Had she been willing to trade her jeweled cross for a vial of her own blood, she wouldn’t now be contemplating suicide and dying for her love.

The microwave dinged loudly. A few kernels kept popping, sounding like gunfire. Jay had been silent, processing for long minutes, as had Kristi.

“You’ve worried me,” he finally said. “I think I should leave Bruno with you.”

Kristi managed a half laugh. She’d wanted him to hear her, believe her, but she didn’t need another damn savior. Her father was enough. “Mrs. Calloway would love that monster in here. I can’t have pets.” She walked to the microwave and gingerly removed the plump, slightly burned bag.

He glanced pointedly over to the water and food dishes on the floor near the refrigerator. “Looks like you already do.”

She opened the bag and steam escaped in a buttery cloud. “Houdini is a stray. He doesn’t live here, really.” She noticed the skepticism in his expression and added, “I don’t have a litter box. So the answer is a big N-O to the dog, but thanks, just the same.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

She sucked in a quick breath. “Uh…” Her eyes met his again. “I don’t think that would be such a hot idea. And what would be a worse one is if you had any thoughts, any thoughts at all, of explaining this to my dad.”

“He might be able to help.”

“Not yet,” she insisted, pouring the popped corn and blackened unpopped kernels into a bowl. “Later.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jay looked out the window toward the campus. Just then he heard the sound of the chapel bells tolling off the hour through one slightly open window.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

“On top of everything else, I don’t like the fact that you’re living in Tara Atwater’s apartment. That’s too coincidental to me.”