I cleared my throat. “Um, where are we going, guys?”

All four ignored me. Werewolves tended to be surly that way. They also tended to be big, even when in human form, as they were now. I kept my arms tight against my sides to keep from bumping into the two beside me as the car turned corners.

I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this conversation.

I leaned back on the seat, trying to ignore the smell of wet dog so prominent in the confines of the sedan I might as well have been locked in a kennel. My hair was so poofy from the late summer humidity that I had to pull the ponytail over my shoulder to rest my head. I spotted a leaf tangled in it and plucked it out. I was too far from the window to toss it, and I didn’t think throwing it on the floor was a very good idea, so I closed my hand around the leaf and whispered, “Cine-aphan.”

There was a loud crack, and all four werewolves jumped.

“Oops, sorry.” I opened my now empty hand and freed a puff of smoke from where I’d just disintegrated the leaf. I’d meant to vanish the darn thing, but after my dream-feed with Eli, my temperamental magic was on supercharge. Well, that and I wasn’t very good at spells in general. Most halfkinds couldn’t work magic at all, but were born magically sterile.

I tried to ignore the wolfish glowers fixed on me and zone out for a bit, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Eli. Temperamental or not, my magic should’ve worked on him. The Will was the gatekeeper for all magic usage, and its prime directive was to keep the existence of magickind a secret. The disaster at Eli’s house had to be the reason this werewolf police force picked me up. The Will spell must’ve alerted them about my magic misfiring. But it wasn’t my fault. It was as if Eli was made out of magic rubber. I didn’t doubt that this apparent immunity was why he detected my presence in his dream in the first place. He touched me. Surely somebody would believe the truth when they heard it.

But in my heart I knew that wasn’t likely. When you were Moira Nimue-Everhart’s only daughter, everybody was keen on you living up to the bad reputation. My mother was, after all, the girl who in her senior year set fire to the Alchemy building at Arkwell, an act she claimed was an accident, but which everybody else suspected had been revenge against a teacher who dared to give her a failing grade. Nobody could prove it though. Getting away with things was Mom’s special talent.

Too bad I didn’t inherit it.

After a while, the car slowed, then came to a stop. The driver lowered his window and spoke briefly to someone outside before moving on. When we came to a stop again a few moments later, the driver killed the engine and all four werewolves got out. I figured they wanted me to follow, so I scooted over and stood up, taking a big gulp of dog-free air.

I recognized our location at once. We were at Arkwell, on the northeast side of campus, parked next to one of the entrances into Coleville Cemetery. The stone archway leading into the cemetery looked three times larger than usual set against the backdrop of the night sky. Through it, I could just make out the first row of headstones.

My stomach did a nosedive as goose bumps blossomed on my arms and legs. If there was one thing I’d learned about the magical world, there was no such thing as coincidence.

“Follow,” said the werewolf who’d been driving.

“Where’re we going?”

He gave me a stern look then turned and strode off toward the archway. I fell into place behind him, the other three following suit. I tried not to panic, surrounded as I was by four creatures capable of turning me into Kibbles ’n Bits in about 2.3 seconds. I knew The Will prevented werewolves from attacking anyone without due cause, but given my current criminal status, I wasn’t sure that included me.

We followed a winding path in and around mausoleums, benches, statues, trees, and flowerbeds. The place was beautiful in a creepy, gothic kind of way. It was scary, too, full of shadows and odd noises.

Eventually the lead werewolf came to a stop out front of a gigantic mausoleum I recognized at once as the Kirkwoods’. A sudden sensation of déjà vu made me shiver with dread.

The werewolf pointed at a bench next to the door into the Kirkwoods’ tomb. “Sit. Wait.”

Did I mention werewolves were chatty?

I sat and waited.

He walked around the building, leaving me alone with the other three. They continued ignoring me and I them. We had a mutual understanding.

I focused my attention on the murmur of voices on the other side of the tomb. Lights flashed here and there above my head, reflecting off leaves and structures, but I couldn’t see anything from where I sat.

“Who found her?” a male voice said. To my surprise, I recognized one of my teachers, a wizard named Mr. Marrow. Knowing there was somebody I knew here made me a little less nervous. I liked Marrow, mostly because he taught history, a subject that didn’t require us to use a lot of magic, thereby lowering my chances for making a fool of myself.

The voice that answered him, however, I’d never heard before and hoped never to again, it was so horrible. Female and ancient, it sounded like the grinding of old gears in desperate need of oil. “The maintenance man found her. Mr. Culpepper was on his way home from fixing a plumbing problem at Flint Hall when he heard a disturbance.”

“This late? I’ve never known him to be so willing to repair something in the student dormitories after hours.”

“Yes, well, he says he was worried about structural damage if he didn’t fix it right away.”