The hours seemed to drag by. Layla had felt so comfortable talking to Hunter earlier, but with Damaris there, conversation had become strained. Even though it was clear at this point that Hunter wasn’t lying, Damaris still didn’t seem to trust him. Finally, Sophie started stirring.

Damaris went to her side with food and water, which Sophie wolfed down before she turned to Hunter.

“Come upstairs,” Sophie said. “We’ll talk.”

The bubble around Hunter disappeared, and the two of them disappeared up to one of the rooms on the second floor. In another moment, Lizeth came to with a gasp. Damaris was in front of her in an instant, holding her shoulders as Layla observed.

“Focus,” she said steadily. “What did you see?”

“I saw demons. Hunter is telling the truth. I saw them saving us. Saving you. You would have died if not for them...”

If someone had said that to Layla, she would have been completely freaked out, but Damaris seemed to take it in stride.

“Well, that’s good to know. Rose is upstairs; she could probably use some company.”

Lizeth nodded and hurried off, and Damaris finally turned to Layla. “Come. Let’s have some tea, and I’ll explain.”

No words had ever been more welcome. Layla managed to hold back her questions while Damaris made tea; her earlier exhaustion was forgotten—she just wanted to understand more of what was happening. The two of them sat down at the table, and Layla asked for what she hoped would be the last time, “What’s going on?”

Damaris took a minute to gather her thoughts before answering. “There’s a lot you don’t know, so just ask me if I don’t explain something properly, okay? We’ve never had someone like you, who grew up without knowing anything about the magical world.

“Firstly, Hunter is a demon.”

Layla shook her head, suddenly wondering why she was trusting Damaris instead of Hunter; she’d heard them say that word before, ‘demon’…but she wouldn’t believe it; she couldn’t, thinking of how she’d felt spending the morning with him.

“Not a demon in the way you’re thinking,” Damaris said hastily. “Not in the way religions portray demons. They’re people, just like us, but with a different heritage. That being said, demons aren’t generally people you want to be associating with. Mostly, they stay in their gangs in the underworld. A lot of them are thugs for hire. No one likes them very much or trusts them.

“I’m not surprised his group is having trouble, given what he said. No one wants demons out of the underworld for any extended period of time. Almost anyone who finds them—vampires, fairies, witches, you name it—will do everything they can to chase them back. He’s not wrong about needing protection if he wants to stay here.

“He’s also not wrong about the rest,” Damaris continued before Layla could say anything in response. “For the last year, witches have been dying in the southeast. Not just dying, either,” she added, her eyes gazing off in the distance. And somehow, Layla didn’t want to know what the strange comment meant—at least, not now.

“We haven’t been able to catch whoever’s doing it or figure out how they’re doing it. It’s not easy to kill a witch, let alone almost a dozen of them. It’s even harder to hide the trail so that our magic can’t find it. We’re all really worried. We don’t know who’s going to be next.”

Layla suddenly understood Sophie’s insistence that she didn’t leave the house—it hadn’t been related to Layla personally, but to her being a witch. She glanced around nervously, taking in the bolted doors and tightly shut windows; they seemed more meaningful now.

“It’s okay, Layla, we’re safe here,” Damaris reassured her. “One of the first things we did when all this started was put heavy protection around our houses. No one is getting in here uninvited. That means you must never invite anyone in unless you are one hundred percent sure you can trust them. We should have told you that before we left.”

Layla shifted guiltily. She was just lucky that her letting Hunter in hadn’t ended in disaster. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought Hunter was a friend of Sophie’s.”

The other woman waved off her apology practically before she’d finished speaking. “That’s all right,” Damaris responded. “There’s a lot to learn, and we don’t expect you to know it all at once. Just be careful in the future. Instead, call Sophie or me before letting anyone in or just wait. You’re not experienced enough yet to sense if someone is changing their appearance with magic.”

That’s chilling. Layla tried not to dwell on the comment as Damaris took a sip of tea and then continued.

“Whatever else can be said of demons, they’re strong. I think their protection will be a relief for most of us. They can handle pretty much anything.”

“That call Sophie got earlier. Was that…was that about another killing?”

“Yes.” Damaris sighed heavily. “Another witch was killed, this time in St. Petersburg. Under the same circumstances as the others. Her throat was slit, no evidence left behind. No fingerprints, threads of clothing, footprints…nothing. The police don’t know what to make of it. That’s not unusual for magical crimes, but the fact that even we haven’t been able to figure out who’s doing this, let alone stop them, is disturbing.”

Layla was getting more alarmed by the second. Not only was she a witch, but it turned out someone so powerful that no one had yet been able to find them, even with magic, was hunting her kind.

“We have to do something, though, right? We can’t just let them pick us off one by one.”

Damaris smiled. “Now you’re thinking like a witch. You’re right. We’re still trying to find out who they are and how to stop them, but in the meantime, we need to make sure we’re as safe as possible. After putting extra warding on our houses, we started setting wards in nearby areas. We were out checking on them when we sensed you.”

“How do wards work?” Layla asked, wrapping her hands around her mug of tea; Damaris had been right in expecting it to have a calming effect, but it still wasn’t quite enough to offset all she was learning.

“Well, the most powerful ones are shields. Those stop people or magic from passing through. Those take a lot of energy, though, and we can’t afford to have that type all over the city. We’ve saved the most powerful ones for our homes. The types we’re putting around elsewhere are called bells. They don’t stop anyone from passing, but when a magical being goes through one, it sends a message to the witch who cast it.

“A lot of our time is spent chasing down totally harmless individuals who just happen to pass through them, but we have to investigate everyone, just in case. Most of the rest of the community is cooperating. No one likes the thought of a killer strong enough to kill multiple witches running loose.”

Layla sat back, thinking. She still had questions, but her mind was spinning with the information she’d already been given.

Thinking over the last few hours, she decided her most immediate questions had more to do with the here and now. “Is Sophie always so…intense?” she asked. “With Hunter, it looked like she could have melted him into a puddle right there.”

Damaris pursed her lips and seemed to examine Layla more closely, but finally answered when Layla made a point of sipping her tea—probably too casually.

“Sophie’s usually more level-headed, but these recent killings have her a bit more emotional than usual. Her mother’s one of the witches who’s been killed. That’s when Sophie became high priestess of our coven. This killing is the closest one to where her mother was killed, nearly a year ago.”

Layla glanced to the staircase instinctively, thinking about the other woman’s earlier comments. “That’s terrible. They were close?”

“Very. It hit Sophie hard. She’s thrown herself into her duties for the coven since then, living up to her mother’s every expectation.” Damaris stopped speaking and took another sip of her tea, examining Layla as if she expected more questions, but Layla felt too overwhelmed to ask further questions about serial killings and what her own future might look like.

“What are you thinking?” the other woman asked finally.

Layla fiddled with her teacup, wondering how to ask her next question. It seemed clear that none of the witches liked Hunter very much, but before Hunter left, she couldn’t help wondering about whether she’d see him again after he left. Or be allowed to see him, for that matter, without endangering her ability to fit in here. Maybe if she asked more generally…

“Do…what’s the dating scene like—in the supernatural world, I mean? I mean, do you guys mingle with other humans, or other supernaturals?”

Damaris smiled, and some of the tension from the earlier seriousness seemed to evaporate, so that Layla was glad she’d changed the subject.

“Most supernatural beings date within their own race, though it’s not uncommon for some of them to end up with humans. Witches mostly date humans, but those relationships often aren’t serious. It’s difficult to be with someone who lives in such a different world than you do.”

Layla debated asking if witches were ever with demons, but she thought she knew the answer to that already. Still, she thought about Hunter’s piercing gaze, and how it had felt like he could look right into her soul. It probably wasn’t a good idea even to be thinking like this, though, given what she knew now. She barely knew Hunter…she just couldn’t help thinking that she’d like to get to know him better.

Damaris seemed to sense her line of thought, though. “That’s one thing I don’t get about demons,” Damaris mused, staring off into space. “Why would they even come here? No one bothers them in the underworld, and they know very well how difficult it is up here for their kind. Why go through all this?”

“I don’t know,” Layla said honestly. It wasn’t as if she’d be one to answer any question related to demons—she’d thought they were the stuff of horror stories and religious sermons till not long ago. “Maybe for adventure?”

“Maybe. It would be typical of demons, but I get the feeling it’s something more with this group.”

Layla didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, she asked another general question—anything to avoid giving Damaris a clue of how much she wanted to spend more time with Hunter. “What’s it like, being immortal?”

“It’s hard and wonderful. I guess it depends on the person. The more human family and friends you have, the harder it is. For most of us, all our friends are other immortals, so that makes it easier. Unlike humans, we’re not under the constant pressure to do everything we want to accomplish on this earth before we die. We have as much time as we could want.”

“Except if you’re killed.”

“That doesn’t happen often,” Damaris said quickly. “That’s why these witch killings have everyone so upset, because it’s unheard of. Don’t worry—it looks like the demons will take care of it. They may be brutes, but once they give their word for a job, they keep it.”

They sat in silence for a while as Layla sorted through her thoughts. Now that some of the shock was starting to wear off, she’d begun to think about what it meant to be a witch.

“Why aren’t you doing more? Why aren’t all witches?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why aren’t you off curing cancer or world hunger? Bringing about world peace? If you’ve got magic, doesn’t that mean you should use it for the good of humanity? And be able to accomplish just about anything?”

Damaris laughed outright, but seemed to cut off her own amusement when she realized Layla was serious, which Layla appreciated—she hadn’t been joking, after all.

“Just because we can use magic doesn’t mean we can do anything. Magic, just like anything else, has limits. For example, if my magic were at full strength, I could turn this tea to water. That doesn’t mean I could cure a drought. Doing such a thing with magic would probably be harder than having humans manually desalinate the whole ocean.

“And yes, magic can heal, but it has limited use with diseases. Mostly, it works best with physical wounds. For serious diseases like cancer, magic can ease some of the symptoms, but as far as a cure is concerned…we’re no closer than human scientists are.

“Also, remember that magic can’t affect free will—that’s important, Layla. People will fight each other no matter what. Casting wards between warring individuals or people wouldn’t solve the problem, but only pause it temporarily.

“That being said…there are witches who devote their lives to the issues you’re talking about. The problem is, we need to be very careful. We may know a lot about magic, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we have the necessary knowledge about medicine, chemistry, biology, or human behavior to create solutions to such complex problems. And it’s not as if you can start a career and just keep going easily—witches are immortal, but since most people don’t know we exist, even that has to be treated carefully.

“The best thing would be to create a partnership between humans and immortals, focused on pooling skills to solve problems. Unfortunately, that’s not possible. Immortals went dark and chose to hide our presence from humans generations ago and for good reason.

“Imagine if you trusted the wrong person, and they told the world what we are. Half of the world would want to kill us or lock us up for the danger we represent, having powers that they don’t. The other half would want to study and dissect us to discover our secrets. Even if someone was prepared to go through that themselves, they’d have no right to bring the same fate to immortals everywhere.”

Layla nodded, slowly. It all did make sense. After all, here she was, worrying about going to college, not solving world hunger. Maybe she should be more worried about that kind of thing, now that she was immortal, but she figured she could be forgiven for putting aside such moral questions for the moment.

“Can I still go to college?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

Damaris looked surprised for the first time. “I suppose so, if you want to. Of course, you’ll need to learn to control your magic before you go much of anywhere. You’re not exactly safe in unwarded places at the moment.”

Layla conceded the point with a smile.

“If you want to pursue more human learning, you can…still, I should tell you that learning about your powers as a witch is a lifelong path. There are some things that even I don’t know, and I’m one of the oldest witches around. But if you’re prepared to juggle your time, there’s no reason that you can’t study.”

Layla had been watching the other woman closely, though, and saw the hesitation surrounding everything she’d just said. Damaris wasn’t saying it, but Layla got the feeling that, while it was allowed and technically possible, once she got drawn into the supernatural world, a normal human life would be more of an impossible dream for Layla than anything else.

The realization of how everything had changed left Layla feeling like she should have been taking notes through their entire discussion. Everything she’d learned in her life suddenly seemed incredibly insufficient in the wake of this whole new world that she’d known nothing about.

“I know it’s overwhelming,” Damaris said kindly. “You’ll get there. It just takes time. Why don’t you have a think about what you’ve learned so far? You must be tired. Come on—I’ll show you to your bedroom.”

Layla got the backpack of her most essential stuff out of the car and followed Damaris upstairs. The bedroom was nice, medium-sized with tall cupboards and a four-poster bed. Damaris left her alone after assuring Layla she should let them know if there was anything she needed.

Layla resisted the temptation to sneak through the halls and try to listen to Sophie and Hunter’s conversation. Damaris seemed confident that, now they knew Hunter was telling the truth, Sophie would accept his help, but they’d been locked away in the study for a while now. Instead, she lay down on the bed, thinking she ought to at least attempt a nap.

She hoped everything was going okay. At least the lightning bolt Damaris had held earlier was long gone. She wondered how long it would be until she herself could cast that particular spell. It would certainly have come in handy with those men. She’d never have to be afraid again if she got to that point…well, except when it came to supernatural witch hunters.

She pulled out the sketch she’d been doing of Hunter; it was so unfinished. She wasn’t sure how Sophie would feel about Hunter posing for her, though.

She soon found herself doodling on a spare page, drawing Hunter’s eyes. She tried to portray their intense gaze, but the paper and pencil somehow couldn’t capture it. Maybe she’d have better luck with paints.

Layla yawned and glanced at her watch. It was late afternoon now, but she was exhausted. She wondered if her mother was sober. Probably, but Layla didn’t feel the need to call her anymore. As much as she wanted information about witchcraft in the family, she didn’t want to talk to her mom.

Lying back on the soft bed she’d been given, she instead remembered the look of anger in Hunter’s eyes when she’d told him about how her mom treated her. Of course, part of her couldn’t help but think she deserved the treatment after years of motherly hate. The fact that she’d lost her job just reinforced her uselessness. But Hunter obviously didn’t think she was. The thought made her smile. The thought of him made her smile. She couldn’t wait to see him again, to try once more to capture his unique, piercing gaze on paper.

Despite her exhaustion, her mind was still spinning. She could feel those dark eyes on her. Chills swept through her body, her nerves tingling with excitement. No one had ever looked at her that way.

Hunter’s eyes had seared her.

Knowing sleep would be hopeless with her body thrumming, Layla grabbed her notebook and started writing. If she couldn’t get Hunter off her mind through sleep, she’d get him out on the paper.