By the time I walked into the dining room, everyone was laughing and chatting. Hunter sent me a look that instantly made me feel warm all over, and I headed for my seat between him and Mary K.

“Now that everyone’s here,” Aunt Eileen said as I slid into the chair across from her, “Paula and I have some news.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“We’ve filed our papers,” Paula said with a sheepish grin.

“The adoption agency said that we should get a green light within the next ten weeks,” Aunt Eileen added.

“Then you’ll get a baby?” Mary K. asked. “That’s great!”

I smiled, unsure what to say. I was happy for Paula and Aunt Eileen, but I couldn’t help feeling a little weird. After all, I had only found out a few months before that I was adopted. It was a discovery that had led me to realize I was a blood witch, descended from a long line of powerful Wiccan women.

There was a moment of awkward silence, as if everyone was waiting for my response. I looked at my aunt, knowing how much she wanted me to be happy for her. “Congratulations, ” I said finally. “That’s—that’s great.”

“That will be a lucky baby,” Hunter said, and Aunt Eileen beamed at him.

Under the table, he reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Turning to my mother, Hunter held up a forkful of roast beef and said, “Mrs. Rowlands, this American smokehouse flavor is unbelievable—it’s something we never get in England.”

My mother hid her grin behind her napkin. “Thank you,” she said.

I concentrated on my food so that I wouldn’t look at him and laugh. It was strange to see Hunter acting so confident and natural with my parents. When we were alone together, he tended to be more reserved, even a little intense.

“Mr. Rowlands, Morgan tells me that you’re very interested in physics,” Hunter went on. “Did you happen to read that article in Scientific American about the neutrino collector they’re building in Switzerland?”

I could see by Dad’s face that this topic of conversation was his idea of heaven. Mom raised her eyebrows at me. On my other side, Mary K. leaned back in her chair to give me a broad wink.

I couldn’t believe this night was going so well.

Once we were finished with dinner, Mary K. and I cleared the table and brought out dessert plates. Then I went back into the kitchen to grab the black-bottom pie. Just as I walked in from the dining room, the back door blew open with a bang. I jumped and turned around. Was someone out there? I walked to the door and cast out my senses.

I felt nothing. I took a quick lungful of the crisp night air. It was the middle of February, and in the moonlight the trees loomed black beneath their shrouds of snow. I shivered suddenly. It’s just the wind, I told myself as I crossed to the door and grabbed the doorknob. Looking out into the night, I was hit with a sudden image of my old boyfriend, Cal Blaire. His dark, shaggy hair and golden eyes swam in my brain for a dizzying second, and then, just as quickly, the image was gone, leaving me with a dull ache in my chest.

Cal.

For a moment I tried to picture this evening with Cal at the dinner table instead of Hunter, but I couldn’t. Cal had introduced me to Wicca, and he had told me that he loved me and that I was special. . but I had always felt insecure around him. Not that I’m particularly secure to begin with when it comes to guys, but there was something about Cal that made me feel like he was doing me a favor by listening to me.

It had turned out that he only got to know me in the first place because his mother, Selene, wanted to drain me of my magick. She had almost succeeded, but at the end Cal had given his life to stop her. That had left me with a deep well of confusion and sadness. Cal had betrayed me, but in his own way, he had loved me.

“Where’s that pie? The natives are getting restless,” Mary K. said as she strode into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw my face. “Are you okay?”

I gave my head a quick shake to clear it and shut the outside door. “Sorry.” I crossed the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. “I was just off in my own world for a minute. The pie’s right here.” I handed it to her.

“I think this is going really well, don’t you?” Mary K. asked in a low voice as she pulled open the silverware drawer and got out a knife.

“Shockingly well,” I agreed. I was grateful that Mary K. was being so supportive. She wasn’t exactly a huge fan of Wicca, either, but she really liked Hunter.

My dad’s black-bottom pie was a treat, thick with nuts and silky chocolate. Once it was served, conversation slowed as everyone savored each bite.

“I’m stuffed,” Aunt Eileen said, once she had finished her pie.

“Everything was delicious,” Paula chimed in.

My dad looked around the table. “Coffee in the living room?”

“Hunter?” my mom prompted. “Coffee? Or maybe you’d like some tea?”

“Nothing for me, thanks. I’ll help Morgan and Mary K. with the dishes,” Hunter said. He started gathering plates. I joined in, torn between awe and embarrassment.

“How am I doing?” Hunter whispered as we walked into the kitchen.

I snorted. “I never knew you were such a ham. Or rather, such a smokehouse-flavored roast beef. I think my parents are just about ready to adopt you.”

“Fine with me. Can I share your room?” He gave me a look, and my heartbeat suddenly picked up.

“Eww, Morgan!” Mary K. said from the sink, where she was scraping food into the garbage disposal. “Is this your plate? I can’t believe you hid your roast beef under a pile of mashed potatoes!”

“Well, you didn’t expect me to eat it, did you?” I countered. “I didn’t see you asking for seconds, either.”

“I don’t like red meat,” Mary K. said primly.

“I thought the roast beef was good,” Hunter said, looking surprised.

Mary K. and I snickered. “Well, he is British,” Mary K. pointed out.

“I thought you were just sucking up to my mom,” I told Hunter. “The fact that you were actually sincere is a little scary. Should I worry about you?”

Hunter laughed, and I felt a rush of delight. It was a surprising sound—deep and rich—and one I didn’t hear all that often, especially lately. A few weeks ago Hunter and I had gone to New York to investigate Amyranth, a coven of Woodbane witches. The Woodbanes were one of the Seven Great Clans of Wicca—the ancient clans of blood witches. Historically, Woodbanes were dedicated to expanding their own power at any cost.

In a horrible surprise we’d discovered that one of Amyranth’s leaders, and the man who killed my birth mother, was actually my birth father, Ciaran MacEwan. Ciaran had almost killed me, too, before he realized I was his daughter. The realization that I had come from someone so totally evil had thrown me into a tailspin, and for a while Hunter and I had broken up. During that time, Ciaran had manipulated me into almost killing him. But now we were back together—ironically, thanks to Ciaran—and Hunter’s warm laugh in my family’s bright yellow kitchen made all the horrible things we’d been through seem like they’d happened ages ago instead of only weeks.

“All right, Mary K.,” I said, “I’ll scrape the dishes if you’ll clear off the table.”

“Deal,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel.

“You scrape, I’ll stack,” Hunter said. Once Mary K. was out of earshot, he gestured after her. “How is she?”

I felt a pang. Twice in the last week Mary K. had woken up screaming from a nightmare about being trapped in a small room. I was worried that these dreams were tied to the night months ago when Selene had kidnapped Mary K. and used her as bait to lure me to her house. Mary K., spelled by Selene, had seemed unaware of the horrible battle Hunter and I had fought with Selene, but I always suspected that at least some part of that evening had penetrated her subconscious. Now I was afraid the suppressed knowledge might be boiling up into her conscious mind.