This morning, Mrs. Finnygood didn’t break into my bedroom early, and I was able to stay in the warm, soft bed, enveloped in the thick comforter for a few more minutes, just being. Just thinking.

About Nathan.

Of all the crazy things going on in my life right now, my brain only wanted to think about Nathan.

He could say whatever he wanted, but I was sure he had almost kissed me in the ocean last evening—he was staring at my lips, leaning into me—because of my powers. I still couldn’t control them, and it had been hours since he had drunk the potion that helped him resist me. I doubted it had still been effective then. At least, it didn’t seem to be. Maybe he had a better resistance level to my charm because he was a hunter, but I knew it still affected him. Otherwise, why would he act the way he did? Why would he laugh with me, look at me so intently, caress my face, take my hand?

There was no other explanation.

I didn’t allow any other possibility to cross my mind. It was too farfetched to be true. Besides, I didn’t believe in fairy tales.

After the almost kiss by the ocean, Nathan drove us to the Willow Harbor Inn. He escorted me inside, saying he would grab something from the Dark Horse Diner so we could have dinner, but Mrs. Finnygood shooed him out. And instead of eating with Nathan, I had a homemade chicken soup with Mrs. Finnygood—she watched while I ate. It had been a delicious soup, but I felt bad for Mr. Finnygood, who was still avoiding me, and I missed Nathan.

Even though I shouldn’t miss him. He was better far away from me, where my powers couldn’t affect him.

Groaning, I kicked the sheets and went for a shower. After getting dressed in jeans, a thin sweater, boots and leather jacket, I went down the stairs to see if Mrs. Finnygood had any breakfast for me.

She wasn’t in the foyer or the sitting room. I poked my head through the back door and called to her. She didn’t answer.

So … what now?

An idea came to mind. I wasn’t sure when Nathan would show up—if he would—but I knew there would be a hunter outside.

I opened the front door and sure enough, the girl was leaning on her white Jeep, her eyes on the inn. She saw me at the door and came over to me.

“Hey,” she said, halting in front of the steps leading to the front door.

“Hi, um, you’re a hunter, right?”

“Yup.” She extended her slender arm to me. “I’m Amber Hart.”

I shook her hand. “Brooke Ellis.”

“I know.”

“Oh, yes, right.”

“Nathan should be here soon.”

“Oh, okay. It’s just … I’m starving and I can’t find Mrs. Finnygood. I was thinking about going to Urban Grind to get coffee and something to eat.”

Her thin eyebrows turned down. “You shouldn’t wander around alone.”

“I know, but … um, what if you went with me? You could keep an eye on anything that looks suspicious, be it a naga who is approaching me, or a man who could get under my spell.” I tried saying it as if it were funny, but in truth it sounded pathetic. “Or not.”

My shoulders deflated and I took a step back to go inside.

“Maybe …” Amber looked across the street, in the direction of Urban Grind. “Your idea doesn’t sound too bad. You should be safe with me, especially if you avoid staring at people, or men mostly.”

“Then you’ll go with me?”

She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Feeling a little too excited for coffee, I skipped down the stairs and stood beside Amber. She chuckled at me, before escorting me to Urban Grind. We made small talk on the way there. We talked about the weather, the beautiful green willow tree in the dead of winter, how Mobridge was probably still buried under the snow and how I didn’t miss it.

At Urban Grind, the line was quite long for a small town. There were at least seven people in front of us, and more arrived after. I tried keeping my head low and not looking anyone in the eyes, afraid of enchanting them by accident.

When it was our turn, we didn’t even have to open our mouth. Loran pulled out two to-go cups and started preparing our drinks. Apparently, he knew what Amber drank too. I guess he knew everybody’s orders.

“Thanks, Loran,” Amber said when he handed her our cups.

“You’re welcome,” he said with his usual smile.

I pulled out my wallet, but Amber placed her hand over it. “Put it on the manor’s tab, please.”

He winked. “Of course.”

I frowned at Amber. “I can pay for it.”

“I know, but I’m feeling generous,” she said, handing me my cup. “Consider it my treat.”

I didn’t like it and was about to complain when Amber looked over my shoulder and stiffened. Curious, I followed her gaze and found two older women staring at her from a table in the corner.

“Who are they?” I asked.

Instead of answering me, Amber caught my elbow and pulled me to the side, away from the crowd and around the counter. “Stay right here.” Then she went to talk to them.

I couldn’t make out their words, but it seemed like one hissed word after another, like the three of them were arguing. Maybe it was something involving hunters and their cases.

With nothing better to do, I glanced around the busy coffee shop. A lot of people entered and left in a matter of minutes, carrying at least one steaming cup of coffee.

Sighing, I slipped my hand inside my jacket pocket.

My blood turned to ice.

Slowly, I pulled out a folded beige paper.

Just like my father’s letter.

My hands shook as I unfolded the paper and read it.

---

You’re in danger. Leave town now.

---

My eyes widened, my hands trembled harder, and I almost dropped my coffee. I glanced around, searching for whoever had slipped this note inside my pocket. Because it had to have been here. Now. A moment ago.

But there was no man in his late forties or early fifties—that was how old I imagined my father would be—inside Urban Grind, at least not that I could see.

My breath grew shallow and I raced outside. I stopped at the sidewalk and surveyed all sides. A few people walked around the square and down the sidewalk and crossed the streets, but none of them looked suspicious, as if they needed to get away fast.

Perhaps it hadn’t been my father. Perhaps it had been whoever had sent me the first letter. Whoever had lured me back to Willow Harbor.

But why? Why bring me here and now tell me to leave?

It didn’t make sense.

Amber popped in front of me, the gleam in her eyes urgent, serious. “Why did you run like that? What happened?” I had no voice, no words, so I lifted my quavering hand and showed her the note.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit.” Glancing side to side, Amber pulled out her phone from her pocket and pressed one button. “Hey, it’s me. Are you coming?” She paused. “Then be faster. Something happened.” She put her phone back in her pocket, and hooked her arm with mine. “Come on. We need to get away from here.” Feeling numb and dazed, I let Amber pulled me toward the inn. “Just keep moving,” Amber said, her voice low as she dashed with me down the street.

At the first corner, a man stepped out from the bookstore. He stared at me, his eyes wide and suddenly glazed over.

“Oh my.” He stepped in our path, his eyes glued on me. “You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching for me. “You’re perfect.”

Whimpering, I stepped back.

“Shit,” Amber cursed. She tugged me back and around the man, and holding my hand, she pulled me into a run.

“Come back!” the man yelled, following us.

No, no, not again.

And this time, I wasn’t that close to the water, and I wasn’t singing. I hadn’t even seen him until he jumped in front of us.

We ran past Mrs. Ackermann, who was watching the scene, her eyes narrowed. Speculating. Disapproving.

A few seconds later, the man ran past her too.

“Faster,” Amber said, speeding up.

I had never been a good runner, and in my precarious emotional state, I wasn’t really sure how I was moving at all.

Amber pulled me into the front yard of a house. We ran down the side of the house, turned into the backyard, used a side gate to go to the other house behind it, and ended up in an alley between two other houses. When we emerged on the sidewalk, the inn was right in front of us.

We raced across the street and into the inn.

Mrs. Finnygood looked up from her place behind the desk and narrowed her eyes at us. “Now, what’s that ruckus about?”