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Adam’s skull throbbed in time to the music as the opening act launched into another song.

He drew his wards around himself to shut out the crowd’s emotions—waves of excitement spiked with the occasional pink static of lust or the placid gray of boredom. All of it broke against him, eroding his calm. Closing his eyes, he focused on pushing it away.

The band’s set finally ended and they shouted their thanks to the crowd. While his ears still rang, the din was gratefully quieter.

“What does MUD even stand for?” Adam wondered aloud.

“Moist Used Doily,” Jodi replied happily.

They were here for the main act, a woman named Cathedra. Adam hadn’t heard of her, but even Vic had seemed excited when Jodi had invited them to the show.

“She’s a witch too!” she’d said.

Adam could almost hear the chants of, One of us. One of us.

“Sure,” he’d said, hoping he’d be better by then.

He’d known not to expect to be fully healed, but if anything, he was worse.

His recent injuries had left him sensitive to noise and undone much of his hard-learned control over his Sight.

It must have shown on his face because Vic leaned close to whisper, “We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”

“I am!” Adam plastered on a grin.

He knew he’d said it too loudly when Jodi and her friends turned toward him. Adam gave them two thumbs up.

Jodi shook her head.

“Dork.” But she said it without rancor.

Things were better between Adam and the local witches, but he suspected their newfound affection for him had more to do with his recent suspension from his role as the Page of Swords than with anything he’d done for them.

Vic gave Adam’s hand a squeeze. The contact, simple as it was, helped to ground him. Adam settled into his skin and used the pause between acts to build his walls a little higher.

He was trying to enjoy himself, he really was, but a new sensitivity to noise and crowds had come with the scars on his arms and chest. There was also a click in his shoulder when he moved it a certain way. It had been healed but would never be the same.

Adam had obsessed over what to wear while Vic had slid into a nicer pair of jeans and a tight navy V-neck that showed the results of his near-daily runs. The blue brought out the golden tones of his skin. He’d grown his dark hair to a finger’s length and hadn’t shaved for a few days, probably because he knew that Adam liked the look and the feel of it on his own chin.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Vicente Martinez. In comparison he felt skinny and shabby. He’d done his best with his sandy hair, though his T-shirt was black and his jeans would show their wear in better light. Beneath the shirt he’d put on a lightweight, long-sleeved crewneck that hid his arms. No one had commented, but if they did, he’d tell them he was bringing the nineties back.

Adam took a deep breath as the crowd stilled. Anticipation, like hot yellow sparks, burst across the room.

The theater was the kind of space he would have enjoyed exploring if it was empty. It must have been beautiful once, with columns and antique scrollwork almost lost in the sudden darkness.

The curtain rose, revealing a tall-backed velvet throne and a woman sprawled across it. She had to be melting in a black, ruffled dress that sparkled beneath the stage lights.

Rising from her chair, she lifted a microphone. The band behind her started to play as she launched into a song Adam didn’t know.

The sound was something like Adele’s evil twin backed up by a pipe organ.

Adam knew right away that Jodi was right about her. Cathedra was a witch who’d woven the craft into her music.

Jodi looked enraptured. She’d dyed her hair a deep purple and straightened it into a long sheet. She seemed happy, more alive than the last time Adam had seen her, in jeans and a T-shirt printed with the Moon tarot card.

Emily, a shorter blond witch from Jodi’s coven, wore a sweater she’d probably woven herself. Adam could sense the magic in it.