Ambrose hadn’t chosen to be trapped here. I hadn’t chosen to lose my parents. But nobody gets to choose their family.
Until you grew up. Then you could choose each other.
Ambrose gave a small, resigned sigh. “You be sure for both of us, then.”
Our aunts were calling for us, their voices united. I’d let go of him soon, and we would go have dinner together. Right now, I held on.
“I can do that. Do you know what else I’m sure of?”
“Many things, I suspect,” murmured Ambrose. “Tell me about them. I’m here for you.”
“You asked what kind of witch I’d make,” I said. “Well, I’ll tell you what kind I’ll be. My own kind of witch.”
Ambrose didn’t answer in words. Instead he looped an arm around my shoulders and kissed my hair. The kiss was light as rain, light as his laughter: sparkling and falling and disappearing, but always coming back again.
Lost, lost, lost, the leaves in the wild woods had whispered to me yesterday, but the woods were wrong. So was anyone who told me I had to choose between love and magic. I didn’t plan on losing either.
Perhaps the world of witches and the mortal world weren’t as far apart as I feared. Nobody had actually told me I couldn’t have mortal friends and a mortal boyfriend. If my two worlds were even further apart than I feared, I would drag them closer. If I truly had to go to the Academy of Unseen Arts, I would see who I met there, see what I learned, see if there was anything or anyone there to love. I would still love and help Harvey and Roz and Susie, by magical or mortal means. I would still be part of my family, who would never be a traditional family and always be mine. I would trust Ms. Wardwell, who had read to me of a mortal who knew the truth of a witch, and loved her. I could be sure for all of us. I would fix whatever needed fixing.
Whatever I became, I would be a Spellman witch, fighting on Spellman ground.
I was not lost. I was home.
Don’t miss this exclusive peek at the second original Chilling Adventures of Sabrina novel, Daughter of Chaos!
Chapter One
Never get caught crying in school. It shows weakness.
This is especially true in a school for witches. So, on the evening when ghosts came to destroy my town, I sat on the balcony overlooking the stone steps and the statue of Satan at the Academy of Unseen Arts, and fought back tears.
It would be fine, I told myself sternly. My family and I had a plan. We would protect the mortals of Greendale. We had a place to keep them safe.
Except the mortal I loved best wouldn’t come. He didn’t trust me to keep him safe. And I didn’t blame him.
I’d loved Harvey all my life, ever since he and I and our best friends, Roz and Susie, met on our very first day of school. He was the tallest, sweetest boy in class and I was the smallest, bossiest girl. All my life, I’d kept a secret from him. I’d never told him that I was a witch. That my aunts and my cousin, my family, were all witches. And that one day I was expected to sign my soul away to Satan and leave Harvey forever.
How do you ask a boy to forgive you for not telling him you’re a witch? When’s the best time to tell somebody that?
I’ll tell you one thing: the best time is definitely not after you resurrected his dead brother, brought his brother back wrong, and forced him to put down all that remained of the sibling he adored.
I’d thought I could bring Tommy back to life for Harvey. I’d meant my love and my magic to be a gift. Maybe I’d even thought it was a good way to show Harvey what I was. If I could do this for him, he’d understand what magic meant. See? No mortal could do this. See how a witch loves you.
I’d shown Harvey all right.
I’d shown him a witch’s love is disaster. A witch’s love is ruin.
I was scared of what might happen to Harvey. I was scared he’d never forgive me. And I was scared of what I might have to do to protect the town that was my home. I sat on the stone balcony and hugged my knees, curled up in a tight ball to stop myself from shaking. I couldn’t let myself tremble or falter. I had to be in control.
I was here on a mission.
Just then, the red lanterns in the hall of my magical school fell on the dark hair of a boy running up the stone steps to the balcony. He saw me on the floor and dropped the book under his arm. The book was bound in human skin, with a single eyeball set in the cover. The eyeball rolled mournfully up at Nick from the dust, but Nick ignored it. He was walking toward me, his expression focused.
“Sabrina! What are you doing here?”
I swallowed. Nick’s dark gaze flickered, tracking the movement. He had a striking face, but it was frequently hard to read. He once offered to be my shoulder to cry on. I wasn’t sure how he’d react if I actually took him up on that.
“I was looking for you.”
“On the floor?” Nick asked. “Did you think someone had dropped me and I’d rolled away under the furniture?”
Quietly, I said: “I’m having a hard time.”
I didn’t know how to tell Nick about heartbreak. Nick Scratch was the one friend I’d made in the Academy of Unseen Arts. He’d also asked me out, practically on the first day we met, and when I said I had a boyfriend he’d said, “You can have two boyfriends.”
That was obviously out of the question, and Nick was clearly a playboy. If he thought a girl could have two boyfriends, who knew how many girlfriends he had? Maybe Nick had twenty girlfriends. Maybe he had a hundred.
He’d taken rejection with an easy grace that made me like him. I figured Nick Scratch wasn’t the type to break his heart over a girl. He might be a playboy, but he was a playboy interested in the same spells and books I was fascinated by, and he was one of the few students who welcomed me at the Academy. He’d listened when I had problems, offered advice, and risked getting into trouble for me.
So he was my new, oddly flirty, unsettlingly handsome friend. But I hadn’t known him that long, and I didn’t know if I could trust him.
Now I sat hugging my knees, trying not to cry, and feeling desperate. I didn’t know if it was safe to be desperate around Nick.
I heard Nick take a step closer. His footfall rang on the stone, echoing up to the shadowed ceiling of our school.
“What’s this about, Sabrina?”
“I need help,” I whispered. “And I don’t know who else to ask.”
When I looked up, Nick was kneeling by my side. His gaze on me was intent, as though I were a riddle he was trying to work out.
“Ask me,” he said. “See what I do.”
© 2019 Archie Comic Publications, Inc.
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First printing 2019
© 2019 Archie Comic Publications, Inc.
Cover art by Adams Carvalho
e-ISBN 978-1-338-32605-5
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Season of the Witch Page 19
