“Are you sure?” he whispers.
“Yes.” I blink and see her face. She had the same green headband on and we had a minute-long conversation about how essential it is for every redhead to have green clothing and accessories. She even commented on how it matches my eyes, and that I’m one of the lucky ones with dark red hair and green eyes. I agreed, of course. “Do you think she—?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Ethan goes to leave the table.
“Wait.” I grab his wrist. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m just going to talk to her.” He pulls his wrist free from my grasp and leaves the table.
“What is going on?” Rene asks, watching Ethan go into the kitchen.
I take in a shaky breath. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” My jaw tenses and I have to remind myself to breathe. Eyes on the kitchen doors, I can tell Rene is watching me but I’m too freaked to care. Only a minute later, Ethan comes back.
“What did she say?” I rush out.
“Can’t tell you.” He looks around suspiciously and then sits back down. “She ran out the back and left. Told another server she doesn’t feel well. I got a name. Claire.”
“Right, I remember now.”
Rene grabs her purse again, not sure if she should pop up and run too. “What the hell is going on?”
Oh, fuck. “How far do you want to go?” I ask. “With all this…demons, magic…a possible curse?”
Rene pushes her shoulders back. “I want to go all in.”
Inhaling, I lean forward. “I’m gonna give you a crash course. So my great-aunt was a witch, and I am too, but she spelled my memories away and I just started remembering things—like totally random things—after she died and the binding spell started to weaken. This overdramatic demon who wanted revenge on my aunt but couldn’t get it since she died came after me. Which is how I met Ethan because he was tracking the demon. Blah-blah-blah, I killed the demons and moved here into the house that she left me in her will, by the way, and now I’m seeing and hearing things and I’m either insane or someone is fucking with me.”
Rene blinks. Once. Twice. “What?”
Ethan holds up his hand, keeping me from ranting like a crazy person again. “Do you feel comfortable coming back to our house?”
“Um, yeah. Can Keith come, though?”
“Do you trust him?” Ethan asks, and I know he’s wishing he could run a background check on him as well.
“We’ve been best friends since the third grade. I trust him with my life.”
“Holy shit.” Keith picks up his wineglass and shakes his head. We’re at my house, sitting in the library with a fire going next to us. “How can we help?”
I open my mouth only to snap it shut. “I-I don’t want you guys to get any more involved than you have to be. This…this could be dangerous.” I blink and see Leslie’s lifeless body on the barn floor. I wasn’t the one to discover her, and I never looked at the crime scene photos, but my imagination haunts me enough as it is.
“I’m not saying I want to go out and fight reapers.” Keith makes a face and takes a big drink of wine. “But I am saying I can get you the deets about this Claire girl. If she’s lived in PV for more than a hot minute, I can find out all about her.”
I let my head fall against Ethan’s shoulder for a second, needing a mini reprieve. I just filled Rene and Keith in on everything, but we’re pretty much back to square one. Something is messing with me—I know it. We can’t jump to conclusions and say it’s Claire, though her behavior is telling. There’s just so many unanswered questions. Why would she go after me like this? And how would she even know to take my hair and do whatever it is she’s doing?
If she cast a spell or sent a curse, my counter-spells should have taken care of it. Though, to be fair, there’s a good chance she’s a witch who’s been practicing magic her whole life and I’m just starting out. My attempts to break a curse could be totally moot at this point.
“Is this her?” Keith flips his phone around, showing me an Instagram profile.
“Yeah. That’s her.”
“Hmmm.” He scrolls through her profile. “She hasn’t posted anything in over a month, and nothing gets more than ten likes. Looks like it’s mostly family and coworkers following. Oh! She graduated three years after us. You don’t remember her?” he asks Rene.
“No,” she says apologetically. “PV High is on the small side, but we still had about a hundred kids per graduating class. I can’t even remember everyone who graduated with us. Does she have any siblings?”