Page 34 of Waltzing With Witches

“I suppose I could have, but it wouldn’t have been any easier,” I state. “There is no easier way to explain my decisions.”

She sidesteps toward the door. “You are a foolish ass of a man, and I don’t have a single fucking thing to say to you except that I need space. You won’t have any problem giving me that, I assume?”

Without waiting for my answer, she darts out the door. The sound of her footsteps pounding the carpet as she flees for the stairs echoes, each one a punch to the gut.

I knew this story wouldn’t have a happy ending. I just didn’t realize it would still hurt so much.

CHAPTER TEN

MORGAN

Oh my God, I am mad. I am hopping mad.

Who does he think he is? And it’s the middle of the goddamn night, so I can’t even call Thea or Wren or Lou to complain about what a fucking asshat the Keeper is.

Even so, a small part of me drags my emotional self back to the Anberlin concert. Back to that night where a mysterious stranger kissed me at midnight. Back to the night where he kissed me like I was the other half of his soul. Then he disappeared into the crowd, and I never saw him again.

I stomp up the stairs before remembering my luggage is on the first floor. So I stomp extra loud back down, grab it, and fling the first bedroom door open, remembering at the last second that the castle might not take kindly to violence.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking mad!” I shout at the ceiling.

The door to my room shuts with a quiet snick.

“Who does he think he is?” I yell, pacing toward the wall of windows. “Making all these damn decisions without bothering to ask how I feel. Misogyny at its finest. You know what? Go toss him out on his ass, would you?”

The castle goes silent and still, admonishing me.

I flop down in the window seat, gazing out at the beautiful dark pine forest that surrounds us.

Crossing my arms, I let my head fall against the wide window frame. “You’re right, of course. He needs a place to sleep.”

The closet door opens, and the floor ripples, shoving a box across the room toward me. It stops at my feet. The floor bops once, the top of the box flopping open.

Dusty magazines fill the box.

Keeping Daily

Adjusting to Your Role as Keeper

What to Do When Keeping Sucks

Each one has the Hearth HQ logo printed along the bottom. Gross. Propaganda from monster headquarters, then. I grab the top three and sit back in the window seat, flipping absentmindedly through the pages. After a few minutes, I realize what the castle’s doing—trying to get me to learn more about Keepers.

I glance around the dark, opulent room. “You’re saying I should try to understand? Do you not see why I’m mad?”

All the black covers on my bed lift and rise on an invisible current, twisting and torquing before flopping neatly back onto the mattress.

“Okay,” I bark. “I’d like to understand. But for someone to be your mate and make all the decisions without consulting you is, like, really a dick move. Thea and Wren’s mates didn’t pull this horse shit.”

A floorboard under the box of magazines shoots upright, dumping them all out. A small box tumbles free—an honest-to-God VHS tape.

I pick it up. The faded and worn label says “Keeper Transition—A. Zeniphon.”

Oh my God. Is this a video of the Keeper becoming the Keeper? A rush of alarm sweeps through me. If that’s what this is, do I want to see it? Downstairs he said Evenia forced him to go through with it.

The castle goes still and silent like he’s holding his breath. Anxiety prickles along my skin, my fingers twitching.

Outside my bedroom window, an owl hoots softly. I glance out, watching the moon high in the sky.

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