Mama has a fire going and a steaming cup of peppermint tea waiting for me when I step inside. I drip miserably on the doormat until she brings me a towel.

“Storm came outta nowhere,” she says, rubbing my arms. “Clear as can be when I went to bed and darker than a politician’s soul this morning. I closed up shop at noon and came right home!”

“Did you beat the rain?” I ask, shucking my jacket.

“Barely.”

I go and grab a dry set of clothes before changing in the bathroom, noting that Dev’s room is empty and dark. I wonder if he and Jules are still sitting in the truck glaring at one another.

I hang my drenched clothes over the shower curtain rod before heading back to the living room and wrapping my frozen fingers around my mug of tea. Mama sits down beside me, a cup of her own in hand.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I sigh, almost hating how well she can read me. “Nothing. Dev and Jules are fighting. Oh, and I hallucinated in class today.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Hallucinated? What did you see?”

So I tell her about the snakes, with as much detail as I can provide. Mama’s face is pale by the end of it.

“You’re sure it was snakes?” she asks.

I nod.

Mama curses and stands, beginning to pace. “We need to tell your grandmother,” she says.

My stomach sinks. “What’s going on?”

“It was a vision, baby girl.”

I had already sort of guessed that. “And what? Mr. Peach is gonna turn into a snake?”

The idea would be laughable if Grandmother hadn’t hinted at the existence of shifters once or twice during our lessons.

“Visions generally aren’t cut and dry like that. There’s a lot of symbolism involved.” She continues pacing back and forth across the worn wood floors.

“So what do snakes symbolize?” I ask.

“Death.”

My hands begin to shake. I set down my tea on the coffee table. “So Mr. Peach is gonna die?”

“Not necessarily.” She stops in front of the coat rack where her purse hangs and pulls out her phone. She hits a few buttons and puts it to her ear, then resumes pacing.

“Mother? It’s happened.”

There is a pause and Mama’s eyes widen.

“What? No! She did not lose her virginity! She had a vision!”

I choke out a laugh. Grandmother asks me every week if I’ve slept with the LaTour boy yet. I’ve explained to her countless times that Jules and I are just friends but still she asks over and over again, almost hopefully. It has gotten old.

“A snake,” Mama hisses into the phone.

There’s a long pause this time. I imagine Grandmother putting a hand to her chest and gasping dramatically. It’s something she does a lot.

“Okay. Thank you, mother. Call me if you find anything.” She hangs up and sits down beside me, seeming to calm a little bit. “She’s going to look into it.”

I nod. My trembling fingers dig into the cushion of the couch on either side of my lap. “How do I stop it?”

“First of all,” she says, turning to me. “Just because the snakes appeared to you on Mr. Peach doesn’t mean your teacher’s gonna die, or is even involved at all. Visions are tricky, especially for you because we don’t know your specific style yet.”

“My style?”

“Yes. For instance, my visions come as flashes of concept. I touch something or someone and get like… a general gist of something big in their future. Like adultery, or pain, or falling in love.”

“Or death?” I ask.

She swallows and nods. “As you know, your grandmother’s visions can get very specific. And that’s a bit of natural style - she sees images of the future - mixed with years of honing. She can revisit her images again and again and even try and stretch them out for information.”

“So what style do I have?”

“I think yours will be more about symbolism. Like dream interpretation, kind of.” She laces her fingers and brings them to her lips, studying my face. “So even though your teacher was the one with the snakes on him, it’s probably just because you were focusing on him at the time your vision hit.

That made sense, though I wasn’t at all comforted. “So who’s going to die?”

“It might not even be anybody you know, baby girl. Or it could mean a symbolic death. Though double symbolism isn’t likely. I’m going to order pizza.” She reaches for her phone and stands again.

I gape after her and stand, following.

“What do you mean a symbolic death?”

“Like a part of you or someone dying. Like an inner child or something. Or your virtue. Maybe you are going to lose your virginity. You know, orgasm means ‘little death’ in French.” She looks at the phone and puts it to her ear. “Hello? Yes. I’d like to order for delivery.”

We don’t discuss it much more after that, other than her telling me to try not to stress about it and to pay attention to any more symbolism that might present itself to me.

Dev’s blinds are closed when I go to bed. The storm is starting to die down as I slip beneath my covers and bring up Jules’ name on my phone. I want to check in and find out the outcome of the brothers’ fight. Part of me also wants to make sure that neither of them have died in the six hours since I’ve last seen them.

“Hey,” he says, sounding blessedly alive.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

He groans and I hear him flop back on his pillows. “My brother’s a stubborn asshole. But we’re going.”

“I have no desire to go to that party, Jules.”

“Emmmmmy, you have to!” he whines.

“Why? You have other friends!” Though I don’t really consider them true friends to him. They really only go to parties with him, and they don’t like me much. Zoe and Chip. They’re in the grade above us and are usually on some drug or another. The kind of people that carry around a flask in high school.

Jules sighs dramatically. “Look. Obviously I can’t make you go. But this is a big win for me! I get to go to a party without getting shit about it from Dev. I mean the downside is that he’s going to be there, but we can avoid him. I need you there.”

I sigh just as dramatically. “Fine. But if I hate it, I’m bouncing.” Though the realization that Dev is actually going to be there kind of makes me want to go. Even though I’ll have to watch him with Claire all night.

“Of course. I’ll get Chip to drive you home if you want.”

“Ugh, no. Chip is creepy, Jules.”

“He just has a little crush on you, that’s all,” he says.

“Don’t you dare leave me alone with him, Julius LaTour.” My tone leaves no room for argument.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He’s silent for a moment. “Of course not, Em. I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to.”

I yawn. “What time are we going tomorrow?”

“Like nine. I’ll pick you up.”

I snort. “Okay Jules. I’ll see you then.”

I spend the entire next day trying to have another vision, but it doesn’t happen. The sun comes out in full force and everything is hot and muggy. Even the air is sticky. Mama has been at work all day and will be there late tonight. The bookstore is open until midnight on Saturdays and often has author or poetry readings. Mama will get a ride home from Maddox, her only employee.

By the time Jules knocks on my door I have tried everything I can think of to induce any sort of divination. I’m frustrated and exhausted.

Jules takes one look at my lackluster, zero-effort outfit of jeans and a threadbare t-shirt and says, “No.”

He holds up his hand to say ‘five minutes’ to where Chip and Zoe are waiting in Zoe’s car on the curb before pushing me back inside and leading me to my closet. He picks out a midnight blue dress and leather boots and sends me to change.

“Should I do anything to my hair too, fashion master?” I ask jokingly upon reentrance. My long, wavy hair hangs halfway down my back.

“Nah, I love your hair. Here.” He turns around from my dresser and holds out a silver moon pendant that Grandmother got me for my birthday, in honor of my name.

I pull aside my hair so he can clasp it onto me and turn around to face him. Jules is only an inch or two taller than me. “Am I acceptable now?”

He squints and takes a step back, looking me up and down. “It’ll do. Come on.”

He leads me back out to Zoe’s beat up two-door. Sometimes I think that Jules is only friends with these two because they provide him with transportation to the parties he frequents.

Chip gets out so that we can push the seat forward and slide in the back.

“Looking good, Emmy,” He says with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

I give Jules a pointed look. “Thanks, Chip.”

We pull up in front of Claire’s house five minutes later and park, one of countless cars taking up space in her big circle drive. The house hums with music and the energy of dozens of teenagers. It seems the whole school has come out tonight. Great.

I climb out of the little car, trying not to flash my underwear to any passers by. Zoe takes one look at my outfit and snorts derisively. She is tall with olive skin and a mass of black curls. Her nose and eyebrow are pierced. I’ve always suspected that she has a thing for Jules but have never said anything. I get the feeling she might curbstomp me if I did.

Chip is a little shorter than Zoe with pale skin and light brown hair. He has a smattering of freckles across his nose. I don’t find him unattractive, exactly. But his personality puts me off of him. His eyes are always rimmed in red from either cannabis or alcohol and he pretty much constantly slurs his speech.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, reaching out to push hair behind my hear.

I step away before he makes contact. “Thanks. Shall we?” I gesture to the mansion.

Jules leads the way up the driveway to the cobblestone steps. I shiver as we pass Dev’s truck parked near the house. He must have been here for a while already.

Claire’s house is nothing special. Sure, it’s opulent and grand, filled with priceless decor and marble floors, but right now it looks like a cliche. High schoolers crowd the hallways, the couches, the stairs. The furniture in the formal living room has been pushed aside and now there’s a dance floor, with a fog machine and strobe light.

Jules grasps my hand and pulls me through the throng of people. It seems he already knows that the cool kids hang out in the backyard.

Hanging lanterns are suspended from wires that crisscross the entire area, illuminating a massive pool, outdoor kitchen and hot tub. It’s scattered with people in various stages of drunkenness and undress. Like always, my eyes search out Devereaux.

He’s sitting like a king at the head of a long patio table littered with red solo cups and playing cards. His hair is styled just right to make him look like a young Jensen Ackles. Claire sits on his right, laughing and chatting with a few cheerleaders sitting near her. Brody sits on his left, looking as upset as I am to be here, if the deep scowl on his face is anything to go by.

Jules drags me to a bar that’s stocked with almost every type of liquor imaginable. A keg sits on the ground beside it and I opt for that. Getting sloppy drunk sounds like a recipe for disaster at a party like this. Beer is practically water to me.

Chip makes a noise of approval in his throat as I grab a cup and begin to fill it.

“A beer girl. I like it.”

Not only does his attention make me cringe, but we’ve been to parties together before. I always drink beer. More than likely he’s just been too messed up to notice.

I ignore him. Jules comes to stand beside me, something more potent wafting from his cup. Dev looks up and his eyes lock on us, his perfect mouth turning down.

“Good. He knows we’re here,” Jules mutters.

I sigh. “Is this whole night just going to be a power play?”

“I have to prove to him that I can handle myself.”

“So yes.” I tip my cup back and down half the beer in one gulp.

“Fill that up. Let’s go join their game.” He points to two empty seats at the other end of the patio table.

I groan but do as he says. “Jules.”

“You’re my secret weapon, my little heavyweight. You’ve got to keep me in line.” He shifts from foot to foot excitedly, like a boxer getting ready for a match.

I want to point out to him that I’m only a heavyweight because I’m not mainlining vodka lemonade, but I bite my tongue.

Chip and Zoe have already disappeared into the crowd as Jules and I make our way to the table. Claire, Dev and Brody all stop talking as we lower into seats.

“Deal us in,” Jules orders confidently.

Dev sits back and crosses his arms. Brody reluctantly tosses us some cards.

The cheerleaders scoot a little bit away from me, as if I might turn them into frogs just with my proximity. I smile to myself, liking the thought of that. I’ll have to ask Grandmother about it later.

I have to give Jules some respect. He doesn’t try and start any spiteful small talk, just plays the game and drinks, because of course it’s a drinking game.

“Hey,” he says, a few hands and a drink and a half later. “Emmy. I’m sorry about Chip.”

“Don’t stress about it. You know I can take care of myself.” I can tell he’s beginning to really feel the alcohol. He’s leaning over a little in his seat, so I lean in too so it looks like we’re exchanging secrets.

“Yeah. But he’s an ass. And really I just … I mean, he’s fun to drink with when you’re not here but … you should always be here.” His grey eyes are a little cloudy. It’s the look he gets when he’s thinking about his mother, and I know I need to derail this train of thought quickly.

“Jules,” I say, placing my hand on his and leaning in further, bringing my lips to his ear. “Sit up straight. Show your brother that you’re not a little kid. This is why we’re here.”

He jerks upright and looks across at Dev, as if he’d forgotten where we were. “Right, yeah. Thanks.”

It’s far too loud for Devereaux to have heard any of that, but he looks on with concern nonetheless.

Jules shoots him a smirk and the glassiness in his eyes fades a bit.

We keep playing for what feels like forever before Jules decides we’re done. “Let’s go inside. I have to pee and I think I’ve proven myself here.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, sure, if you can manage to stand by yourself.”

He shoots me an annoyed sideways glance. “Snippy. I’ll be fine.” He pushes up from the chair and wobbles a bit.

I rise too, putting a steadying hand on his arm.

We make our way toward the house and I feel Dev’s eyes on our backs, assessing. I pull Jules closer to me so it looks like he’s standing more upright than he is.

We navigate our way through the darkened inside with relative ease. People are either dancing or making out in dark corners. A few even seem to have gone home. It’s less crowded now than it was when we arrive. Maybe they’re all in the pool or upstairs.

I find a bathroom line for Jules and leave him to go fetch water. The kitchen is sparsely populated, with a few people leaning against the large island chatting. I find a clean red solo cup and bring it to the sink. When I turn on the faucet, instead of water, a snake slowly makes its way into the basin. It’s small and black, like the ones wrapped around Mr. peach’s legs yesterday. It hisses angrily at me. I blink a few times, my heart racing as I assure myself that it isn’t real. A moment later the snake starts to flicker and I realize I’m just staring at running water. I quickly fill up the cup and leave the room, my heart in my throat.

I was hoping when I had another vision it would give me more information, any clue as to the nature of the death about to occur, but this wasn’t helpful at all. Just startling. Like a jump-scare in a horror movie when you’re expecting some informative backstory.

As I round the corner back into the hallway I feel a hand on my waist. I look up into the twinkling eyes of Chip, whose cheesy grin is stretched across his face. He’s half in shadow and half bathed in the kitchen light and the combination makes him look grotesque. Like something out of a freakshow circus. My heart pounds, harder than it did at the sight of the snake.

“Hey beautiful,” he slurs. His breath smells like tequila.

“Hi, Chip.” I try and maneuver out of his reach but his grip on my waist tightens. A bit of water sloshes out of the cup as my fingers clench around it.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He leans in, his hot, putrid breath cascading over my neck.

I shudder. “No way in hell.” I try and push past him but he uses his larger stature to press me against the wall. “Chip!” I gasp, outrage pushing its way through my veins.

“Come on,” he murmurs. His cracked lips find my jaw. Before I know what’s happening his hand skims down my side and slips under my dress.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask, panic tinging my voice as I try and shove him off. He’s heavy though. I vaguely recall that he’s on the wrestling team. Lots of muscle.

His hand snakes up my inner thigh and I drop the cup, water splashes across the ground at my feet.

I start to call on my magic. I’m not supposed to use it on normal people but I feel like this is a special occasion. I try and summon the element of fire - maybe if I can just singe him he won’t even know what happened later - but it’s so damn hard to focus when his fingertips are skirting my panties.

And then there’s a sickening crunch and Chip is on the floor. To the side stands Devereaux with a fire in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He caught Chip on the cheekbone and Chip is holding his face, trying to stanch the blood as he stares up at Dev and I in shock.

“Get out of here. Find your ride and leave, now.” Dev’s voice is low and makes me shiver, in a good way though. It’s a huge contrast to how I felt just seconds ago.

Chip scrambles up and out, heading toward the living room, presumably to find Zoe and get the hell out.

My chest rises and falls rapidly. I take a few breaths to recenter myself as the panic fades.

Devereaux’s hand is dripping onto the floor. I point. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Without waiting for an answer I turn and start up the stairs.