Page 76 of Spell Ya Later

There’s a scrap of paper stuck to the door with tape and magic. The magic is thick and oily andwrong.

I slowly approach the paper, dread filling my every step. Am I shaking? I wring my hands, causing them to burn just as much as my heart does.

It’s a single sheet, folded in half.

“Hazel,” I read aloud. “You will come to the address below at eight p.m. tonight if you wish to spare Noah the same fate as your father. It would be a shame. I don’t play games. Tonight or he’s dead. Draven.”

My body vibrates. My ears burn as if they will catch on fire, as if my whole body will catch on fire.

I’ll kill him. If he lays even a single hand on Noah, I will kill him. Or I’ll die trying.

The door window cracks as wind gusts around me in a violent torrent. Leaves whip fast enough to cut my skin.

No more bullshit. No more family drama. I’m done with it. Those stubborn women are going to help me or I will tear that house to the damn ground. Sentient or not.

My feet don’t touch the ground as I power walk—power levitate?—to my mother’s house. I don’t care if anyone can see me, they can just deal with it. Or follow me and burn me at the stake.

Screw it.

The door slams open before me as I blow in with a burst of wind.

“Come down herenow!” I yell. It’s the same as it has always been, except messier. I can’t tell if that’s because of my wind tornado or because they’ve let things go.

Laura is the first to pop her sleep-rumpled head round the corner. “Are you PMS-ing?”

My glare must be fierce because instead of continuing on whatever tirade she had planned, she hangs her head and comes the rest of the way down the stairs.

“Mom!” I demand, using the full force of the wind to carry my voice to every inch of this house. “Get down here now!”

Laura makes a show of covering her ears but remains silent. A smart move on her part. I’d probably tear her head off just like I want to tear off Draven’s.

Mom leisurely waltzes in from the living room at the most turtle pace I have ever seen. She’s almost reveling in being as annoying as possible. The clack of her heels slows as she rounds the stairs and stops at the bottom of them, next to Laura.

“Yes?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Thenerve.“Draven took Noah.”

Laura’s eyebrows shoot into her hair but Mom’s face remains passive.

“Who’s Noah?”

“My. Soulmate.”

Laura scoffs. “That’s a little dramatic, Hazel. I know you like him, but soulmate?”

I ignore her, keeping eye contact with Mom. I watch as her face falls, as some of the carefully constructed mask cracks. As she realizes just exactly how fucked this entire situation is. And as she builds that wall right back up, the neutral expression slips into place as quickly as it left.

“I’m taking care of it, Hazel.”

“How could you say that to me? You’retaking care of it? I will be damned if that piece of shit takes another soulmate away from this family.”

Her face hardens further, years of whatever the hell she’s been repressing climbing up her skin, covering her like a suit ofarmor. “And I will be damned if he kills another member of this family.”

“So no one cares that I have no idea what’s going on?” Laura sighs. “Cool.”

“Draven will kill all of us if you keep doing this lone wolf bullshit, Mom. We have to do this together,” I say.

“Pot meet kettle,” Laura mutters.