I’m pretty positive it isn’t even a bedroom, unless the person furnishing it is a huge fan of Scary Dungeons ’R’ Us.
“Where are we?” I ask when I can finally find my voice again.
Amka steps in before Jaxon or my family can answer. Squatting down next to me—and for the first time, I realize I’m on the floor—she asks, “Where do you think you are?”
“I don’t know.” I look around again, this time hoping to find a clue as agitation builds inside me. I’m just beginning to realize that not only do I not know where I am, but I also have absolutely no idea how I got here.
And can I just say, this is seriously getting old?
The last thing I remember is sitting down to work in the library, with a sparkling water and some M&M’s. After that…nothing. It’s a blank. Again.
“Is someone hurt?” I demand, panic roaring through me. “Did I do it again? Did I attack someone?”
“No, Grace. Everything’s fine.” Amka puts what I know she means to be a calming hand on my shoulder, but it doesn’t work. It just makes me more freaked out, as does the low, soothing tone of her voice.
“Don’t do that. Don’t try to placate me.” I push away from her, leap to my feet…and turn to Jaxon. “Please, please don’t lie to me. Did I hurt someone? Did I—”
“No!” He says it much more vehemently, voice adamant and eyes steady as he stares into mine. “You didn’t hurt anyone, I swear. You’re the one we’re worried about right now.”
“Why? What happened?” I believe Jaxon, I do, but the memory of waking up covered in blood this morning is so strong that I can’t help looking down at my hands, my clothes, just to make sure. Just to feel safe.
I’m not bloody, thank God. But the sleeve of my blazer is ripped all to hell. Because that’s not terrifying at all, considering it’s just now reaching a high of freezing outside.
Suddenly, the concern on everyone’s faces makes a lot more sense. They aren’t worried that I hurt someone. This time, they’re worried that I’m the one who’s gotten hurt.
I swallow the fear exploding inside me like a hand grenade and try to breathe. I am going to figure this out. It’s bad enough that I lost four months to this mess. No way am I going to just accept that I’ve brought it back with me. No way am I going to let this become my new normal.
“Where am I?” I ask for a second time, because I am absolutely positive I’ve never been in a room with a crystal ball before ever, let alone at Katmere Academy. And I’ve certainly never been in a room with a candle collection that rivals Bath & Body Works—if Bath & Body Works was into carved-up ritual candles and enough incense to cover Alaska twice over.
“You’re in the casting tower,” Macy tells me.
“The casting tower?” I didn’t even know there was such a thing.
“It’s on the opposite side of the castle from my room,” Jaxon adds in what I assume is an attempt to help me get my bearings.
“Oh, right. The smaller tower on the gazebo side.” I shove a hand—one that I’m working overtime to keep steady—through my curls. “I guess I just always assumed it was somebody else’s dorm room.”
“Nope.” Macy shoots me a grin that almost touches her eyes. “Your boyfriend is the only one who rates a tower. This one belongs to all the witches.”
Of course it belongs to the witches. If it belonged to anyone else, I’d be really concerned. Especially since I just looked down and realized that I am standing dead center in the middle of a giant pentagram.
And not just any giant pentagram. The giant pentagram that makes up the center of an even more giant casting circle…
Oh, hell no. Lia cured me of ever wanting to be anywhere close to the middle of another spell. Ever.
I take several big steps backward, not because I want to get away from Jaxon or Macy or the others but because I am getting the hell out of this circle. Now.
Call it an overabundance of caution, call it PTSD, call it whatever the hell you want; I don’t care. No way am I spending another second in a circle surrounded by red and black candles.
No, thank you.
The rest of them follow me, because of course they do. Each of them takes a step forward for each step I take