September 3, 1971

I feel sick. This afternoon Sam showed me a book he had just “discovered”. When I saw the cover, I nearly dropped the book in terror. It was a first edition of Harris Stonghton’s book, On the Containement of Magick.

I couldn’t figure out where he’d found it. My parents haven’t told him about their library yet, and even if they had, I doubt they own any books by Harris Stonghton. Sam told me that he’d found the book in the public library and had just taken it. He stole the book. He told me that he thought the book wanted him to have it.

I couldn’t believe this was the brother I’d known for his entire life. I asked Sam if he had any idea who Harris Stonghton was, and of course he didn’t. I should hope not. I explained that Stonghton was the most notorious witch in New England—that he used dark magick and antiwitch hysteria to wipe out as many non-Woodbane witches as he could. He even killed a couple of our blood relatives, although I didn’t tell Sam that. I could tell he felt guilty enough as it was.

I thought that would be the end of it, but when I handed him the book and asked him what he planned to do with it, Sam just said that he wasn’t sure. I know my brother. If I try to force him to get rid of it, he’ll only want to hold on to it more. Part of me wants to tell our parentsabout this, but a larger part of me is afraid of how they’ll react.

Goddess, grant me wisdom. And grant me courage to live in the house with that evil book.

— Sarah Curtis

The tall redbrick form of Widow’s Vale High School rose bleakly against the gray February sky. I tried to shrug off the feeling of gloom that crept over me as I trudged toward the front door. Morning was never my finest hour, and the short winter days didn’t help much. Neither did the fact that Mary K. had gotten a ride to school with her friend Susan Wallace instead of with me. She wasn’t speaking to me.

“Hey, Morgan!” Jenna Ruiz stopped me as I stepped into the front hall. Her blond hair was swept up into a ponytail, and she was wearing a brown sweater and dark jeans. Her tentative smile made her look young and unsure. It was funny to remember that before I had joined the coven, I had found Jenna slightly intimidating. “Going my way?” she asked, jerking her head toward the stairwell that led down to the basement—our coven’s winter hangout.

I tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear. “Where else?” I replied, and we fell into step together.

Jenna pushed open the door to the stairwell. Most of our regular coven crowd had already gathered. My good friend Robbie Gurevitch was sitting on the bottom step, leaning against Bree Warren’s knees. Her arms were draped over his shoulders. Ethan Sharp and Sharon Goodfine sat higher up and to the left.

Raven Meltzer stood at the bottom of the stairs, by the banister. She was wearing a red velvet shirt and low-slung black leather pants that showed off the flame tattoo around her navel. It was actually a demure look for Raven. I, on the other hand, could never pull off that look in my wildest dreams. As I studied her, I wondered if Raven had gotten my cosmic share of curves.

The pale winter light that leaked in through the window at the top of the landing cast a faint glow on everyone’s faces. I leaned against the wall by the bottom stair, and Bree smiled at me, taking away at least part of the February chill.

“Hey,” she said warmly. “How did it go last night?”

“Great,” I replied. “Everyone was charming, everyone was charmed.”

Sharon took off her baby blue cardigan and slung it over her shoulders. “What are we talking about?” she asked.

“Hunter did the official parental dinner last night,” Robbie explained.

“Oh, man,” Ethan said. “Cruel and unusual.” Sharon dug her elbow into his knee. “Ouch!” he yelped. “I was just saying. .”

“No, it’s true,” I agreed. “It was a little tense at first. But everyone was on their best behavior. It went well.”

“Not surprising,” Robbie said. “Hunter is every parent’s dream.”

I looked at him, surprised. “How so?” I asked.

Robbie shrugged. “Hunter’s responsible, he’s generous, he’s intelligent. And everyone can see that he’s good for you, Morgan.”

“Besides, he’s a witch,” Raven added dryly. “What parent wouldn’t be thrilled?”

I ignored Raven’s comment, pleased with what Robbie had said. He and I were close friends, but we’d had a fight a while back. He’d thought I was misusing my powers, and he’d had a point. But I was learning to be more responsible. It was good to know that Robbie realized my relationship with Hunter was a big part of that.

“Hey, Morgan,” Ethan piped up, “have you heard anything from Killian?”

Killian was Ciaran’s son and my half brother. I had gotten to know him slightly over the past few weeks, but after he’d come up to visit me in Widow’s Vale and behaved really badly, he’d pretty much dropped out of sight.

“No,” I said, feeling a twinge of regret. Killian was irresponsible, reckless, possibly even dangerous—but I really liked him. And I liked having a big brother. “I don’t know where he is. Back in New York, probably.”

I heard the door open and looked up to see Alisa Soto, one of the newer members of our coven. She was a sophomore with thick golden brown hair and dark eyes that were so large, she appeared almost owlish. “Hi, everyone,” she said shyly. She looked at me uncertainly. “Hey, Morgan.”

“Hi,” I replied, pleased to see her. She was younger than the rest of us and usually hung out with the other underclassmen before school. I guessed that her appearance meant she was finally—after weeks—starting to relax around us.

Sharon gave Alisa a bright smile and patted the space beside her. Alisa walked down to sit next to Sharon, murmuring hello to Bree and Robbie along the way.

Robbie glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to the library,” he said. Bree released him reluctantly. “I’ve got to grab these last ten minutes to study before Spanish.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bree said quickly.

An odd look flickered across Robbie’s face, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone. “Great,” he said. “Let’s go. Later, guys.” He waved and headed up the stairs.

Bree reached out and squeezed my arm. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay? I want to hear all the details.”

“Sure,” I said. I watched, puzzled, as she turned and trotted after Robbie. It struck me as odd that Bree wanted to go with Robbie instead of hanging out with the rest of us. It wasn’t really Bree’s style to seek out extra study time.

“So Morgan, did you study for the test?” Jenna asked, slipping into Robbie’s seat.

My stomach dropped. “Test?” I asked.

Jenna bit her lip. “You’ve got Powell, right?” she asked. “I thought he was giving all of his sections a test on the Civil War today.”

It came back to me with sudden vividness and I groaned. “I thought that was next Thursday,” I said. I was totally screwed.

Jenna touched my arm. “What period do you have history? ” she asked.

“Fifth.”

“Great—that’s not until after lunch,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll give you my notes on the reading and you can study them then, along with your class notes.” She dug in her backpack and pulled out the notes. “Here,” she said, handing them over. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

I really had no choice but to try to believe her. “Thanks,” I said as the first bell rang. I had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.

By the time I slid into my 1971 Plymouth Valiant—affectionately nicknamed Das Boot—my arms were practically shaking with exhaustion. I’d hidden Jenna’s notes behind my textbook in every class. Unfortunately, the cramming hadn’t helped. I’d wanted to tell Mr. Powell not to bother grading my exam. I knew I’d flunked.