Chapter One
One Month After the Spell
The kitchen smells delicious, like cinnamon, and when I peek inside Sue is standing over a massive bowl of peeled apples. Thin dough is rolled out on the table and there are four pie pans floured and ready. Quietly, I slip into the room and dip my finger along the gooey edge of the bowl. I’ve just tasted the most heavenly, sugary-sweet concoction when she turns and catches me.
“Shoo! That’s for dessert!”
“It smells so good.” I reach out my finger and this time, she swats it.
“It’s hard enough keeping those men fed. I don’t need to have to monitor you, too.”
“It’s not our fault you’re an amazing cook.”
She wipes her hands on her apron and says, “You had a visitor while you were out.”
I frown. “Who?”
“Someone from your advisor’s office.”
I sigh and sit down at the table. “Again?”
Between Xavier’s death, Anita’s weird threats, and everything going on in the house I’d had a hard time focusing on writing my book. The book that got me acceptance into the NYU graduate writing program. When I’d arrived in the city that book was all I could think about. It haunted my dreams. I thought about it all day—every day. But then I learned about my fate—my destiny—and the book seemed less and less important.
And now?
I haven’t written a word in weeks.
What have I been doing? Honing my fighting skills, tracking down ingredients for a dark and powerful spell, choosing which of the Guardians would be my mate (spoiler alert: I didn’t choose. For now, it’s all five) and expelling the Morrigan from my soul. Things have been a little busy.
I thrum my fingers on the table.
“You better keep up with your work, Morgan, or they’ll kick you out.”
“I know, I know.”
“I’ve seen it happen before. All you students think you’re special, but trust me, there’s another to replace you in a heartbeat.”
Of course I am special. Aren’t I? I carry the Morrigan, The Goddess of War, in my heart and soul. Well I did, until recently. That’s just another one of the distractions lately, losing the familiar power I’d become accustomed to. I consider what Sue is saying. Maybe I’m not special anymore. Maybe I’m just a woman who needs to focus on keeping her scholarship.
“Did they say anything in particular?”
“Left a package. Davis took it up to your room.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure to read it.” She gives me a stern look. I add, “Right away.”