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My knuckles were white against the steering wheel the entire drive home.

The narrow roads seemed twice as winding in the dark, and every time a shadow played across the windshield, my heart thudded into my throat.

I didn’t even want to glance in the rearview mirror. Listening to Damian tell me about the coven was one thing. Being alone with that truth was another. I may not have accepted every word of it, but my nervous system had. It believed the threat was now hiding behind every tree, in every shadow, and beyond every turn.

At one point, I almost drove off the road. A sharp bend crept up on me, and I overcorrected, narrowly missing a tree trunk.

The thought that I’d already been siphoned by some sick creature of the dark made my stomach knot itself. I’d been violated, and I’d stood there and let Aurora wipe me down afterwards like I’d spilled spaghetti on myself. We all had. I wondered how much it had taken from me. If I’d already lost years of my life.

I bolted the door behind me as soon as I got home. I closed every curtain and cursed myself for not having a security system.

The first thing I did was place the shadow token inside the makeup bag in my purse, buried under Kleenex and a small hairbrush. Then I texted my sister.

hey it’s been a while. just wanted to make sure you’re okay.

I sent the exact same thing to Maya. They both responded within half an hour. They were both fine. Oblivious. I closed my eyes with my phone clutched to my chest and exhaled.

I microwaved some leftovers and pulled on pajamas. My phone lit from the coffee table. The group chat, which I now dreaded, because I was going to have to lie to the only women I could talk to about any of this.

Priya: having lunch with that guy from work tomorrow. WTF

Callie: OMG

Priya: he says he wants to understand my vision for the user experience roadmap. the one I shared six weeks ago

Jess: we need a detailed report

Callie: Kai is sending me thirst traps. I didn’t know a man could look that hot while cooking the worst meal I’ve ever seen

Jess: count your lucky stars. I’ve got nothing. did he at least have his tender parts covered? that oil can burn

Callie: yeah but barely

Callie: Marlowe are you ok. you’re the worst texter

I started typing, second-guessing every word:

I’m ok. I read something online.

Callie: ???

I need to tell you in person, I wrote. can you stop by my place tomorrow after work?

Callie: ok

Jess: ok

Priya: sure

I wasn’t a natural liar, even by omission, unless it was to appease my own boss. I sent a few emojis, closed the chat, and pushed the pasta away from me. Then I opened Instagram, but I didn’t get past scrolling my feed before the nausea started.

A few churns of my stomach first. I collapsed forward, over my crossed legs, and dug my fingers into the sofa arm.

Then I was on my knees, grunting through a tight, writhing pain. Like hot snakes slithering through my intestines. A tremor took hold of my limbs.

I crawled to the bathroom, the rug scraping my knees, my face already damp with sweat. I hugged the toilet bowl and retched. And retched. And retched. Nothing came up yet.

The headache came next. Blinding and searing, starting at the base of my spine, folding its way over my skull like a wave of lava. I saw stars, twinkling right next to the overhead light. I choked and howled and cried into the toilet bowl, my hair wet against my face.