Free Edge of Seventeen by Cristy Rey Page A

complete mundane-ness, it made up for in spades
with Eunice. The magic swam around her. Sunday read Eunice’s aura
like a book. No doubt about it, Eunice was a witch, a powerful one
at that, as caretakers often were.
    Having identified Eunice, Sunday carefully
investigated her. She even stalked Eunice to ensure that, with her
guard down, the caretaker didn’t suddenly change dispositions.
Manufacturing a caretaker spirit was tough, and even a skilled
witch could only hold the façade for so long before the veil
dropped. If Eunice was faking, she was the best imitation that
Sunday had ever seen. In truth, it would have made Sunday admire
her just a bit for being able to pull it off.
    “That makes me feel better,” Sunday
confessed. She might not tell them how, but it did. It was a
comfort to know that Eunice would be among the coven.
    “So, where are we meeting?” Her friends
answered with broad smiles.
    The more information she had, the better. If
she was going to join them, then Sunday needed to take the proper
precautions before attending. For Sunday, worst-case scenarios were
high on a scale of probability, particularly where witches were
concerned. Though doubtful that Kayla and Sammy would ever be
invited to join a coven even the slightest bit threatening, there
was a chance that Sunday would be waltzing into a veritable lion’s
den. As much as she tried to avoid it, Fate did have the tendency
to put her right where she least wanted to be.
    “We always meet at Vicky’s house,” Kayla
answered. “She lives with her grandma, who is kind of our leader, I
guess. She’s been practicing since she was a teenager, so, like,
decades.”
    “And decades,” Sammy joked.
    “I’m going to need the address,” Sunday
stated flatly. And that was that. Old habits died hard. Sunday was
back at the task of sussing out threats within covens, acting the
judge, jury, and executioner. Hopefully, it stopped short this
time, though.
    The ride to Vicky’s later that night was
easy. Through mostly residential streets, the late night traffic
proved to work in Sunday’s favor. She rode around the block one
more time, keeping her eye out for any neighboring houses with the
lights still on and potential late nighters and insomniacs. Any one
of the neighbors might consider a woman riding around on a bicycle
well after two a.m. on a weeknight, suspicious.
    More often than not, Sunday planned escape
routes from places that she frequented. Staying off the radar meant
knowing the quickest routes out of town and securing drop boxes
with essentials in case of a quick escape. She couldn’t be sure
that she was being stalked, but it was a possibility. During her
reign as the Incarnate, Sunday had done some terrible things. If
recognized, someone might sound the alarm, and then vampires would
crawl out of the woodwork and put her head on a stake in
retribution. Given Kayla and Sammy’s overwhelming mundaneness,
however, their coven was likely no more than a glorified suburban
book club.
    As she came around the corner again, Sunday
hopped off her bike and dropped it behind a tree. If she was going
to enter a coven’s den, she had to do a bit of homework beforehand.
Picking locks was easy. Years of breaking into empty houses for a
night’s sleep and stealing cars made her a veritable pro, but that
wasn’t a skill she needed to use tonight. She crept closer to the
house and peered into the windows.
    Nothing jumped out of the shadows with a
neon sign blaring, Evil Witches, and likely, it wouldn’t. If
Sunday were going to learn anything about what went on in Vicky and
her grandmother’s house, then she would have to use the
extrasensory gifts in her arsenal. All energy left a stain. It
lived and breathed in the world, seeping from people’s pores and
swarming in the air between them. Magic fragranced the air with its
residue, and Sunday’s unique gift was her ability to sense and
manipulate it. She couldn’t remember a time when she