Marked by Midnight
I stand barefoot, watching her, arms folded before me, the night air thick with incense and pine.
Shawn is right beside me, his shoulder almost brushing mine, the flames dancing in his silver eyes as he watches them too. Alice flanks my other side, arms crossed, her stance, solid as always, but her jaw is tight. She keeps glancing at me when she thinks I'm not watching, but I feel it.
Ophelia lifts a bowl of moonwater, tilts it until a single drop falls onto the black stone at the center of the circle. The drop hisses, steam rising in the shape of a wolf’s jaw.
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