AFTER AN HOUR OF LISTENING to Nathan and Sean ramble on about the witches—bouncing ideas back and forth, Nathan insisting we all should ensure Josh and Daniel were never left alone with Marianne and the clone—my mind still hadn’t erased the distraught expression Ethan had sent me on his way out the door.
Waiting until Sean headed off to the kitchen to make drinks, I excused myself and went upstairs.
At Ethan’s bedroom, I raised my hand to knock, but, instead, tugged down the handle and pushed open the door. No artificial lighting coated his personal space, and the closed curtains prevented any offering from the moon.
The mattress creaked beneath my weight as I sat on the end of his bed, where I studied his closed eyes and his dark outline, silhouetted against his white pillowcase, his a
