These Witches Don't Burn

by Isabel Sterling

  “Nice ink. Is that new?” I gesture to the black triangle on his wrist. “I don’t remember seeing it in class.”

  “What? Oh, yeah. It’s an early graduation gift to myself.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Someone adds more wood to the fire, and sparks flare into the sky. Benton steps back, shielding his eyes. Reluctantly, I back away, too. Nothing compares to the gentle lick of flames across my skin, to the rush of power that comes from contact, but this isn’t the place. As an Elemental, fire won’t burn my skin, but I don’t want to attract any questions if my clothes burn and I do not.

  Benton runs a finger along the triangle on his wrist. “It’s delta. The symbol for change. It’s the only thing in life you can really count on.”

  I nod and fall silent. Benton doesn’t continue, and I don’t push. Instead, I lose myself to the fire’s dance. Another shot of sparks dots the sky. Chills tingle down my back. If only I were alone, the things I could do with a fire this size . . .

  Benton sidles closer to me, and something in his posture draws my attention away from the flames. I have to crane my neck to meet his stare. “How are you, really?” he asks. “I know things have been rough since you and Veronica split.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans, but he’s standing well inside my personal bubble.

  “Rough’s one word for it.” The mention of Veronica is a shot of poison right to the heart. I want to be home, in bed, where I can hide the tears pressing behind my eyes. Benton should know better. He was there. He saw the shouting match outside our bus back to Salem. He and Gemma comforted me on the horribly awkward ride home.

  “I’m sorry.” Benton tugs at his hair, which makes it stand on end for a moment before it falls. “Um, so I was thinking. I know the timing sucks, but . . . do you want to get coffee sometime?”

  I stare at my friend. Unblinking. Confused. Slightly horrified.

  “I totally get if it’s too soon. I do. And normally I wouldn’t ask someone out this soon after a breakup, but I’m leaving for Boston in August, and I didn’t want to leave without trying, and—”

  “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

  Benton falters. This clearly isn’t going the way he rehearsed it in his head. “Um . . . yes?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re funny. And kind. And smart. And—”

  “And a huge lesbian,” I add before this can get any more awkward. “I thought you knew that.”

  Benton stares at his shoes. “I did. I do.”

  “So, what?” I ask, fury and betrayal rising from deep in my gut. “Did you think you could turn me straight?”

  “No! No, of course not.” He blows out a breath and laces his hands on top of his head. “I feel like such an asshole right now.”

  The tension in my chest loosens. A little. “Let’s pretend this never happened.” I hold out a hand. “Friends?”

  “Friends.” Benton shakes my hand, but his forehead crinkles. “I don’t get why Savannah told me to ask you out. She said you were bisexual. She even said you had a crush on me.”

  I don’t hear whatever he says next. Savannah. That’s her name. What’s-Her-Face from the store this afternoon. I grab Benton’s arm. “Savannah told you? When?”

  Benton glances at the place where my fingers circle his bare skin. I let go. “Like ten minutes ago.” He kicks at a pebble on the ground, sending it skittering into the fire. “This is so messed up.”

  “No kidding.” I’m already scanning the crowd for her expanse of dark curls. “Where was she when she told you?”

  “Over there.” He gestures toward the other side of the clearing, across a throng of writhing bodies.

  “Great, thanks.” I take off toward the swell of dancers moving their hips to yet another wordless song with pounding bass. The crackle of fire is loud in my ears, but familiar laughter breaks through. My hands ball into fists.

  “Where are you going?” Benton’s words chase after me.

  “To find Veronica.” And end this.

  * * *

  • • •

  The field around the bonfire is packed tight with seniors who are going to be painfully hungover for their graduation tomorrow. I weave through their gyrating bodies, careful to dodge the cups of beer. I’m going to kill Veronica when I find her. She’s lucky it’s against Council law to attack another witch.

  I’m almost to the back of the crowd when I hear her voice, low and sharp as she speaks to Savannah. I squeeze past the edge of the crowd and spot them.

  Savannah leans against a tree and reaches for Veronica’s hand. “Come on, Ronnie,” she soothes. “After what she did to you? She deserved worse.”

  Veronica hisses something in response, but I can’t make out her words.

  My throat closes, and I see red. I am fire—pure passion and perfect aggression. All the frustrations from the shop today crackle inside, ready for a fight. Savannah sees me first. A smug look pulls at her purple lips, the color bold and sophisticated against her skin tone. Veronica turns, eyes flashing in the moonlight. She wipes her face free of expression, settles on her perfect mask.

  Just seeing her, watching her as she watches me, makes my skin flush hot. I wish, not for the first time since we broke up, that I could forget how good it feels when her body is pressed against mine.

  “What the hell is your problem, Veronica?”

  Veronica drains her cup and passes it to Savannah. “Could you grab me another drink? I think Hannah needs a word.” She stares at me the whole time she speaks, like she’s watching to see how mad I am, to see how far she can push until I lose all sense of myself.

  Times like this I can’t believe we ever dated.

  Savannah glances between us, the victory vanishing from her eyes. She takes Veronica’s cup and stalks off toward the kegs.

  Veronica raises a brow in mock concern when her friend is out of earshot. “Is something wrong? You look a little pale.”

  “You know exactly what you did.”

  She tilts her head. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Okay, fine, you had your little Reg friend do it.” I snort when she still looks confused. She’s actually going to make me say it. “She told Benton to ask me out. Lied and said I’m bisexual to convince him to do it.”

  Veronica examines her manicure. “There’s nothing wrong with being bi, Hannah.”

  “I never said there was. But I’m not bi. You had no right to lie about that.” My whole body shakes as I stifle the screams bubbling up inside. But Veronica just stands there, smug. “Why are you doing this? What could you possibly gain from making my life miserable?”

  She glances up, and I swear she looks sorry. Almost. “I don’t want you to be miserable.” Veronica peers out over the crowd of dancing teens. “But you’re a cute girl. You have to learn to deal with guys coming on to you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Veronica steps closer until she’s towering over me. “Isn’t being single the worst?”

  And there it is. Dangling in the air between us.

  A humorless laugh pushes through my chest. “Is that it then? You’ll make single life so miserable that I’ll run back to you?”

  “You and I were good together, Hannah.” She brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and trails her fingers down my neck, my arm, raising goose bumps all the way to my wrist. Which is not helping. “It doesn’t have to be over between us.” She wraps her arm around my waist, pulling me forward until our bodies are flush.

  My skin burns, and I’m tingling all over.

  Until I recognize her touch, her possessiveness, as the same controlling bullshit that ended us in the first place.

  I push Veronica away, stepping back until the cool air swirls around me. “Don’t. Just don’t. This is your fault, and you know it.” I reach into my p
ocket and grip the keys resting there. I need to find Gemma and get the hell out of here.

  Veronica glares at me. “Rewrite our history all you want, but you broke up with me.”

  “Like you gave me a choice! What did you expect me to do? Go on like everything was normal? Pretend New York never happened?”

  “Yes! It was one bad weekend, Hannah. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.” She’s close now, shouting inches from my face. Heads turn in our direction. Judging glances. Curious stares.

  “I don’t want to fight about this every time I see you.” My voice is hardly more than a whisper, but I know she can hear me. The air between us tells me she’s barely breathing. “I want to move on with my life.”

  “Fine.” The word lands like a slap to the face. “Take responsibility for the breakup and this stops.”

  “Like hell.”

  Veronica glowers at me. She starts to say more, but a piercing scream splits the night.

  The music stops. Someone giggles until they’re told to hush. I spare a glance for Veronica and then race toward the source of the scream. Our classmates may need another shout to pinpoint the location, but the wind carries the panic, and the sounds of stifled sobs, right to me.

  Please don’t let it be Gemma.

  Someone falls in step behind me. I glance back, and Veronica is on my heels. We’re alone in our chase. For now.

  The energy in the air grows oppressive. We’re close. Really close. There’s a whimper just ahead, and I rush forward through a cluster of trees and—

  “Son of a . . .” I trail off as Veronica stumbles to a stop beside me. The scene before us is like something out of a bad horror film. Fire flickers a few yards away, but what captures my attention is the girl on the ground.

  Covered in blood.

  3

  IT TAKES ME A second longer than Veronica to recognize the blood-soaked girl.

  “Savannah.” Veronica rushes forward and drops to her knees beside her wide-eyed friend. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Savannah’s voice breaks, and she wipes at the tears on her face with one hand, holding the other gingerly across her chest. “I saw another fire, so I came to see who was partying over here. But then I slipped . . .”

  We glance behind us at said fire. It’s not a bonfire, not like the one I left Benton standing beside. This looks more like someone carved a circle into the earth, maybe six or seven feet across, and set it ablaze.

  “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” Veronica says, but she looks at me like she thinks the opposite. The air is thick with malice. The fire burning behind us is vicious and hungry. Even the earth—usually a calm and steady element—feels shaken.

  Something wicked happened here.

  Veronica turns back to Savannah. “Where’s the blood coming from? Where are you hurt?”

  “It’s not . . .” Savannah loses her voice to tears. I wait, worry clawing at my skin. “It’s not mine.” She looks up, and my gaze follows.

  The mangled remains of a raccoon swing from a noose above us. A red slash forms a gruesome smile across its stomach, spilling flesh and blood to the ground. Meatier bits stick to its broken ribs and dangle suspended in the air. A piece slips free and lands beside Savannah. My stomach clenches. Bile burns my throat, and I swallow to keep from getting sick.

  A hand touches my back, and I flinch away.

  Veronica scowls. “It’s me. Relax.”

  “Relax? She is covered in blood. And god knows what else.” I retch and walk farther away from Savannah, toward the flickering fire. My heart aches for the poor creature. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “No kidding,” Veronica snaps, but then she stops short and reaches for me. “Look.”

  I follow her pointed finger to the flames. “I know. I saw the fire. I’m not completely oblivious.”

  “Then shut up and really look.”

  Gasoline and wood smoke—and not a small amount of panic—choke the air from my lungs when I finally do as she says.

  That’s not a circle carved into the earth and set aflame.

  It’s a pentacle.

  My hands shake, and I stumble away from the fire. A pentacle near a blood sacrifice means one of two things, and neither is particularly great. Either a Reg is dabbling in dangerous magic . . .

  Or there’s a Blood Witch in Salem.

  “Do you think she followed us?” I ask, keeping my voice low so Savannah won’t hear, but I can’t bury the fear. The panic. If this isn’t a Reg prank—please, please let it be a Reg prank—then it has to be a Blood Witch.

  Of the three Witch Clans, Blood Witches are the only ones who use animal sacrifices in their magic. And they don’t have a good reputation for respecting human life—Reg or Clan.

  On reflex, my fingers rub against my jaw. I can almost feel the long-healed bruise there. The cut on my skin. The—

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Veronica pulls my hand from my face. “She has no idea where we live. This isn’t her. Come on, let’s get this cleaned up.” She releases me and rushes back to Savannah’s side. “Can you stand, sweetie? We need to get out of here.”

  Sweetie? Are Veronica and Savannah— I push the thought away. I have more pressing concerns right now than whether or not my ex is hooking up with one of the hottest girls in Massachusetts.

  “I think so.” Savannah reaches for Veronica’s outstretched hand. “But my wrist . . . I think it’s broken.”

  Branches snap in the distance. Someone calls my name. A second later, Gemma and Nolan spill into the small clearing, followed by a few of Nolan’s teammates.

  “Oh, thank god, there you are.” Gemma rushes over and flings her arms around me. “When I couldn’t find you by the bonfire, I thought for sure—” Her voice dies when she sees Veronica supporting Savannah’s weight. “What’s going on here?” She looks up and gasps. “And what the hell is that?”

  Nolan steps forward and slips in the puddle of blood. A string of muttered curses fills the tense air as he wipes his previously pristine Adidas on the grass. Behind us, the crowd grows as classmates follow the soccer team into the clearing.

  “Ha-ha, very funny.” Nolan sounds anything but amused as he scans the tipsy group behind him. “You got us. Joke’s over.”

  A murmur works through the crowd, but no one responds.

  Something violent flashes through Nolan’s eyes. “I’m not kidding, assholes. Clean this up. Prank’s over.” When no one answers, he tries another angle. He plasters on his most charming smile and approaches Savannah. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

  Savannah eats it right up.

  “I saw the fire and thought someone set up a quieter party. I didn’t see the blood until it was too late.” She cradles her injured arm carefully against her chest.

  “Did you see anything else?”

  To my surprise, Savannah nods. “I saw someone running away.”

  Relief washes over me. “Was it someone from school?” If a Blood Witch did this—if she were here—there’s no way they’d stick around long enough for a Reg to spot them. This has to be a prank. A cruel—and super gross—prank.

  But Savannah shakes her head, puncturing my sense of surety. “I didn’t see their face. They were wearing a hoodie.”

  At that, Nolan circles the crowd, moving along the edge of the burning pentacle. “All right, which of you assholes tried to ruin my bonfire?” He stops in front of Evan, who’s wearing a black hoodie and even thicker eyeliner than he had on in the store. “Looks like we’ve found our witch. Shall we break out the gallows?”

  Nolan’s teammates laugh, but I flinch at his words. At their meaning. Though no Elementals died in Salem’s witch trails, a few Caster Witches perished alongside the accused Regs. Nolan’s cruel smile makes me want to hit something. Preferably him.

 
; Gemma sidles closer to me and makes a face. “I can’t believe I made out with that asshat, like, five minutes ago.”

  “So much for your summer fling,” I say, casting her an apologetic look.

  Nolan steps closer to Evan, sizing him up. “What’s the matter? No spells to make you disappear?”

  “Back off, Abbott. I didn’t do anything.” Evan shoves Nolan and separates himself from the crowd of soccer players gathering around him.

  Nolan looks to his teammates and grins. “Not until you clean up your mess.”

  “Screw you.” The fire in front of Evan casts a strange glow on his face. He curls his hands into fists like he’s ready for a fight. Like he’s been hoping for one all along.

  There is no version of this story that ends well. I need to get out of here. Now. I turn to Gemma, but she’s not there. Dammit, Gem. Where are you? I push through the crowd and find her ending a call on her phone.

  “We gotta go.” I reach for her arm, but her hand flies to her mouth. There’s a deep thwack, the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with someone’s face.

  I turn as Nolan stumbles back against a tree, touching his lips. His fingers come away with blood. He lunges forward, catching Evan around the waist.

  The boys hit the ground and roll, first Nolan on top, then Evan. Fists fly. Half the soccer team joins the fray, some pulling the guys apart, others adding their fists to the fight. They roll down the small incline toward us, heading right for the—

  “Keep them away from the fire!” I rush to the pentacle, pushing frozen onlookers out of the way, and kick dirt over the blaze.

  Veronica falls to her knees beside me, using a sweater to pat at the flames, but the fire is dying faster than it should. I glare at her. Even if she doesn’t care about getting in trouble with our high priestess, even if she thinks no one in our coven will ever find out, this place is crawling with Regs. If anyone saw her using magic to put out the flames, it could spark a repeat of our town’s most infamous history. Witch Hunters may be a thing of the past, but it’s not a past I’m eager to repeat.