CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bo and I sat in the green space of the roundabout. The globe streetlights of the park flickered. The shadows must have been short-circuiting them.
Camille stood in front of us, watching as we caught our breath.
She looked like a primmer version of Cassandra. Maybe it was the fact that Cassandra was a wolf shifter—in her, there was always pure wilderness and power lurking under the surface. She was a tomboy, and you could tell she hung out around males.
Camille was the type of supernatural I was used to—calm on the surface but with an air of magic about her. She was much more in command of her skills. Only her troubled chestnut eyes betrayed her feelings.
“You’re a witch,” I said.
“Only by necessity,” Camille said. “I never wanted this life.”
“Why haven’t you kill
