And then I thought of Morgan.

“Morgan?” I called on Wednesday morning. I had been lurking in the parking lot, waiting for her and Mary K. to arrive. Mary K. had popped out of the car, looking cute and fresh, the way she always did. I’d waited till she’d gone off to hang with our other friends; then Morgan had wearily swung herself out of her humongous white car and I called to her. I’d seen Morgan in the morning before and wasn’t sure it was smart to talk to her this early. Besides her usual non-morning-person vibe, today she looked a little haggard, like she hadn’t been sleeping.

She turned her head, and I stepped forward and waved. I saw the faint surprise in her eyes—she knew I tried to avoid her sometimes. As I got closer, I saw that she was drinking a small bottle of orange juice, trying to slug it down before the bell rang. Hilary would be glad that at least Morgan was paying attention to her blood sugar.

“Hey, Alisa,” Morgan said. “Mary K. went thataway.” She pointed to the main building of Widow’s Vale High, then glanced around us, as if to assure herself she was actually at school.

“Uh, okay. But actually I wanted to talk to you,” I said quickly.

She slurped her drink.

“Are you okay?” I couldn’t help asking.

She nodded and wiped her mouth on her jacket sleeve. “Yeah. I just... didn’t get much sleep last night. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” She gave another sideways glance, and I wondered if she was supposed to meet someone.

“Well, I have to tell you—I took your book on Monday.” There. I’d gotten it out.

She gave me a blank look.

“Your green book. That you had Monday in your backpack. Well, I took it.”

Morgan’s brows creased: The rusty gears of her brain were slowly creaking to a start as the OJ flowed into her system. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to her backpack—the scene of the crime—as if clues would still be there. “Oh, that green book? The Book of Shadows? You took it? Why?”

“Yes. I took it on Monday. And I read it. And I need to talk to you about it.”

Suddenly she looked more alert. “Okay. Do you still have it?”

“Yeah. I want to keep it. It’s... it’s about a woman named Sarah Curtis, who lived in in Gloucester, Massachusetts, in the seventies.”

“Uh-huh.” Go on, and feel free to start making sense, Alisa.

I gulped down some chilly air, hating what was about to come out. “Sarah Curtis, from that book, the witch, was my mother. I’m pretty sure.” Like, positive.

Morgan blinked and shifted her weight. “Why do you think that?” she said finally.

“My mom’s name was Sarah Curtis, and she lived in Gloucester, Massachusetts. There were things in the diary that reminded me of things about my mom and that my dad has told me about her. And then, after I had read it, I went to the jewelry box she left me and found a secret compartment underneath. I opened it, and there were letters inside from an uncle I didn’t know about, and he talked about magick. In one of the letters he said congratulations about your new daughter, Alisa. In Texas. Which is where I was born.” I took a a deep breath. “Sarah Curtis was a Rowanwand witch.”

Now I had her complete attention. Her eyebrows raised up in pointy arches, and she seemed to stare right into my brain. “But your dad isn’t, is he?” I shook my head. “So you think you’re half witch?”

“Yes,” I said stiffly.

She shifted her weight and glanced around again. What was with her? “Half witch. You. Jeez, how do you feel about it? It’s kind of a shock.”

I gave a dry laugh.“Shock doesn’t cover it. I’m so... worried. Really, really upset. I never knew any of this. I don’t think my dad knew about it, either. But all of a sudden I’m something I didn’t know, and I’m just... freaking. I don’t want to be a witch.”

Nodding, Morgan looked understanding. “I know what you mean. I went through that last November. All of a sudden I was someone else.”

I knew that was when she’d found out she was adopted. “It’s just that you—and Hunter—and the others, well, it scares me, some of the things you do. And now I find out I’m just like you—” Okay, this was not putting it well. But Morgan didn’t look offended.

“And you wish you weren’t, and you’re worried, and you don’t know what it means.”

“Yes.” A rush of relief washed over me—she did understand. Someone understood what I was going through.

The first bell rang then, and we both jumped as if poked with a cattle prod.

“I’ll never get used to that sound,” Morgan said, looking at the students filing into the buildings. “Listen, Alisa, I know how you feel. It wasn’t easy for me to find out about my heritage, either. But talking to people about it can help. Why don’t you come to the next Kithic circle on Saturday? Everyone misses you. And you could talk to Hunter or me afterward. We could be your support group.”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.” I looked down at my backpack. “So I can keep the book?”

Morgan looked at me.“I think it’s already yours.”

Why am I doing this? I asked myself. I was sitting in Das Boot in front of Hunter’s house, trying to work up the courage to just walk in. Yes, I wanted to have dinner with him; yes, I wanted to hear more about Rose MacEwan’s BOS; yes, yes, I didn’t mind escaping Mary K.’s “Thursday Dinner Special”: spinach pie. But I also couldn’t help feeling reluctant at having to see Daniel Niall again.

I cast my senses out before I got out of the car—not that being in the car, even with the doors locked, was really any protection at all. Not against a witch as strong as Ciaran. I felt nothing, reminded myself dryly that this was not necessarily a guarantee, then hurried up the uneven front walk to Hunter’s house.

He answered the door before I knocked.

“Hey,” he said, and that one word, plus the way he looked at me, dark and intense, made my knees go wobbly.

“Hi... I brought these,” I said, thrusting a paper-wrapped cone of flowers at him. I was too young to buy wine but hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed, so I’d gone to the florist on Main Street and picked out a bunch of red cockscomb. They were so odd-looking, so bloodred, I couldn’t resist them.

“Cheers.” He looked pleased, and leaned down to kiss me. “Are you all right? Has anything out of the ordinary...?”

“No.” I shook my head. “So far, so good. I just can’t shake the feeling...”

Hunter pulled me close and patted my back.“I know.”

“He could be anywhere.”

He nodded. “I do know, sweetie. But all we can do is be on our best guard. And know that if he does try anything, we’ll battle him together.”

“Together,” I said softly.

Hunter smiled. “Well, take off your jacket and come sit down. Everything’s almost ready.”

Hunter’s dad came in and looked at the table set for three. Hunter went into the kitchen, and I was left awkwardly standing there with a man who distrusted me and quite justifiably hated my father.

“Hi, Mr. Niall,” I said, managing a smile.

He nodded, then turned and went into the kitchen, where I heard murmured voices. My stomach knotted up, and I wished I were at home, scarfing down spinach pie.

Five minutes later we were sitting at the small table, the three of us, and I was working my way through Hunter’s pot roast with enthusiasm. A plate of Hunter’s really good cooking went a long way toward making me able to stand Mr. Niall.

“Oh, so much better than spinach pie,” I said, pushing my fork through a potato. I smiled at Hunter. “And you can cook.” In addition to being a fabulous kisser, a strong witch, and incredibly gorgeous.