This is your official invitation to join the fun

“I want to ensure you won’t curse me again.”

“I didn’t curse you.” She managed to keep her voice quiet.

“A spell then? Is that the proper term for witches?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” she gripped the wheel hard enough to make her hands ache. “If I were a witch with all this power then you’re the dumbest person alive for trying to bait me. Especially when I’ve already got five vampires in my trunk. Another one won’t weigh down my conscious.”

His smug expression almost tipped her temper over the edge when he said, “I won’t stop you from trying.”

Sonya kept her surface calm by running a list of Russian curses through her head while she mentally beat him to a pulp. If she thought being alone for three weeks with nothing to do was hard, she would’ve lived that way for a year if it meant not having to drive with Michael. Ever since he’d talked with the Seer, his ego had seemed to triple in size.

Focusing on beating Keme in the bet had helped. But with the roads in such bad condition, it’d taken longer than she’d anticipated to drive back. New Year’s Eve and she only had a few hours to midnight.

When Michael started in on her again, she pressed down on the gas.

By the time she pulled into the garage, she nearly fell out of the car in her rush to escape the vampire. She wheeled over a cart, several tarps and some of the thicker rope.

Less than one hour left.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“My job.” She tried her best to ignore him. “You can just stand there if you like. Wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty.” She muttered the last bit under her breath.

“I heard that,” he said.

“Good.”

She grumbled, moving what remained of Claire’s coven onto the tarp, tying them up tight. She inspected the inside of the trunk, peeling out the stained towels.

“You need to burn those.”

Sonya’s eye twitched. “Wow, really? And here I was thinking about using them to wash my dishes, mix the vampire blood with the water supply.” She put on a mock face of concern, touching his arm. “Do you think that’d be a bad idea?”

Michael shook her off. “I was only trying to be helpful.”

“No. Helpful would have been moving the bodies. You just wanted to act superior.”

“Trust me, compared to you, there is no acting required.”

Sonya clenched her jaw, marching over to the incinerator in the corner to toss the towels inside, their connection straining to its limit—she had no energy left to keep it loose. She heard Michael chuckling as he took out his luggage. Of course, he insisted on doing it right then. Wasn’t like she was in a hurry.

She wrenched out her duffle and slung it over her shoulder. Even in her anger, she shut the car door with a gentle push, still upset over how much abuse her car had endured during the trip.

Shoving the cart, she started hauling up her captures, Michael strolling behind her. She’d barely crossed the threshold into the main part of the house when she felt a tug in her chest. She rolled her eyes and tried to forge forward. She heard a grunt and Michael’s trunk thumping down onto the floor.

“Stop,” his strangled voice pleaded.

Sonya sighed and turned on her heels. Michael stood in the long hallway connecting the house and garage, tense as a compressed spring. She stepped closer and he relaxed, breathing deeply.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I can’t,” he panted, “I can’t cross over.” He kicked out but his foot stopped short as though he’d hit a wall.

Sonya frowned. She’d brought in the Siren alive and had seen other Hunters bring in their captures into the house without incident. She glanced at the cart, wondering if there was more to it than mere metal.

“You need to invite me in,” Michael said.

Sonya stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. Garlic, mirrors, holy water, stakes through the heart, none of that was true but he couldn’t manage to walk into a house on his own?

“It isn’t funny.” He muttered about there being a hex or enchantment blocking his path.

“You’re right,” she said, “it’s hilarious.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling a sudden rush of power. No matter what she did or said, he couldn’t get to her unless she let him. She paused for a moment before moving away from him.

“What are you doing?”

Their link strained and she stopped, relaxing. “Just enjoying the idea of you not being able lunge for my neck.” She checked down each side of the hall. Not that she needed to—this part of the house echoed so badly that a single step sounded like a marching army.

He threw up his hands and turned to walk away but only took half a step before jerking back towards her. She moved further away from the threshold and he slid across the cement.

“Stop it.” He spun back around, his face betraying his discomfort between the two conflicting forces pressing him in place.

“I think it’s time that we establish some rules about what’s going to happen, Michael. One—I don’t think you’ll bite anyone here but that should be a rule anyway. Two—no trying to kill me in my sleep. You don’t go for me and I won’t go for you. Three—”

“And what of my conditions?” Michael snapped. “I didn’t exactly choose this style of life.”

“Three,” she continued, “You are never going to call me a witch again. In exchange, I’ll refer to you however you like.

He scoffed and she leaned back, making him grunt.

“I’m not finished,” Sonya said. “I am going to find a way out of this. All you need to do is try and act human for a while. I’ll take any jobs that I can so we won’t have to stay here long.” She eased up and walked about halfway to the connecting hall. “Now you can list your conditions.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair. “You are not to interfere with any of my attempts to release myself from this ridiculous arrangement. I will act the part of a Hunter while I’m here but in exchange, if I need to leave this place, you will not force me to remain. And don’t flatter yourself—biting you again would only upset my stomach.”

“Where would you need to go?”

“I won’t know until I need to go there.” He held out his hand. “Are we agreed?”

She took the offer and welcomed him over. Michael hesitated with his foot midair before stepping onto the wood floor, letting out a deep breath.

He recollected his luggage, trailing behind her as Sonya turned towards the elevator. A large pair of arms grabbed her for a tight hug.

“I—I missed you too, Thatcher,” she wheezed out. His grip wasn’t allowing much oxygen to get to her lungs.

He laughed, spun her around once, and plopped her back down. “You’ve been away for over a month.” He punched her arm. “Thought you’d gone and quit on me.”

“We both know you’d never let me get away with that.” Thatcher chuckled, peering over her shoulder. “Who’s the stiff?”

“Michael,” Sonya answered. “A new recruit. He’ll be starting tomorrow.”

Thatcher’s eyes narrowed at him and Sonya’s nerves spiked. She didn’t think anyone would be able to tell the truth about Michael. He looked human, acted human—a stuck up ninny, yes, but still human.

Thatcher gave a shrug and his attention diverted to her cart. “Core said you were going after something big.”

“That’s right,” she said. “That’s where I ran into this guy.” She gestured over her shoulder. “He was almost made into a meal.”

“You helped her?” Thatcher asked.

“Only marginally,” Michael said. He moved closer to Sonya and raised his luggage to block more of his body. It felt good to see him so nervous.

Thatcher’s eyes narrowed again and his lip curled a bit in distaste. She’d have to do something special for Thatcher after this.

“Glad you could make it in time,” Thatcher told her. “People were beginning to doubt you’d show up at all.”

“I had to make a dramatic entrance at the list minute or not at all.” She smiled up at him and asked, “Is Keme still doing well?”

“A little too well.” Thatcher started walking towards the freight elevator and Michael lugged behind, double and triple locking his luggage before letting it leave his sight along with Sonya’s duffle. “I think his mentors have been calling in every favor they have to get extra jobs. Not that everyone doesn’t do that sometimes.”

“And the current standing?”

Thatcher opened the screen doors when the elevator dinged into place. He said nothing.

“Thatcher?”

“He’s ahead. By quite a lot.” He looked down at the tarp as Sonya pushed it inside. “I hope whatever took you a month to get was worth it.”

“Me too.” Sonya sighed, looking over at Michael. If he was confused, it didn’t show: his face was a cross between boredom and annoyance.

Everyone, even Kelvin and Damian, was gathered in the main room where the scoreboard was kept. Thatcher wasn’t kidding. Keme had gone from the bottom to somewhere in the lower middle while Isaac had dropped slightly from his second place spot under Thatcher—a system of group jobs. They took the same amount of time but were only worth a portion of the points. Her own name was tied with Nick’s in the bottom ten.

“Sonya!” Core popped out between Lawrence and Mark, soaring across the floor.

Sonya grinned, leaning down to hug the woman. It felt like a homecoming, even with Michael hovering over her shoulder. She missed these people—far more than she’d expected.

Mark and Evelyn came up next though neither of them touched her.

“Are you all right?” Mark asked.

Sonya flushed, hoping that no one would tell Michael about her record of getting injured. “I got my head slammed up a bit, but otherwise, nothing special happened.” Her hand touched her left arm briefly. Like the bite mark on her neck, there was barely any scarring. Not that scars were looked out of place on her.

Michael snickered. She kicked her heel back into his shin.

Evelyn went over to his side, getting up close as she had on Sonya’s first day. “And this stoic gentleman is?”

“Michael Harcourt.” He took her hand, his face alive with a disarming smile as he kissed the back of her hand. “Miss Fletcher here was kind enough to rescue me.”

Sonya huffed. She heard the mocking tone of his voice even if the others didn’t.

“Another recruit.” Evelyn’s face grew predatory. “I always love getting fresh meat. I hope you’re good with knives, Michael.”

“The best.” He winked and Sonya gagged.

When West came over, she couldn’t help but smile. A doctor to the last, he insisted on checking her head. “You did a good job bandaging it.”

“Thanks,” she said, glad he wasn’t insisting on a full inspection. She hadn’t come up with an excuse for the large bruises around her elbows where she’d had her blood drawn for the transfusion.

“It’s too bad you weren’t here last week,” West said. “Nick made enough food to feed a legion.”

“Let me guess,” she said, “Thatcher ate whatever was left behind.”

It was small talk, but it felt so good to be around people who actually liked her. Being around West was like basking in the sun while skipping through a field of spring flowers. When he hugged her to wish her a belated Merry Christmas, he smelled like rain on freshly cut grass.

Sonya sighed when he let go, wishing that there was some mistletoe hanging around. But before she could track any down, Core and Thatcher pulled her into the center of the room. Looking around, most of the discreet glances told her that none of the others had expected her return.

“So the prodigal daughter has arrived.” Isaac sauntered up and Sonya’s good mood deflated. He and Michael, they had the same condescending air in the way they talked to her. Isaac nudged the blue tarp. “Unless you managed to bag another Tracker, your fate was sealed when you decided to take a little vacation.” He reached to undo the ropes but Sonya slapped his hand away.

“Zoe is the one who judges what a monster is worth. Not you.”

“It’s fine, Isaac.” Keme came up, broader and more confident than he had been the last time she saw him. There was a healing gash across his left cheek. “Can’t you see that she’s just scared about admitting defeat.”

“It’s so good to see you too, Keme.” She shoved her way past, feeling the hated tug on the back of her spine telling her she and Michael were getting too far apart. She looked back and glared at him as he chatted with Evelyn and a disapproving Thatcher. He caught her eye and nodded. A moment later, he was next to her, his typical scowl back in place.

“This wouldn’t be an issue if you just let us separate again.”

“It’s not as simple as it looks.” She brought the cart around to where Damian, Zoe, and Kelvin sat lounging over drinks.

When the pair of them got closer, Damian looked up and smiled. “I’m so glad you could make it, my dear.” He moved over on the couch but Sonya shook her head.

“Thanks, but I came here for Zoe.”

Zoe looked up at the sound of her name, her eyes glazed over with tequila.

“For me?” She hunched over and gestured with grabby hands towards the tarp. By now, most of the room had gather around them in a large circle, whispers spreading about what she’d brought in. It sounded like Core had spread rumors about Sonya’s “unbelievable” catch. She caught bets being adjusted, jokes being made about how she’d stayed away for so long because she got herself hurt on the job again.

Michael leaned in and whispered, “This isn’t quite what I expected.”

“Were you picturing one big happy family?”

“More or less.”

Zoe fumbled with the ropes until Evelyn came up, giving her a knife and helping guide her hands. With one swift snip, the whole thing came undone. The image was more striking than Sonya could’ve hoped. Claire lay curled up in the middle with her harem positioned all around her, their fangs bared. The best part was when one of the heads rolled off the cart and right up to Keme’s feet.

He screamed.

The entire room burst with conversation, accusations that she’d cheated, questions about how she’d done it, and general chaos. All eyes honed in on Michael.

He blinked, seeming confused at the attention. “I was there if you’re looking for a witness.”

Isaac muscled forward. “You did this, didn’t you?” He grabbed Michael by the collar.

“I can honestly say that I did not kill a single one of them. This was her plan, her knife. I merely acted the part of the bait.”

For the first time since meeting him, Sonya genuinely liked Michael. He stood up to the questioning, playing the role of a helpless victim who’d been saved.

“Enough,” Damian yelled over the shouts. “Enough!”

Zoe, who seemed to have blanked out during the whole exchange, was still looking over the bodies.

“How do we know that they’re really all hers?” Keme asked, his cheeks red from some of the others snickering at his earlier shrieks. “She might’ve just found them.”

Damian got to his feet and most of the Hunters in the room backed away.

Keme was either too angry or too embarrassed to be smart. “There’s no proof.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Damian approached him at a slow pace. “Do you think I’m blind to what goes on under my own roof? I know that your mentors have been—how shall I put it—bolstering your numbers. Admittedly, it’s well within the rules to put their own pride ahead of your education, but the principle still stands. You would condemn her, without evidence, for something you do, for something everyone here does? The system is built on the hope and belief that my Hunters are honest with me.”

Keme opened his mouth but Damian cut him off. “Furthermore, you would dare to give me an order?”

“No.” Keme shook his head, trying to retreat into the group.

“Stay put.”

He froze.

Damian placed a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Have you come to a verdict, my dear?”

She downed the rest of her martini glass and grinned. “Mm hmm!” Her knees wobbled as she stood. “Six points each.” She waved her hand like she was setting off a car race.

Thirty marks in her favor. She counted through the tallies as Core departed to officially enter it into the computer. Phones were pulled and people counted on their fingers but she already knew.

She’d won.

Damian chuckled and money exchanged hands as bets were collected. Keme left the room when Isaac turned on him. Sonya beamed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy, so triumphant. West, her mentors, Core, Damian, Zoe and a handful of others cheered on as Thatcher ruffled her hair and threw her up into the air like a beach ball. She giggled, the room spinning when he finally set her down. She caught a glimpse of Michael in the madness, looking exceptionally uncomfortable.

“Come on, sourpuss. It’s almost the New Year.”

“Ah, yes. Another year of my life has withered away. Hip hip hooray.”

Maybe she’d hallucinated his congeniality with Core and Evelyn earlier. Letting him sulk, she accepted the handshakes and hugs of the Hunters who’d either supported her or won money off her in the bet. They peeled away slowly, separating to drink and party and get ready for the midnight countdown in a few minutes.

“Congratulations, my dear.” Damian came over when the others had left. He held out his hand, smiling warmly. “You definitely earned your victory. And you,” he put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “You are welcome to join us here, but you have the look of someone who’s been forced against their will. Any Hunter of mine is free to walk away at any time.”

Michael shook his head, his back straightening as though to stand at attention. “The past month held certain surprises,” he glanced at Sonya. “And perhaps, one day, I’ll take you up on your offer. But not yet.”

“Very well.” Damian did a little half turn but then stopped and reached inside his coat pocket. “I’m afraid I didn’t plan for you to bring so much in tonight, Sonya. I’ll make you a check for the rest later.” He offered a slip of paper.

Check?

She took it and her eyes bulged. Her head whipped up to the scoreboard and back down to the ridiculously large number in her hand. She hadn’t really bothered to think it through or even ask about it before now. The tally marks weren’t just for keeping score. Each mark represented thousands of dollars. “I—um, thank you.”

Sonya nodded, glancing toward Michael. She savored the panicked look in his widening eyes. His head shook a touch. He was finally in her territory. Finally understanding the constant paranoia she’d felt in trusting him the past few weeks. She turned back to Damian, “There is something that I feel like I need to ask. I didn’t ever think I’d have to say something like this.”

“What is it, my dear?”

She looked him straight in the eye and asked, “How do I file this in my taxes?”

He blinked a few times before breaking into what she could only describe as giggles. His shoulders shook and hunched over and he covered his mouth with his left hand. It took a few moments before he managed to catch his breath—though she suspected it was because of the wine on his breath more than what she’d said—before telling her Core had it all arranged with a member of the network.

He wiped the corners of his eyes, still chuckling as he toddled off with his arm around Zoe’s waist, the two of them already swaying.

“You’re not going to join them?”

Sonya shook her head, stepping closer to Michael. “Alcohol and I don’t mix very well. Do you want any?”

“Not tonight,” he said bluntly before striding towards the elevator. Sonya sighed, tugged along behind him. She gave one last mournful look at West.

“You didn’t turn me in,” Michael said once they were alone upstairs.

“I said I wouldn’t.” Sonya was too tired for another round of verbal sparring, too tired to extend their connection tonight. If they didn’t come to a temporary truce, she would go insane.

Michael checked something in his coat before pulling it tighter around him. “Thank you.”

She stopped. Was it possible to actually die from shock? He gave her a look that said if she gloated over this, he would make her suffer. She cleared her throat. “As long as you don’t hurt anyone—well, anyone I like. You’re welcome to go after Isaac and his group.” He chuckled at that. “But as long as you don’t act on your blood-sucking urges, I will do everything I can to protect you and get you out of here in one piece.” She held back on any threats. Being around a room packed full of Hunters was warning enough.

“Where am I to sleep?” Michael heaved his luggage and Sonya lead him towards the regular elevator to the upstairs.

“Once everyone’s gotten over their hangovers tomorrow, you’ll probably get your own room. But for now, you’re staying with me. Don’t make that face.” She whacked him in the arm when he looked sick. “It’s really draining to separate us, I’ve barely slept the past few days, and I think after everything that has happened with you, I deserve a break.”

“I won’t contend that, but what am I supposed to do all night? Watch you drool into a pillow as you snore?”

“I do not snore.”

“How peculiar. The noises I heard must’ve been something feral that broke into my home.”

“Nothing on this planet would ever be desperate enough to break in to your house.” She dragged her feet along, fighting just to keep her eyes open

“If you fall,” he said, “I’m not going to catch you.”

“Didn’t think you would.” The last word widened into a yawn. She kicked her door open, dropping her bag and flopping onto the bed.

Michael walked to the edges of the room before settling in her desk chair. He read through her textbook titles, picking several of them up.

“You study these?” He asked.

Sonya rubbed her eyes, rolling over to look at him. “I was going to. Haven’t even opened any of them yet.” She was already starting to lose track of the names and charts she’d learned in chemistry and biology.

“A pity.” He picked up the one labeled World History, running his hand along the front cover. He didn’t open it.

“What’s wrong?”

“For the past ninety years,” his voice grew heavy, “I’ve been living in the world but unable to learn anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

Claire. It made sense. Keeping him in the dark about the world would limit her power. Sonya smirked, wondering what would happen to him once he discovered Wikipedia. “As far as I’m concerned, those are yours.”

He muttered what she guessed to be a “thank you” before burrowing himself into the past.

At least he’d have something to do for entertainment. She checked her phone. Almost midnight. She ambled into the bathroom for a touch of privacy, calling up Home. It’d be closer to two in the morning there, but there was still a chance Arthur or Bethany might be up.

It rang to the answering machine.

“I guess you’re all asleep or out partying,” She puffed out her cheeks, struggling on what to say. “Uh, I hope you’re all doing well. I really am sorry that I wasn’t able to make it on Christmas, or after Christmas; finals were coming up and I needed to study. Things are going really well here. I’ve actually made some friends, people who like me, people who I trust—no laughing at that, Arthur.”

She smiled a bit, wishing she could’ve seen them. “Maybe I’ll be able to come by during Spring break or something. I just… I wanted to say that I’m happy here, and I hope you’re all happy too. Happy New Year.” She hung up and hit herself in the head. Happy. Happy. Happy. She sounded like a Prozac salesman.

She watched the clock, counting off the seconds. Four… Three… Two… One.

Thatcher rolled his eyes at their nonsense, pulling out a thin strip of red paper from his pocket. He dropped it on top of the candlelight and it flared up, consumed in an instant.

The chatter and yelling and laugher halted as everyone came to a sudden stop. Even the speakers Core had set up to blare out music glitched before the sound died.

“I was in the middle of enjoying myself.”

Thatcher turned around, his head bowed in reverence. “I’m sorry, master.” He walked to the middle of the room where Damian was tapping his fingers in a highly annoyed manner. Beside him, Zoe sat with her lips puckered, a bit of red smudged over her chin. Damian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What did you feel was so urgent?”

“The man she brought with her,” Thatcher said, “I was wondering if he was Jax’s replacement.”

“No.” Damian got to his feet, settling his cane over his shoulder as he took to pacing the room between the frozen bodies. As he walked, his form and voice changed. “Even I don’t have extra Trackers under my command,” said an old black woman with silver hair and a grating voice. A teenage boy whose neck was covered in a large spider tattoo continued, “There is something peculiar about how he interacted with her, but I doubt the vampire will interfere with my plan.” He shifted to look like Sonya for a moment before settling into his typical persona. “Is this all you had on your mind?”

“I’m worried about the attachments she’s formed among the other Hunters. Only a few would stand against her as she is.”

“Let them be. You, of all people, should know: the more bonds she forms—the closer she is to them—the easier it’ll be to manipulate her later on. I might even start encouraging West to take her on a date; romantic attachments are always the easiest to exploit. Anything else?”

Thatcher cleared his throat, concerned he was questioning too much.

“Have out with it.”

“The day she healed her leg. You said using the book would kill her.”

Damian grinned and, for a split second, Thatcher could see the true face of his master with all its depraved grandeur. “It did.”

Thatcher frowned. “It…did?”

Damian sighed, the patience draining from his face. “The power I need does not actually come from Sonya but from her better half. I’d hoped her death would destroy the seal but my brother made it stronger than I’d anticipated.” He absently scratched at the stubble around his jaw. “Perhaps, it’s for the best. At least I know now that my precious niece can actually access the abilities and survive—well, perhaps survive isn’t the correct term for it.” He snickered, his face twisting with his grin.