Chapter Seven

Rita

The farmhouse kitchen was bathed in the soft blue light of dawn, the scent of rooibos tea and drying biltong filling the air. Rita cupped her mug between her palms, letting the warmth seep into her skin as her grandmother stirred honey into her own cup.

"Tell me more about your friends," Gogo said in Zulu, her voice gentle but probing.

Rita smiled, recounting Freda’s sharp wit, Pru’s eerie talent for reading objects, and even Deidre’s dramatic flair—though she carefully omitted the vampire’s penchant for dropping century-old trauma like it was small talk.

"And the classes? No trouble?"

"None," Rita lied smoothly, pushing thoughts of Nathan’s burning stares and Zach’s unsettling compliments out of her mind.

Gogo’s knowing gaze lingered, but she didn’t press. Instead, she switched topics. "Has your mama called you?"

Rita’s chest tightened. "No."

Her grandmother reached across the table, her beaded bracelets clinking softly as she squeezed Rita’s hand. "She loves you, mtanami. But grief… it cages some people."

Rita nodded, swiping at a traitorous tear before it could fall.

"I’m here," Gogo murmured. "Always."

 

Rita barely made it ten steps into the school before Zach materialized at her side, his grin all sharp edges.

"Rita," he purred, falling into step with her. "You’re looking particularly delicious today."

She side-eyed him. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Oh, darling, I’m very self-aware." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I just can’t help it. Your magic pulses. Like a heartbeat. It’s… intoxicating."

Before Rita could decide whether to knee him or laugh, Deidre swooped in, linking their arms.

"Ugh, baby vampires," she sighed, shooing Zach away with a flick of her wrist. "No subtlety. No charm. Just endless, exhausting hunger."

Zach’s smirk didn’t waver. "Says the relic who hibernated through the invention of electricity."

Deidre gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. "Rude! Rita, defend me."

Rita laughed, letting Deidre drag her down the hall—but not before catching the way Zach’s eyes darkened as they walked away.

 

Advanced Spellcraft was Rita’s last class before lunch. The room was half-empty, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. She’d just settled at a desk when Derek slid into the seat beside her.

"You’re late," she noted.

"Fashionably," he corrected, flashing a grin. "And worth the wait, right?"

Rita rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

As the professor droned on about elemental theory, Derek nudged her. "You know, the real secrets aren’t in these lectures. They’re in the restricted section."

"The what?"

"The library’s hidden wing. Full of grimoires they don’t want students touching." His voice dropped. "I’ve got access. If you’re curious."

Rita hesitated. Freda’s warning about male witches echoed in her mind—but the hunger in Derek’s eyes wasn’t predatory. It was excited. Like he wanted a partner in crime.

"What’s in it for you?" she asked.

"Pleasure of your company?" At her flat look, he laughed. "Fine. I’m researching something. Could use a second pair of eyes."

The bell rang, cutting off her response. Derek stood, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

"Meet me in the library tonight. Eighth shelf. Bring your wit—and maybe a snack. Those books are dry."

Then he was gone, leaving Rita with a flutter of curiosity—and the creeping sense she’d just agreed to something dangerous.