Page 39 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

“It’s too bad you didn’t listen.” I shove the book at him, fully expecting him to put it away. “This thing is useless. It doesn’t even tell us how to make the weapon.”

Because, according to the pages, only a few know how. That means we have to trust Caldwell, and it doesn’t exactly put me at ease. He may claim to know how to make a witch weapon, but what if he doesn’t? What if he makes a mistake?

“I didn’t take the dream too seriously,” Jun says. “There is someone I don’t trust, but it’s my father—not you.”

I blink. “You trust me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I trust you more than I trust my father, but that’s not saying much.”

I shake my head, at a loss for words. From anyone else, the sentiment would be sweet. It’s far too sugary for us, and Jun seems to realize that quickly.

“You’d better hope your friend knows what he’s doing,” he says, placing the book neatly on the shelf.

“Oh, he knows.” I have no reason to display such confidence, but much like Tobey, no one gets to assault and mistrust Caldwell.

Except for me, of course.

I amble through the library, looking for one book in particular. The only one who will tell me anything about Strode—Jun’s father. Without saying a word, I take the History of Strode from the shelves.

“You’d better be right,” he says. “Otherwise, one of us will be stabbing an angry demon, and if the weapon doesn’t work…”

“Yes, yes,” I mutter, thumbing through the pages. “Our soul becomes a snack for the demon instead. I get it. Thank you.”

“I guess we’ll see tonight.” He backs away. “See you at midnight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Better not. If you drag your feet much longer, I’ll talk to your father on my own.”

Maybe it would be better that way—I can preserve my relationship with my family, and we can still solve this.

But I know that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Jun offered to join with me, and I can’t leave him alone, even if my life would be much easier without him.

Before I can say anything, he disappears in another puff of smoke, and I find what I’m looking for—the sigil. The same sigil I found pinned to the latest victim.

I snap a picture and swiftly send it to the group text.

Tobey

Oh. My. God.

Margaux

It’s Strode’s sigil.

He really is involved.

And I can really trust Jun. Maybe.

Chapter Eleven

We meet Caldwell on the roof, as expected. The dead night leaves the moon as the only beacon of hope and magic. The other buildings around campus are quiet as well, with the occasional light flickering and shining through the windows of the stony building.

Around Caldwell, few items are strewn on the ground: a shiny dagger, a satchel of herbs, and a vial of blood. I wince. Blood doesn’t make me queasy, considering my drink of choice, but I know Tobey isn’t accustomed to the ways of our world.

When I look at them, they appear perfectly calm. No flinch, no tremble.

“Are you okay?” I stand by their side and squeeze their shoulder.