Page 40 of Violet

Zoe nods. “He’s mentioned you before.”

She doesn’t say if it was good or bad. She doesn’t explain. She just floats there, watching me. Amber does the same thing, minus the floating, from the other side of the counter, while I stand awkwardly in the doorway.

I’m not really sure what to do with myself. Sit and wait? Go home, shift, and tear apart some rotted logs? See if I can get into Club Vee with a fake ID and get wasted?

What was I thinking, coming here in the first place? It was such a stupid idea!

Even if my brother was home, why would he give a damn about my problems? He rarely visits anymore. Never calls or texts. The only time I ever see Wes is here at the cafe, and it’s always the same bullshit small-talk. How’s work? Gone fishing lately? You should stop by for dinner... not like it ever happens.

I’m not even sure why I came looking for him. Is it because after our mom died, he was always there to comfort me? Because he was the one I ran to whenever my chest hurt and I felt like every part of me was breaking?

Today, losing Violet—knowing that I never had her in the first place—feels like that. And it turns me into some pathetic little kid who needs his big brother.

“I should go.” I spin around and head for the door.

“Stay,” Amber says gently. “I can make you your favorite. A honey latte with extra whipped cream.”

I start to shake my head, but then nod instead. Because I need to drown myself in something, and what they say about bears and honey is true. Unless that bear is my brother Wes, which doesn’t really count. The rest of us love the stuff.

The moment Amber sets the drink in front of me, I take a huge sip of pure heaven. She added a few extra spoonfuls of the sweet elixir, and for a split second I start to feel better. Of course, that’s when my chest constricts, and I realize nothing will ever be okay again.

“Wanna talk about it?” Amber rounds the counter and settles on a bar stool next to me.

I glance over my shoulder, to where Zoe is still floating cross-legged over a table, and shake my head.

“I could just wait outside,” the witch says, floating to her feet.

“Don’t do that. I’ll go.” I start to get to my feet too.

“Nah, you’re staying.” Zoe says, pushing open the door. “I could use a smoke, anyway.”

“But you don’t smoke,” Amber calls after her. Then her eyes widen and she shifts... into her witchy friend.

It’s exactly how Violet shifted. One second, she had gray hair and wrinkles, and the next, she was suddenly my age.

“A chameleon,” I mutter, shaking my head. “How did I not know?”

“Of course you knew I was a chameleon.” Amber stares at me incredulously.

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Then who?” Amber looks around, as if another chameleon might magically appear.

“Violet.” I tell her and instantly feel a wave of guilt. Because even though she betrayed me, I can’t get her pleading face out of my head, begging me not to tell a soul.

“I don’t think I know her.” Amber shrugs. “The only Violet I’ve met is—”

“The librarian.” I groan and run a hand through my hair.

“That’s impossible. Wes said she’s a skunk shifter.”

“She’s been posing as one. Promise you won’t tell anyone? She doesn’t want people to know.”

“Why not? Are you sure it wasn’t a chameleon pretending to be Violet? Even I could shift into her if I tried. Just not for long.”

Amber’s form flickers, and when I see Violet’s familiar face, I feel a moment of hope. Hope that my gray-haired mate is still out there somewhere. Hope that the girl my age was just an impostor. Hope that it was all an elaborate prank and Violet hadn’t lied to me for all those months.

Except one look at Amber and I know she’s not Violet. Just like I knew that the younger woman in Violet’s apartment was.