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knew he and Ethan were very close in age, and with their mutual gaming obsession, they had a lot in common. So why did her little brother seem so much younger than the other boy? “Look, I’ll play it tomorrow, okay Hunt?”
    “You’re lying, you always lie!” he said. He seemed awfully upset, and seeing Hunter get so emotional made Cassie defensive, against her better judgment.
    “What’s the big deal, getting all worked up over it?” said Cassie, finally getting out of bed and stretching. “It’s just a stupid—”
    She felt a sharp pain against her forehead, and saw the game case lying at her feet; it took her a moment to realize that Hunter had thrown the Car Fights 3 case at her face.
    “Hunter!” she yelled, putting her hand over her right eyebrow where the corner of the box had hit her—she was definitely going to have a mark. Shock warred with outrage; he hadn’t thrown anything at her since they were both little. “Are you psycho!? You, you can’t throw things like that!”
    “You suck, skankface!” he bellowed, then ran out of the room. She heard the door to the den slam, hard, and knew he was going to bury himself in games for the entire day, or at least until Annette stopped him. He wasn’t going to be playing Car Fights 3 though, because that game was still lying at her feet.
    She picked up the case, frowning and feeling guilty. When was the last time she had played with him, anyway? She had no idea when Car Fights 2 had come out.
    She realized with a stab of regret that lately, she’d been treating Ethan far more like a little brother than her actual little brother; Hunter, she just ignored more often than not. To be fair, part of it was because she wanted to protect him—she didn’t want him getting mixed up in any of the demonic nonsense that now dominated her life—but a lot of it was also pure selfishness. She just hadn’t wanted to be bothered.
    Still, even if she was somewhat in the wrong, throwing things at her head was not an acceptable response, and she had to tell her parents about it. When she went to the bathroom to wash up, she checked her forehead in the mirror. Yup; she had a small, but distinct, red mark where the case had hit her.
    When she came into the living room, Annette was reading on the couch. “There’s coffee left in the pot for you,” her mother said nonchalantly.
    Cassie looked to the mantelpiece, where, next to pictures of her and Hunter as small children, an enchanted item that kept her parents from worrying about her rested. No one had so much as blinked when Cassie put the pretty conch shell on the shelf, but as long as it was in the house, her mother and father assumed she was okay and didn’t question her staying out late. Sam had made it for her, using a drop of her blood and help from a witch named Georgette that Cassie had never met, and it was the most subtle spell she’d ever seen him create. It seemed somehow much less sinister than having Miri hypnotize her parents into submission, even though it basically accomplished the same thing. Putting aside coffee for her was about as much as Annette seemed to think about Cassie lately.
    “Mom, Hunter just did something horrible,” she said, sitting on the couch next to her mother. “He got mad and threw a game case at my head.”
    Annette didn’t look up from her book. “That’s nice.”
    Cassie shook her mother’s arm. “Mom, look at me! He gave me a mark!” she said, pointing to her face. Annette barely glanced at her.
    “Well, that wasn’t very nice of him,” she said, returning to her book.
    Cassie bit her lip; maybe Annette wasn’t worried about Cassie, but she should still be worried about Hunter. Physically hurting someone was the kind of thing he needed to be disciplined for, at the very least. “Mom, aren’t you worried about Hunter? What if he’s acting out, and hurts someone in school or something?”
    Annette turned a page, her expression mild. “Don’t worry, your