see anything. “—too long.” He glances back at me, then sheepishly away. “Look, I have to . . . hunt. Will you wait?” “I’ll go with you,” I say. “Crowley,” he says, “you will not.” I jump up. “Can it be anything?” “What?” “Anything with blood, yeah?” “What?” he says again. “Yeah.” I take his hand. “Call something. There must be hunting spells.” “There are,” he says, lowering his eyebrows. “But they only work at close range.” I squeeze his hand. He takes out his wand, watching me like I’m being an extra-special idiot. “Doe!” he says, pointing his wand into the trees. “A deer!” My magic shimmers
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