Bree caught my eye and gave me a cautious little grin. She knew how uncomfortable I was in social situations. I had always counted on her to get me through them. I smiled back.

To my surprise, she walked over to me. "Hey, Morgan. That skirt looks great on you."

"Mary K. put this outfit together for me," I confessed.

Bree laughed, not meanly. "I figured." We stood side by side for a moment, looking out at the crowd. Then she asked quietly, "Is it hard for you, being here without Cal?"

I glanced at her, startled. I hadn't expected anything that direct. But as I met her gaze, I wanted so badly to reconnect with her.

"Everything feels hard with him gone," I said. My words tumbled out. "I miss him all the time. I feel like such a moron. It's like something out of a tabloid: High School Witch Grieves for Would-be Murderer."

"You're not a moron," she said. "You really cared about him. And—and maybe in some twisted way, he really cared about you, too."

I nodded numbly. I knew that it had been hard for her to say that. She had wanted Cal for herself. And it made me feel less like an idiot to think that he did care for me, even just a little.

Bree hesitated. "You know, I've been thinking about the way he played us."

I froze. Bree was treading on dangerous ground here.

"What I'm saying is. ." She looked massively uncomfortable, then plunged ahead. "I think Cal deliberately slept with me, knowing it would set us against each other."

I gaped at her. "What?"

"He wanted to isolate you," she explained. "Come on, Morgan. You and I were best friends. We talked about everything. We trusted each other." Bree's voice started to quaver, and I could see her fighting to steady it, "Cal was trying to take you over, to control you completely. It would make sense for him to make sure he was the only one you talked to, the only one you really trusted. If he split us up, you'd be more dependent on him."

In a flash of sickening clarity, I realized she was right. I felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach. Every time I thought I'd faced the worst about Cal, I found more—new and deeper layers of deception on his part, blindness on mine.

"He pitted us against each other. He used us both," Bree said.

I nodded, unable to speak, seeing more layers falling away. But as I stood there, trying to process it all, it occurred to me that even if Bree was right about Cal, no one had forced her to do the cruel things she'd done to me. Maybe things were mending between us, but they could never go back to what they had once been. We'd never trust each other the way we used to. I felt incredibly sad.

"What happened to David?" Bree said, pulling my attention back to the room.

"What?" I asked.

She nodded toward the counter. David was dipping a carrot stick into some hummus. His left hand was wrapped in a white gauze bandage.

"I don't know," I said. "Let's go find out."

Before I could move, Mary K. emerged from the back room and, to my astonishment walked up onto the platform and took the mike. "Excuse me. Could I have everyone's attention, please?" she said. When the room was quiet, she announced with a huge grin, "I'm pleased to introduce The Fianna!"

Practical Magick erupted into applause as The Fianna made their way onto the stage. They were four skinny young guys and a wisp of a girl with short red hair. She launched into an a cappella verse in a voice that was positively haunting. It reminded me of Hunter's voice when he sang the chant in our circle, a voice drawn out of the world of our ancestors, a pure, shimmering thread that connected us to the past.

I jumped when I heard Hunter's voice behind me. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly.

Bree gave me a questioning look and then moved to rejoin Sky across the room.

"Not here," Hunter said. Taking my elbow, he led me through the crowded room and out the door.

"It's freezing out here," I complained, crossing my arms over my nonexistent chest. "And I want to hear The Fianna."

"Morbid Irish ballads later," he said. "Believe me, there are plenty more where those came from." He opened the door to Sky's green car. "Get in."

I ducked into the passenger seat, muttering, "Do you always have to order me around?"

He grinned. "It's the cold," he said. "Don't have time for the niceties. Don't want you freezing in that pretty outfit." He shut my door, then climbed into the driver's seat.

Flustered at hearing the word pretty come out of his mouth in reference to me, I sat there in silence.

He turned on the heat then rubbed his hands to warm them up. "I went to that field. Where you thought the first dark presence might have been."

"Wh-what did you find out?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear his answer.

He shook his head. "I don't think it was Selene."

"Really?" My heart returned to its normal rhythm. But then it sped up again as I asked, "But then who? What?"

Hunter let out a sigh. "That's just it. I'm not entirely sure. There was a dark ritual performed there—you were right about that." He gave me a quick glance. I knew my abilities as a beginning witch still surprised him. "But the traces I found of the ritual suggested to me that whoever performed it was someone who had to work quite hard to conjure power."

"What kind of traces?" I was fascinated in spite of myself.

"Blood, among other things," Hunter said, and I gasped. "One of the ways to summon a dark spirit is with a blood offering. But that isn't something Selene would need to do."

I shut my eyes. "Do you think it was Cal?" I asked in a low voice.

"It could be. But why he'd do work like that without Selene. . well, it just doesn't add up."

I felt a tiny flicker of hope. Maybe Cal had left Selene. Maybe he was on his own because he'd come back to be with me. I doused that flame by reminding myself that it had been dark magick that I had felt, which would mean that Cal would still be incredibly dangerous.

I shivered, and it wasn't with cold. "If it's not Cal and Selene, who could it be? Who would perform a dark magick ritual?" I asked. I glanced at the door to Practical Magick, wondering if the wayward witch was inside. Among us. And what he or she would do next.

Hunter didn't respond. He looked straight ahead.

"What?" I demanded, a prickle of foreboding making the hairs on my arms stand up. "What aren't you telling me?" I was so sick of secrets and lies that my voice was louder than I had planned.

Hunter's jaw tightened, then he turned to face me. "You won't like this. I don't, either. But hasn't it occurred to you that Practical Magick was saved just in the nick of time? Don't you find it convenient that Stuart Afton has forgiven this huge debt, out of the blue?"

I stared at him. "Alyce said the guy had a windfall," I explained. "If I suddenly came into lots of money, I'd be generous, too."

Hunter smirked at me. "You, clearly, are not a businessman."

"It's not possible," I snapped. "Are you really suggesting that David and Alyce used some kind of dark magick to get Stuart Afton to cancel the debt?"

"Not necessarily Alyce," Hunter said. "But David, yes—I think it's possible. Did you notice the bandage on his hand?"

"What about it?" I asked, nonplussed.

"Remember the blood I found in the field?"

"Huh?" At first I didn't understand what he was trying to say. But then I got it, and it was so absurd, I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, please. Are you saying David hurt his hand making a blood offering to a dark spirit? Come on! There are a dozen other ways he could have hurt himself. Did you even ask him about it?"

"Not yet," Hunter admitted.

"I can't believe you're thinking this way," I said. "I mean, we know Cal and Selene use dark magick, and we know the magick was done in a place Cal used to go to. Why are you even bringing David into it? Why do you have to be suspicious about everything?" I was starting to get worked up again. "Why can't good news just be good news?"