just change the subject." He kissed me, then pulled away. "I have a question for you. What are you thinking about in terms of college?"

I furrowed my brow, surprised and bemused. "I'm not sure," I said. "For a while I thought I'd apply to MIT or maybe Cal Tech. You know, something for math."

"Brain," Cal teased affectionately.