“I’ve already spoken with Lily,” Detective Medina said, as Jack touched the doorknob. She turned, slowly, to see him holding the Recipe for the Perfect Murder in his hand. “When I showed her the recipe, she started stammering about Belle’s innocence. I didn’t know the two were friends. What was their relationship like before Lily went to stay at the facility?”

Jack swallowed, a pang of fear shooting through her stomach. A pang of warning. “They hated each other.”

3 A Kiss Before Dying

When Raven was fourteen, he lay down in a glass coffin in his orchard. Jack stood over him, heart hammering like a fist. There was lightning in her veins. Starlight in her eyes. At fourteen years old, Raven was already so beautiful, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“I tried to save you,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Seeing Raven in that coffin was like looking at a vision of the future. There was no if about saying goodbye to Raven Holloway.

Only when.

The tears that fell were genuine. The pain in her chest, crushing. After a minute of staring at him, she turned to the girl at the edge of the clearing, the one dressed in head-to-toe black.

“I can’t do this,” Jack said.

Raven’s eyelids fluttered open. He was wearing a black velvet suit, and one of his dark curls had fallen into his eyes. “Are you afraid to kiss me?” he asked, sitting up.

“I…” Yes. No. Maybe, she thought, her gaze trained on Belladonna Drake. Belle had insisted on playing the witch in this scenario, because the role suited her so perfectly. She had that dark, glossy hair. Kohl-rimmed eyes. A smile that could cut you to pieces, or bring you to life.

“I told you, it’s okay,” Belle said, flashing that duplicitous smile. “Tonight we’re sharing him.”

Jack’s throat felt tight. She took a long, slow breath before striding over to Belle. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Out of character?”

Belle rolled her eyes. Looping her arm through Jack’s, she led her friend through a copse of apple trees. Away from the coffin and the dark-eyed boy. “Look, I get it,” Belle said when they were a safe distance from Raven. “You’d rather die than kiss a boy.”

“That isn’t it.” Jack wrapped her arms around herself. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand. Whatever it is, you can tell… Poppy, why are you crying?”

Jack wanted to correct her, to say, My name is Jack, but she couldn’t do that without offering an explanation. And… there wasn’t one. At least, not one that would make sense to the others. She wasn’t changing her name because her identity was changing. It was almost the opposite of that. Poppy had never felt right. But Jack fit, in a way that nothing had before.