Should I hunt around for witch-type medicine? In the short while I had known Cal, he had been the strong one in our relationship. I had counted on him. Now he was counting on me, and I didn't know if I was ready.

The mantel clock above my head struck three slow chimes. I stared at it. Three o'clock in the morning! I set my mug down on the coffee table. I was supposed to be home by one. And I didn't even have my car—Cal had picked me up. He was clearly in no shape to drive. Selene wasn't back yet. Dammit! I said to myself. Think, think.

I could call my dad and have him come get me. Very unappealing option.

It was too late to call the only taxi service in Widow's Vale, which was in essence Ed Jinkins in his old Cutlass Supreme hanging out at the commuter station.

I could take Cal's car.

Five minutes later I let myself out of the house carefully. Cal was still asleep. I had taken the keys from his jacket, then written a note of explanation and tucked it in his jeans pocket, hoping he would understand. I stopped dead when I saw Hunter's gray sedan sitting in the driveway like an accusation. Crap! What to do about his car?

There was nothing I could do. Hunter had the keys. And he was gone. I couldn't push the car anywhere by myself and anyway, that seemed so—methodical somehow. So planned.

My head spun. What should I do? Waves of exhaustion Rowed over me, almost making me weep. But I had to accept the fact that I couldn't do anything about this. Cal or Selene would have to deal with Hunter's car. Trembling, I climbed into Cal's gold Explorer, turned on the brights, and headed for home.

Cal had used spells on me tonight, spells of binding so I couldn't move. Why? So I wouldn't interfere in his battle with Hunter? So I wouldn't be hurt? Or because he didn't trust me? Well, if he hadn't trusted me before, he knew better now. I clamped my teeth together on a semihysterical giggle. It wasn't every girl who would throw a Wiccan ceremonial dagger into the neck of her boyfriend's enemy.