by Kristin Cast
Kirk frowned. “What the hell did he say?”
Mercy put her fists on her hips. “How about you tell me what you said instead?”
“Nothin’. Really. Just locker room talk. You know.” He reached for her and she sidestepped him.
“You talked about me—about us—in the damn locker room? You mean the whole team knows our business?” Mercy felt her cheeks flame. Her anger was so intense she felt dizzy.
“Mercy. Babe. All us bros talk about our girlfriends. It’s, like, a compliment.”
“A compliment? Telling the ‘bros,’” Mercy air-quoted, “personal and private things about our relationship is only a compliment to douchebag misogynistic pigs like your father! To normal guys—decent guys—it’s a betrayal—an invasion of privacy.” She shook her head, super pissed that tears had started to leak from her eyes down her cheeks. This really wasn’t going the way she’d planned. To herself more than Kirk she said, “I’m such a fool. I thought you were different.” She cried brokenly. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She wiped at her eyes and started to storm past him, intent on touching the trees and ending the spell, but Kirk surprised her by grabbing her wrist. As he stopped her he dropped to his knees and stared up at her.
“You gotta believe me,” he begged from his knees. “I didn’t mean nothing. I promise. Just—just tell me how to do better and I will.”
Mercy looked down at him. His blue eyes were huge. His face had paled and he was truly upset. Had she overreacted? Kirk seemed genuinely sorry. She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Kirk. What you did was really bad.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to make it right—for him to be the guy she believed he was.
“Babe! Like I said, I just didn’t know. But I totally get it. I’m not gonna say shit about us again. Seriously.” He reached out for her and Mercy let him take her hand. He kissed it and smiled up at her. “You know I’m an idiot about this kind of stuff. Sorry, my witchy woman.”
Relieved, Mercy pulled her hand from his as she started toward the line of trees. All she needed to do was to touch them to close the spell and then she and Kirk could—
But before she could reach the trees Kirk had snagged her wrist and pulled her around to face him. “No, please, don’t walk away!”
Mercy meant to shake off his vise grip and touch the trees, but when she looked down at him what she saw had her frozen with shock.
He was on his knees again.
Oh, shit! He totally misunderstood!
And he was crying.
Really sobbing.
“Kirk.” She spoke as softly as possible. “It’s okay. We can talk about it.” Her eyes darted from him to the trees as she tried to shift her body to bring herself within reaching distance of one of their sticky branches.
“Mercy, I mean it! I didn’t get what I was doing. I was just happy! I wanted to tell everyone so they’d know how much you love me, and how much I love you.” On his knees, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pressed his cheek against the softness of her stomach as his sobs made his voice hitch. “Y-you know h-how much I n-need you.”
Mercy felt the beginnings of panic. She’d expected him to apologize—to have a good excuse for what he’d done—to reassure her and react like a sweet guy who’d made one stupid mistake.
She hadn’t expected him to be so clueless, and then to fall apart and cry.
Mercy tried to break the hold he had on her waist so she could get around him and be close enough to the trees so that she could close the spell, but Kirk was too big, too strong. The harder she tried to pry away from him—the tighter he clung to her.
“Okay, okay,” Mercy tried to soothe. She stopped pulling at his arms and instead stroked his sweaty hair. “I—I overreacted.” Her eyes darted from him to the trees as she tried to shift her body closer.
Through streaming tears he looked up at her. His eyes widened as he misread her worried expression.
His arms tightened around her.
“No, you can’t do this!” Tears flooded his voice with desperation. “You know how much I love you.”
“Kirk! It’s okay. I forgive you!”
“I need you! You can’t leave me.”
“Kirk, shh.” Mercy pressed her fingers against his lips, physically trying to dam the tide of his words. “It’s hard for me to listen to you if you won’t let me go.”
Abruptly, he released her. She staggered backward until she touched the trees and surreptitiously stroked their sharp leaves. They quivered once more in response, and then stilled. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to Kirk.
He’d remained on his knees, hands held out as if he beseeched her blessing while he continued to snot cry. “H-how do I fix this? Want me to kick Jax’s ass?”
Mercy shook her head, ready to tell him—not for the first time—that he couldn’t blame other people for his bad choices, when Jarod’s sarcastic voice came from behind Kirk.
“Dude! Are you seriously crying?”
“Right?!” Derek, the varsity center, a big, meaty kid who looked like a chubby Hitler youth, mimicked Kirk as he scrunched up his fat pink face and pretended to cry. “Babe! Don’t leave me! Babe, I love you!”
Kirk rocketed to his feet and whirled around. The entire varsity football squad, and cheerleaders, had poured through the break in the fence and were laughing at Kirk. Jax and Hunter stood a little apart from the group, speechlessly staring from Mercy to Kirk.
Mercy narrowed her eyes and glared at the gawking group. She knew her words were hypocritical. It was because of her spell that the trees had amplified everything she and Kirk had said and broadcasted it to the varsity football team and the cheerleading squad, but she was too panicked to think of anything else to say—anything else to do. “Oh, shut up! This is between Kirk and me, and none of your damn business.”
“Uh, if it wasn’t our business the two of you shouldn’t have been yelling like that,” quipped Jarod.
“Yeah, you were super loud. We heard everything,” added Derek.
Kirk wiped violently at his face. His shoulders were slumped. He fisted his hands by his sides and for a moment Mercy thought he was going to stand up for her—stand up for them—and take on the mocking team. But his body language changed before he faced her. He put a hand on his hip and slouched like he was oh, so cool. Then he turned to look at her and his cute, full lips—the lips she’d kissed so, so many times—twisted in a sneer.
“Well, shit. I guess the cat’s outta the bag now—or I should say the pussy’s out of the bag.” His laughter was cruel, and this time Jarod and Derek joined in, laughing with not at him. His voice was hard and cold with sarcasm. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’ to get more than a bj, though, right?”
Mercy felt frozen. She swallowed hard before she could form words. “Kirk? What are you saying?”
Hunter took a step toward Mercy. Her blue/green eyes looked old and tired as she spoke low in a tight voice. “Come on, Mag. Let’s go home.”
Kirk sneered at Hunter. “For once I agree with the dyke. Go home, Mag.” He made her nickname sound like an insult.
Mercy couldn’t move. The coldness inside had frozen her to the earth. “But you love me.” Even to her ears she sounded like a stupid little girl.
Kirk laughed. “Love you? It was fun for a while, but you’re too damn much work.” He jerked his chin at the gleefully watching team. “Ask any of them. After what they just heard they know it’s true, too.” Then his brows lifted into his hairline. “Wait, they shouldn’t have been able to hear us. It was you, wasn’t it? You did some witch shit—like your sister did at your house the other night. You set me up, you bitch!”
Mercy stared at Kirk—at the cruel stranger he’d become. No, he’s always been this person. I just chose not to see it.
Hunter ignored Kirk. She gestured at her sister and repeated, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Thawed by her twin’s voice, Mercy nodded jerkily, and started to
make a wide circle around Kirk. But he stepped up to block her.
“What’s wrong? Don’t want your precious freak of a twin to hear the truth?” He shot Hunter a mean look over his shoulder before he continued. “Too late. She already knows about the bj. But her bff probably didn’t tell her the rest—how you humped my hand like the bitch in heat you are. You came all over me, you slut.”
Shocked gasps erupted from the cheerleaders to mix with uncomfortable chuckles from the football players.
Mercy couldn’t move again. Her entire body was flushed with heat and even though her whole being was screaming run she kept staring at Kirk like she’d never seen him before.
Then Hunter was there, stepping between them. She seemed to grow in height as she faced down the quarterback.
Twenty-seven
Rage surged through Hunter so hot and deep that her breath sloshed out in soupy gasps. Part of her yearned to relax into the warm embrace her anger promised. In its arms, there were no consequences, no remorse, no sad sisters made even more depressed by betrayal. In fury’s grasp, there was nothing but revenge. Hunter clenched her fists. Her jagged nails dug into her scabbed palm. Kirk Whitfield was over, canceled. She’d take away everything he cared about.
Beside her, Mercy slapped her palm over her mouth and whimpered.
Hunter sucked in a breath and fought through the heat clawing up her throat ready to fork her tongue, weaponize it, use it to tear the star quarterback apart. Had it not been for her sister and the despair that squeaked past her lips, Hunter would have let the rage consume her.
Her hands relaxed as each inhale of cool spring air quelled her roiling insides. The corner of Hunter’s lips quirked and a chuckle scratched at the back of her throat as she stared at the blustering windbag. All machismo, no substance. She would have pitied him had he not just trampled her sister.
Kirk lifted his chin and the shocked murmurs of their peers ceased. “What are you laughing at, dyke?”
Hunter held out her hand and motioned for Jax to stay back as he surged forward and Mercy stiffened.
Most people went their whole lives without a good showdown, with only the fantasy of burning their ex or quitting their job to fuel them from one unsatisfying moment to the next. Hunter had only had to wait sixteen years.
“You’re not worth the trouble it would take to hit you.” She untethered her smile and let it roll across her lips as she recited the Yates quote from memory. “You’re not worth the powder it would take to blow you up. You’re an empty, empty, hollow shell of a man.”
Right now, her library card and every book she’d ever checked out were worth their weight in gold.
Kirk rushed forward and Jax charged out in front of Hunter. This time, she didn’t stop him from intervening. She wrapped her arm around her sister and guided her from the wall of trees and the uniformed spectators chanting for a fight. Jax could hold his own and, with the number of parents and coaches off in the parking lot starting the traditional after-practice tailgating extravaganza, a fight wouldn’t get very far.
As they neared the bleachers, Mercy pushed away from Hunter. “I just”—she hiccupped between cries—“want to—be alone.”
Hunter twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “I don’t think you did anything wrong, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not about what you think, Hunter.” Mercy’s lip quivered as she swiped the back of her hand across her tear-streaked cheeks. “You couldn’t possibly understand what this feels like. I need to be alone right now.” She slipped into the shadows under the bleachers, her feet making sharp scuff scuff noises as she jogged the length of the metal steps.
Choked sobs echoed through the shadows and filled the space between the sisters. Like caustic fumes, they twisted Hunter’s insides. After everything they’d been through, could Mercy handle another blow?
Hunter ran under the bleachers. “Mag! Wait!” she called as Mercy plunged into the sunlight on the other side. The last time she’d given Mercy space to process her grief, her sister had been nearly catatonic. Hunter charged forward, faster. “This isn’t your fault!” she shouted into the shadows. This was all Kirk. Mercy had done nothing wrong. If only Kirk had been better, had actually been the guy Mercy thought he was.
Hunter’s shoelace had come untied. With each rushed step, the plastic ends of the ties struck her shin.
But Hunter had warned her. So had Emily and Jax. Even Xena had made her disapproval known. Why hadn’t Mercy listened? Did she not trust her friends and family? Did she not care for them more than she cared for Kirk? The questions stoked the graying coals in Hunter’s belly.
Since the beginning of their relationship, Mercy had put Kirk first. You were so powerful tonight, Kirk. So perfect. This couldn’t have happened without you. The words Mercy had spoken after the grief spell spit fuel on Hunter’s anger. She coughed as heat surged through her chest, up her throat.
You’re jealous that someone loves me and no one loves you.
Hunter shielded her eyes as she emerged from the bleachers. Until Mercy apologized for placing Kirk above everyone else, she could run off alone.
Hunter stepped on her untied shoelace. She tripped forward and caught herself before she faceplanted in the gravel. She shuffled over to the shade of the now-closed snack hut and crouched down to tie her shoe. Her stomach churned as she crossed one shoelace over the other and tugged so hard she nearly ripped them from their holes.
Maybe this time Hunter would let her rage swallow her. A dying star spitting fire into the cosmos. She’d go back to Kirk and wouldn’t choose the high road. She’d choose the low road, the same road he’d just torn down, slamming into everything he could on his way to feeling like a big man. Hunter double knotted her laces and brushed her hands on her shorts as she stood. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d find Kirk and—
A man’s wracking cough pulled Hunter’s attention from the molten lava pooling in her gut. Sheriff Dearborn buried his face into the crook of his arm and leaned against the lamppost on the other side of the snack hut, a plate of nachos scattered in the gravel around his feet.
Hunter chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted to leave, wanted to let the volcano of anger burbling in her stomach erupt all over Kirk and his jock friends.
Another bout of wet coughs. Sheriff Dearborn spit a phlegm ball onto his nachos, wiped his mouth, and sagged against the metal post. Hunter wrinkled her nose. The sheriff wasn’t the youngest guy, but it wasn’t her responsibility to help someone who had a cold. She squinted back at the packed parking lot. She didn’t think she had it in her to fix another situation. Hunter exhaled and half expected smoke to billow from her parted lips.
He gripped his chest and lurched forward. His sunglasses slipped from his ears as he sucked in breaths between more throat-shredding coughs.
Concern doused the anger roiling within Hunter. She ran over to the sheriff and caught him as he pitched farther forward. Spittle dangled from his chin and she averted her eyes and helped him up. “You … okay … Sheriff?” she asked between grunts as he used her shoulders as crutches and righted himself.
“Fine. Fine.” His voice had the same dry coarseness as the gravel beneath her feet. “Damn chips must’ve gotten me.”
Hunter plucked his sunglasses from the gravel and wiped the dusty lenses with the bottom of her shirt. “Mercy nearly choked on a tortilla chip once. Now she’ll only eat Lay’s.” She handed him the sunglasses. Her breath caught in her throat.
His left eye was completely clouded over. A fresh page in a new notebook.
“Your eye…”
He snatched the glasses from her hand and thrust them back onto his face. “Allergies is all,” he said with a sniffle.
Hunter’s fingertips itched. She slid her hand into the pocket of her slouchy knit cardigan and pressed her hand against her tarot deck. Power sizzled through her palm.
A star around his eye …
Sunlight glinted off
the points of Sheriff Dearborn’s star-shaped badge.
… and on his chest.
Hunter’s throat tightened. She clutched her amulet and fed off the strength from the symbol of her god. Her insides warmed. But not with the hungry fire of rage or the slow burn of anger. Her fingertips found the smooth moonstone pressed into her symbol of Tyr. Her god was with her now, drawing down the magic of the moon and whispering affirmations to the powerful gift entangled in the blood of the Goode women.
Sheriff Dearborn slipped his fingers under his sunglasses and rubbed his clouded eye. “Give the other one of you my regards, Bright Eyes,” he said and rushed off in the direction of the parking lot.
Hunter’s hands shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed her sister’s number.
Bright Eyes?
Hunter pushed away the question when Mercy answered on the second ring. “Meet me at the car, Mag. I found him,” Hunter blurted before her sister had a chance to speak. “I found Polyphemus.”
Mercy sucked in a breath. “Are you safe? Who is it?”
A cold pang of guilt flashed through Hunter’s chest as she ran to meet Mercy. Mag did care about her. Hunter needed to stop being such a bad sister, such a bad friend. Her ponytail brushed her shoulder blades as she shook her head and with it, shook away the conscience threatening to derail her focus.
Hunter hid her mouth behind her hand as she wove through hot dog–eating townspeople milling about the parking lot. “It’s the sheriff! And now that we know, we can put a stop to all of this and send him back where he belongs.”
Power flared within her veins and the scabs crusted against Hunter’s palm ached. She didn’t know how this would end, but she knew it would be bloody.
Twenty-eight
“And Jax is meeting us at poor Emily kitten’s house?” Xena’s question broke the silent ride across town.
“Yeah, Xena.” Hunter glanced in the rearview mirror at the cat person, who kept looking nervously out the windows. “He took a shower while we were getting the ritual stuff together. He’s bringing his offering, a dove feather from his father’s collection.”
