Page 27 of Dance With Death

“Yeah, Isabella and the three witches: ‘bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,’” says Zak with a snicker.

The academy’s not-smart decision to add Macbeth to the curriculum last year led to some friction, along with complaints from bored students. “’Double, double’. At least get the words right if you’re pretending to be smart and quoting Shakespeare.”

Dane slaps me on the back. “You’re tetchy today. All because we talked about your girlfriend? Or is that the problem? Not getting what you want?”

I thin my lips. “Again, would you like me to tell Violet you’re talking about her?”

“Take out your frustration tonight?” suggests Aaron. “Fortnite session? Me and you against Dane and Zak?”

“Bring some beers. We’ll get pizza,” adds Dane.

But I’m lost in thoughts about what I’ll tell Violet. Darwin’s head girl is involved with witches and magic talismans. What’s Marci’s game?

I meet Eloise and Violet in the counselor’s room, and I’m again struck how much Violet resembles her mother, apart from the glacial Blackwood eyes she inherited from Dorian. Eloise looks ordinary, casual, wearing a loose blue sweater over black pants, her long hair tied from her face. Violet and her mother are both delicate to the point I’d worry about someone accidentally snapping their slender wrists, if they were human.

I sat in here once before, with Violet the day I interrupted her magic at the memorial afternoon. At the time, I had no clue what possessed me to take hold of a girl who could snap my wrist in two. Violet changed toward me that day. Only subtly, but as if my ability to silence and restrain her put me in Violet’s sights, and not only because this worried her. Violet noticed me. She never realized how I already felt about her, but this was when I swore she and Rowan were the perfect imperfect match.

This time, instead of unsubtly threatening to hurt me if I ever touched her again, Violet sits with my fingers gripping her small hand.

Dorian isn’t here, thank god.

Again, Eloise’s demeanor couldn’t be more opposite to Dorian’s, her smile warm and her welcome genuine. But I still can’t picture this woman keeping Dorian in check—or killing anybody. Eloise smiles as she watches us and leans forward from the chair opposite us to place a reassuring hand on my leg. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

My spine goes rigid. Try? Not what I wanted to hear.

“Nobody who’s looked could find the exact location of the spell in your conscious or unconscious mind, or I would go straight to the correct place and identify it.” She pats my leg. “I’ll need to poke around.”

“At my brain?” I ask hoarsely.

Her laughter doesn’t help my nerves. “Not physically, but you’ve experienced witches picking apart your mind.”

Yeah. Not a nice experience.

“But you’ll take care not to do too much damage?” asks Violet.

“Too much?” My voice rises. “What the hell?”

“Violet.” Eloise frowns at her daughter. “I shall take the utmost care.”

I eye the door. Living with the spell suddenly feels like the better option. “Be blunt about what might happen. Violet always is.”

“Everything will be fine, if you don’t fight back,” says Violet casually.

“Why would I? I want this spell gone!”

“As do we all.” Eloise gives me a reassuring smile that does not reassure.

“The magic might fight Eloise’s,” continues Violet. “But she’ll ensure nothing explodes in your head.”

“Okay.” I stand. “Um. Can we do this later?”

“Honestly, Violet. You’re being very dramatic, and that isn’t helping Leif.” Eloise stands too.

“Can you knock me out?” I ask.

“Knock you out of what?” Violet looks up at me.

“Can Eloise do this to me when I’m unconscious? Everything you’re saying sounds like brain surgery.”

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