We’ve Got Some Secrets to Keep

I didn’t know a thing about you, did I?

Jillian Spiridon


Photo by freestocks.org from Pexels

You’ve blocked me on Facebook. Your profile is now a closed book, and there’s not even your smiling profile picture left to mock me.

Only when I enlist Amy’s help do I realize the why of it: there you are in a brand new picture, your hands pressed to the baby bump of a girl you said was an old coworker from your temp job.

My one relief is that at least you didn’t lie about your name. At least I know who to curse under the light of this month’s full moon.

Oh, you thought you were the only one with secrets?

Well, it seems two can play at that game.

“Gia, I love you, and I never want to get on your bad side — but do you really want to bring the coven back together for this?” Amy wrinkles her nose in distaste. “He’s just a redneck from Indiana. Let him play house with his baby mamma.”

“There are principles, Amy,” I say, “and no man crosses one of us. That’s the pact we made. We still have the scars to prove it.”

“Yeah, in unmentionable places,” Amy mutters. But then she shakes her head. “Look, Mira and Sophie are onboard and everything, but do you really think it’s the smart thing to do? I mean, it’s bad enough the vamps have conspiracy theorists on their trails. All those blood sacrifices were bound to raise suspicion at some point.”

“We’re not doing a rite like that,” I respond. “But if you want out — ”

“I’m with you, but next time make sure it’s some exec with a lot to lose rather than some white trash no one will miss.”

I smile at the shadows. “Deal.”

When I join hands with my pact-sisters just a few nights later, it’s so cold that I almost think the ghosts have joined us for a little mischief. Mira and Sophie glance my way nervously while Amy squeezes my hand in reassurance.

I stare into a fire in which I’ve thrown all the things I need to put a hex on Chad: a lock of his hair (which I collected out of caution a few weeks after we started dating), a vial of his blood (I told him I was into New Age tokens of affection), and a pair of his boxers (left behind with all his other discarded junk).