“We did. A family member made a deal with a demon. They passed before the deal was up and Anora was the nearest kin.” His lie isn’t that far off, really. “We stopped it in time, obviously.”
“Ahhh good.” Patrick eyes me up and down, licking his lips. Ethan protectively steps in front of me, holding out a hand. “She’ll make a good hunter, I’ve been told. And if not, being able to produce a couple of strapping young boys isn’t out of the question, now is it?” Patrick laughs and I rage inside, unable to help the magic that gathers around my fingers. I turn my head, looking at the TV that’s mounted in the corner of the room, and release the electric tension. The TV turns on, going to a local news station.
“Whoops,” Sam says, grabbing the remote from the middle of the table. “Meant to check the weather.”
I’ve never had my powers act all whacky like this, though to be fair, I’ve never gathered raw energy in my hand like this either. I thought the binding spell was completely lifted, but maybe remnants of it remained, blocking parts of my ability.
Or maybe I’m just finally remembering how to do it.
The other hunters come back in, and I’m left doodling, paying attention but not getting involved. Around ten PM, I’m exhausted and am coughing even more when we finally call it a night.
“Follow me,” Sam says, waving at me to come with her down a hall. “Our room is this way.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a lingering look at Ethan.
“They have what we need for the night. Pajamas and toothbrushes and all.”
“Oh, okay.” I’m not that high maintenance, though when I do wear makeup, I like to remove it. I go with Sam, Julia, and Stephanie up a flight of stairs, passing by empty desks on our way down another hall that leads up to the dormitories. We enter a room that very much reminds me of my freshman college days, with two bunk-beds pushed up against each wall in a small room. There’s one dresser near the door and a tiny desk at the foot of one of the beds.
“I call top,” Sam says right away.
“Same,” Stephanie calls.
“I don’t care,” I groan, throat hurting even more, and heavily sit on one of the bottom bunks.
“Are you okay, Anora?” Julia asks, brows furrowing.
“I have a cold,” I dismiss. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”
Julia comes over and presses the back of her hand to my forehead. “You have a fever.”
“Really? Ugh.”
“Yeah. Um…I can see if I can get you some meds or something.”
“Witches can get sick?” Stephanie asks Sam, who gives her a what the fuck look.
“Yeah, apparently we can,” I answer, taking my shoes off and tucking my feet up under myself. I hadn’t allowed myself to fully feel just how shitty I felt while in the conference room, but now that I’m stuck in this room—without Ethan—I’m allowing myself to acknowledge just how shitty I feel.
“Rest,” Julia says. “I’ll see what I can get for you, okay? I have to get us all PJs and toothbrushes anyway.”
“Thanks,” I tell her and lay back, using my coat as a blanket for the time being. The beds have been made with one thin cover, reminding me of a hospital blanket. It’s always cold in hospitals and yet they insist on giving you something not much thicker than a sheet. I’ll never understand why.
Everyone else leaves, and I close my eyes. I’ve always had a hard time sleeping anywhere that wasn’t home, and a restless night’s sleep isn’t what I need right now. Maybe ten minutes later, Julia, Sam, and Stephanie come back, and Julia gives me a plain white t-shirt and a pair of navy blue sweatpants.
“I couldn’t find a thermometer, but I got this,” she offers, holding up a digital thermal scanner. She points it at my forehead and grimaces. “Yeah, you have a fever. This is reading your skin at a hundred degrees, so you’re probably over that.”
“Great.” I let out a breath only to start coughing again. I went downhill fast, which probably means this isn’t a cold, but the flu, which tends to hit you harder just like this. Taking my clothes, I go into a bathroom to change and brush my teeth. I shiver on the way back and crawl under the covers, wishing for an extra blanket. Sam and Stephanie are sitting on the top bunks, legs dangling over, when someone softly knocks on the door.
Julia gets up and opens it, revealing Ethan.
“Hey,” he says and steps in.
“What are you doing here?” Julia asks, words rushed. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t care.” He steps inside. “Anora isn’t feeling well and I know she’ll want another blanket.”
“Someone is whipped,” Sam chides as I sit up.
“I’m not whipped,” Ethan shoots back. “Since I came here voluntarily.”