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“You actually know about all that?”
Circe waggles her brows. “You think they break intoHathaway Harborwith alerts aboutrealnews?”
I chuckle again. This time it’s genuine. “Winning point.”
There’s an answering quip in her bright-gold eyes, but it never materializes on her lips. Instead, she’s back to sobriety that’s a little jarring.
“But you…never really blended.”
Maybe more than a little.
Though it’s not as if I haven’t already admitted this truth.Longbefore now. “Now you know why I liked the library so much.”
Still no change to the gleam in her gaze—or the knowingness across her mouth. The certainty that solidifies as she continues to mull over my statement.
I heave a resigned sigh. She’s not going to let this go until I confess everything.
“All right, I didn’t fit in…mostly because I didn’t want to,” I confess. “Living so much in the human world always felt like…”
“What?” she asks, all the way invested now.
“Well…like denying my demon side.”
“And your grandfather along with it?”
She gets my fast but grateful nod. “But it was hard to figure out all the demon stuff too.” I wince. “Really hard.”
“Which is perfectly okay to admit, diva.” The nickname is more like an endearment now, especially when coupled with a gentle grasp of my tense fingers. “Allof it. You grew up with one foot in each world, though the ground in both probably felt like quicksand.”
A dry chuff tumbles free. “Whatever it was, it wasnoteasy to navigate in heels.”
“And there’syourwinning point.”
“Unless you count the part about being told I now possess a third leg.” I nudge up my chin as she crunches a confused frown. “I mean, isn’t witch DNA capable of that too?”
She snorts softly. “And there’s your victory lap.”
The wind, a typical gust of late-September air, blows extra tendrils into my own face. I scrape them free with a defined scowl. “Victory also being relative?”
“To what?” She pushes in and grabs my hand. “What are you doubting here, Kara?”
Kara. I’m that to her now, instead ofdiva. The distinction makes me edgy again.
I pull my hand away, tangling it with the other in an obvious fidget. “Doubt…isn’t exactly the right verb. I’m just…wondering, I guess. Perhaps questioning?”
“That’s fair.” She straightens a little. “And normal. Questions about what?”
“About…all of it.”
I look across the meadow, trying to fill my face with apology. Can Hecate see it? Or even feel it? I’m supposed to be minding their instructions right now. Feeling the essence of my breaths and flowing that into my performance on these drills. So my timing for this existential crisis isn’t the greatest. Or maybe it’s happened exactly as it should. I hope for the latter before pushing on.
“I mean, I’m a witch,” I finally say. “And obviously, that’s not like discovering I’m double-jointed or have attached earlobes. But whatdoesit mean? How does it define what my life is like from now on? Or not like? Do I even have a life expectancy? Am I…killable or not?”
“We are all killable, sweet one.” Hecate’swhooshof new proximity is barely tempered by the affection with which she finishes. “Even I and every deity in Olympus. Granted, that would take a concerted effort and a celestial civil war, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. As for your own annihilation?” She dips her head, managing to look perplexed and sage in the same moment. “That’s a query we’re all still trying to explore. Safely, of course.”
“Safely.”
It’s unsteady in my throat but a necessity in my mind. The implications are already there.
