Page 38 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

Jun materializes in a puff of smoke, with his wings and horns on full display.

“Stop it!” I swat, almost playfully, at his arm. “Some of us are here to study.”

“Is that really what you’re doing?” He leans closer, his chin resting on my shoulder as he peers at the book in my hands. “The Witch Way: Enchanting Every Day. Doesn’t sound like you’re here to study.”

“But I am.”

Technically, it’s still studying, even if it has nothing to do with my courses.

“That book won’t have the answers you’re looking for.” He clicks his tongue and makes his way down the bookshelf. The book he pulls from the shelf is dark and dusty, appearing untouched for months. Perhaps years. He blows the dust off the cover and hands it to me. “Try this.”

“There’s no title.” My brows furrow.” How do you know this is the one?”

“A witch weapon won’t be in those corny, commercial books about hair charms and magical soups. It’ll be in something like this.”

He’s right. I flip the book open, and the first page is a long list of unsavory magic. How to curse, hex, and jinx.

“How is any of this allowed?” I flip through the pages.

“It wouldn’t be here otherwise. Humans are the ones who burn and ban books, not us.”

Information is power, or so my father always says. When I flip to the page on witch weapons, I realize he was right to say so. I pore over the pages in silence.

I hardly notice Jun is closer, reading along with me, until I feel his breath against my cheek, and his wing grazing against my back. It would feel protective… if he were someone else.

“Charming a mundane weapon to destroy the energy of a demon,” he murmurs. “It’s the only known weapon that can take their immortal life, but it’s not foolproof.”

I turn my head, meeting his eyes. He’s closer than expected, and I suppress a shudder. “The placement needs to be exact, so the person wielding it has to be decent with the weapon.”

“How good are you in combat?”

I wince. “Not very.”

“Great.” He snorts and pulls away.

I close the book shut with a snap, holding it to my chest defensively. “Oh, as if you’re any better!”

“I know how to fight,” he says. “Not all of us have the same cushy life.”

“You already admitted to being raised at boarding schools.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Fine. You can be the one to wield the weapon.”

“Fine.”

“Speaking of fathers…” I hesitate. “Have you heard from yours again?”

“Nope. Just the one dream, and he abandoned me again. Typical.”

“And what, exactly, did he say in the dream?”

“To keep my head down, and not to trust everything I hear.”

“Ominous.”

“That’s nothing new for him.” A sly smile plays on his lips. “I still don’t know what it means, but I think he was trying to warn me against you.”