Although Mogwai had made himself scarce during the whole hexing incident this morning, he was back and demanding to be fed. Some helpful familiar he was. I filled his bowl with kibble, put Koko Taylor on the stereo, and curled up on the futon in my living room.

It had been a long day, a day that started with me waking up thinking I was dying of an aneurysm. It had been a long forty-eight hours containing some of the biggest highs and lows of my life.

Sinclair’s question echoed in my thoughts. So where does this leave us?

Good question.

I’m a-mixed up, Koko Taylor sang in the background, an unabashedly fierce growl in her voice. Mixed up about you.

“Me, too, Koko,” I said aloud. Just a little mixed up, and I didn’t know what to do. That sounded about right.

I liked Sinclair. I liked him a lot. I liked spending time with him and I was attracted to him. The whole thing about being threatened and hexed by his secret twin sister was an issue, but that wasn’t his fault. Okay, I felt a strong sense of betrayal that he hadn’t been upfront with me about such a major aspect of his life, but I could forgive him for it sooner or later. We were still getting to know each other. I hadn’t been one hundred percent truthful with him, either. I hadn’t told him about my feelings for Cody, or whatever the hell it was I had going on with Stefan.

But if I was honest with myself, totally, completely honest, what I felt for Sinclair didn’t compare. There was none of that deep yearning or searing emotional intensity that both compelled and frightened me.

What there was instead was something else I craved, something I’d missed out on throughout the course of my life: a sense of togetherness and desire, fun and belonging, all the sweetness of being young and infatuated and oblivious to the rest of the world. I wanted to know what it was like to be the teenagers in the park with their hands in each other’s back pockets or the couple at the beach romping in the water while their stupid little dog barked its head off. I wanted the satisfaction of riding on Sinclair’s handlebars while Stacey Brooks stared in envy.

Like I’d said, I wanted to feel like a normal human girl for once in my life.

But I wasn’t. And this probably wasn’t the best time to pretend I was.

Dauda-dagr’s hilt was poking into my side. I unbuckled my belt and slid the dagger from its sheath, holding it up with the blade at eye level. The hilt felt preternaturally cold and bracing against my palm. The reflection of my eyes gazed back at me in the bright rune-marked steel, black on black and inhuman.