Mary K. flipped the visor back up. "Even though she loved your boyfriend."

"She thought she loved him," I said, getting prickly. "She didn't even know him, though. She still doesn't. Anyway, you know how she is about guys. She likes the thrill of the chase and the conquest much more than any long-term thing. Use them and lose them. And Cal didn't want to be with her." I sighed again. "It's complicated."

Mary K. shrugged.

"You think I shouldn't go out with Cal just because Bree wanted him?" I asked. My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

"No, not exactly," said Mary K. "It's just, I feel kind of sorry for Bree. She lost you and Cal."

I sniffed. "Well, she's being a total bitch to me now," I muttered, forgetting how much I had been missing Bree just minutes ago. "So she obviously isn't all broken up about it."

Mary K. stared out the window. "Maybe being a bitch is just how Bree acts sad," she murmured absently, watching the barren trees pass. "If you were my best friend for about twelve years and you left me for a guy you just met, maybe I would be a bitch, too."

I didn't answer. Just stay out of it, I thought. Like my fourteen-year-old sister knew anything. She'd allowed herself to get involved with a sleazebag like Bakker, after all.

But deep down, I wondered if I was irritated because Mary K. was right.

CHAPTER 3

Woodbane

Litha, 1998

This is the time of year when I am most sad. Sad and angry. One of the last circles that I did with my mum and dad was for Beltane, eight years ago. I was eight, Linden was six, and Alwyn was only four. I remember the three of us sitting with the other kids, sons and daughters of the coven's members. The warmth of May was trying to steal in a banish April's cold, dreary wetness. Around our maypole the grown-ups were laughing and drinking wine. We kids dances, weaving out ribbons in and out of each other, gathering magick to us in a pastel net.