These Witches Don't Burn

by Isabel Sterling

  “My mom works at the university. She’s teaching summer sessions this year.”

  “Really? My dad just transferred to Salem State, too. He teaches history. Or he will once classes start this fall.”

  “Is that why they made you move for your senior year?” I can’t imagine having to leave my friends. An unexpected urge to reach across the table and hold her hand swells within me.

  Morgan doesn’t respond for what feels like forever, and I wish I could take back my question or say something funny to make her laugh. After a long sip of her lemonade, she finally meets my eye. “I don’t love that we had to move. Dad gave us practically no warning. I left my friends and my dance academy back in Duluth.”

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

  “But . . .” Morgan stares at her cup, sneaking a glance at me before she continues. “Moving here was also an easy way to cut ties with an ex who didn’t want things to be over.”

  “Why do I get the feeling Gemma spilled about my break-up?” My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. It’s probably said best friend, already desperate for details.

  “Probably because she did, but I totally get it. If I hadn’t left Minnesota, our summers might have looked very similar.” Morgan reaches out and rests her fingers against mine, her movements cautious, yet so much braver than mine. “I have to say, I prefer this version. I could use a fresh start.”

  My skin tingles at her touch. My heart races. She definitely likes me. Even without the spelled stones around my neck. “New beginnings can certainly be a good thing.” My phone goes off—a call this time. “I’m sorry. I know this is incredibly rude, but my phone . . .”

  “No, no. It’s fine. Go ahead.” Morgan leans back, taking her touch with her.

  “Thanks,” I say with what I hope is an apologetic smile. By the time I pull out my phone, the call is lost. Instead, I have a series of missed texts from Veronica. “Ugh.”

  “Bad news?”

  “The previously mentioned ex-who-doesn’t-want-to-let-go. She’s blowing up my phone.” I ignore her texts without reading them and place the phone facedown on the table. “Did you have the same problem with your ex?”

  Morgan fusses with her ring again, spinning it round and round. “Mine was more the show-up-at-my-house-at-all-hours type.”

  “Yikes.” Though I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the fear she went through, I shiver remembering the YOU’RE NEXT note that came flying through my window yesterday.

  “Yeah. It was honestly kind of terrifying.” Morgan shakes her head as if she’s trying to disperse the memory. “I’m half-convinced Dad looked for jobs out of state as a way to escape. He was not pleased with Riley. And talking to Riley’s parents was not an option.”

  “Riley’s the ex?”

  “Yup. He would not leave me alone. It was like he became this totally different person.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to piece together what might have happened. “Did you date him before you came out? Is that why you broke up?”

  “No, I came out in middle school. I’m bi.” She pauses, considering me. “That’s not a problem, is it?” she asks, her question more challenge than curiosity, and I hate that I’ve put her on the defensive like this.

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” I take a long sip of my smoothie and hiss when I get a brain freeze. “How’d your parents handle your coming out?”

  “They were fine. My dad’s bisexual, too, so it’s not like I had to explain any of it to them. They both understood, him especially.” She picks up her cup as my phone goes off. For the billionth time. “Is that your ex again? Maybe you should answer it. Be clear with her you don’t want to talk.”

  “You sure? I could turn it off.”

  Morgan waves me on and sips her drink.

  I pick up the phone and pivot toward the wall. “What do you want?”

  “Hannah. Thank god.” Veronica’s voice is hoarse. Something crashes in the background. “No one else is answering.”

  “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” I’m out of my chair in an instant.

  “Someone broke in. I locked myself in my room.” Another pound. Another shout.

  “Did you call the police?” I whisper into the phone, but Morgan’s eyes shoot up to find mine anyway.

  There’s another crash, and Veronica gasps. “I can’t. I think you’re right. I think it’s the Blood Witch.”

  “What?”

  “He hit me. My blood . . . I think my blood touched his skin. Hannah—”

  “I’m coming. Hang on.” I turn to Morgan. “I’m sorry. I need to leave.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Go. Do you need me to call anyone?”

  “I’ve got it covered.” I rush for the door, but I pause and turn back to my abandoned date. “I’m really sorry.”

  And then I run.

  12

  I DRIVE WITH RECKLESS abandon, my worries running on an endless loop. Nothing that’s happened this summer makes any sense. Why would a Blood Witch start a fire at Nolan’s house? Why not go after Veronica directly—like they’ve done now, I realize. The thought makes my whole body go cold.

  No one’s answering their phone, and I’m forced to leave coded messages—for my mom, my dad, Lady Ariana, even Veronica’s parents—telling them to come. To hurry. I take a sharp left toward Veronica’s street, cutting off a minivan, and dial my mom again. It rings and rings.

  “Dammit.” I throw my phone in the passenger seat when the voicemail picks up again. She must still be in class. If this isn’t a good enough reason to convince my parents to teach me advanced air magic, I don’t know what is.

  Wait. Why didn’t Veronica use magic to contact Lady Ariana? Even if her parents made her wear a binding ring, there are ways to take it off in an emergency like this. It’s not like she’d have to hide the side effects from her parents. They would understand.

  Maybe Veronica did reach out to Lady Ariana, but she’s too far away to help. Or maybe this is all an elaborate lie to mess up my date. With Veronica, it’s impossible to tell.

  But her fear sounded so real . . .

  When I turn onto Veronica’s street, it’s empty. Barren. There aren’t even any kids playing in their front yards. I pull into her driveway, throw my car in park, and unbuckle my seat belt. The flutter of my heartbeat reminds me how dangerous this is. How spectacularly I failed the last time I faced a Blood Witch.

  So long as he doesn’t come in contact with my blood, he won’t be able to bend my body to his will. He won’t be able to stop my heart. So long as I don’t bleed, I should be fine.

  Hopefully.

  I shake out my arms, like I can flick the fear off the ends of my fingers. The risks don’t matter. I can’t leave Veronica in there alone. I reach for the binding charm, bracing for the pain that comes with unauthorized removal, and rip the ring from my finger, gasping as a burning sensation twists across my skin. I drop the thin band of metal in the cup holder, my heart pounding as it rattles against the plastic.

  I’m flooded with an awareness so intense it steals my breath. The air rushes in my open window, pulling Veronica’s panic across my skin and threading it through my hair. Days of built-up magic thrums through my veins. I flex my hands, and my gaze catches on the red welts twisting down the length of my finger, already darkening to black. Irrefutable proof for my parents that I’ve broken their rules.

  But I don’t have time to worry about that. Every second I delay is a second more the Blood Witch has to hurt Veronica.

  My car door creaks as I ease it open, and I try to shut it as quietly as possible. The element of surprise is one of the few advantages I have, and I’m not about to give it up. I race to the front door, but it’s locked. Though the struggle inside is too quiet for the neighbors to hear, the air dutifully brin
gs me every sound. Hiccupping sobs. A fist against her door. Muttered curses.

  I slip around the house, looking for a way inside, but with each step my confusion grows. If the intruder is a Blood Witch, why hasn’t he smashed through Veronica’s bedroom door already?

  A shadow moves past the window up ahead. I duck down. Press myself against the foundation. My heart beats so loud I can hardly hear myself think.

  The Blood Witch.

  He must have retreated downstairs. Unless . . . A sick horror fills my legs with lead. It climbs up my body, souring my stomach and threatening to stop my heart. There were three figures inside the scrying bowl. How many witches are in the house?

  The shadow paces in front of the window, but I can’t stay crouched here forever. I need a plan. Some way to distract the Blood Witch long enough to slip inside and launch a proper attack. I don’t even need to win. Just buy enough time for our parents or Lady Ariana to arrive.

  I wait for the Blood Witch to pivot in their pacing, and then I run to the back of the house in a half crouch. I’m low enough to stay below the edge of the windows, but I don’t stop to look back. All I can do is hope the witch didn’t see me.

  When I round the corner, I stretch to my full height and inhale deep, drawing power from the air into my lungs. Energy shoots through my limbs, and a plan takes shape in my brain. It’s risky, but I have to do something. Ex-girlfriend or not, Veronica is an Elemental. We’re Clanmates and covenmates. I’m sworn to protect her as she is me.

  I inch toward the sliding glass door on the back deck. It’s locked, no surprise there, but it’s still my best way in. I just need a . . .

  There. Mrs. Matthews edged her garden in heavy stones. I reach for the steady thrum of the earth’s power and stretch my magic around the stones, lifting them into the air. Inside the house, something crashes. Veronica screams. Her fear grips my spine, and a few of the rocks fall. Hang on, V. Just a little longer. I sprint around the corner and send one of the rocks careening toward the side window.

  Glass shatters, and I’m gone before I see whether the rock made contact with anyone inside the house. A bonus if it did, but at the very least it should provide a distraction. Three more rocks draw close to me, hovering around my hips.

  I send the first through the sliding glass door. Careful to avoid cutting myself, I slip my hand inside and feel for the lock, my fingers just long enough to reach. It takes a couple of tries to turn it all the way, but then I’m inside.

  The familiarity of this house picks at my heart. This place has been a second home my entire life. I know every inch of the sprawling floorplan, from the plush carpeting in the next room to the kitchen island half a dozen steps in front of me. I pick my way through the kitchen and peer around the corner.

  Nothing. Shards of glass sparkle on the floor like crushed diamonds, and the rock I tossed through the window lies against the wall. I reach for it, my power wrapping around the hard earth and pulling it toward me.

  The air screams a warning across my back. Before I can turn, something slams into me, sending me sprawling onto the floor. A hand wraps around my ankle. Panic burns inside, driving out every bit of training I’ve ever had. I fling the rocks blindly behind me, but fear makes my magic sloppy, and my only weapons bury themselves in the walls.

  Focus. Focus, or you’ll die.

  I suck in a breath and push down the panic, flipping onto my back. This time, my kick catches the witch in the shin. He releases me, and I scramble back. The witch wears a mask and is dressed in black from head to toe. He’s tall, at least from this angle, and he’s holding what looks like the broken remains of the coat rack that normally sits by the front door, wielding it like a staff. This certainly isn’t the petite Blood Witch from New York, but does he know her? Is that what this is about?

  He moves fast, twirling the long piece of wood and bringing it down toward my head. Air surges up around me, knocking the staff far enough off course that it smacks against the floor beside me.

  “Veronica!” I shout, scrambling to my feet. Magic pulses through me, pushes against my skin, ready to escape the confines of my flesh. My whole body hums with power, and I let it free. The air whips around me, tugging at my hair.

  The Blood Witch stares at me, his eyes growing wide beneath the mask. He recovers quickly and lunges forward, swinging the staff for my head. I duck, grabbing hold of the air and pushing it forward to separate us. He falls back a step and catches his foot on the edge of an area rug. The witch trips, tumbling into the wall.

  I pin him there, pushing harder and harder with my magic, the rush of air growing stronger with each breath. Wind swirls around me like a cyclone, filling me with strength.

  “Who are you?” I have to yell over the wind and the pulse of blood in my ears. “What do you want from us?” My cyclone tugs at his mask, at the black clothes covering every inch of his skin. I have to know who it is so we can stop him and whoever else he’s working with.

  My hands tremble, and a fresh wave of fear tugs at my heart. I’ve never used magic offensively like this, and my strength is fading. Fast. As the thought rushes through my mind, I feel it. The subtle dip in the wind’s speed. The pain lancing up my arms as I push too hard.

  “Veronica!” I yell up the stairs to my right. “Our parents will be here any second.” It’s a lie. I have no idea how long until the cavalry arrives, but I need the Blood Witch to think he’s about to be severely outmatched.

  I press forward, hoping my nearness will hide the way the wind dies bit by bit. With shaking fingers, I reach for the mask. I have to know who he is.

  The Blood Witch curses, his voice deep and gravelly. Fast as lightning, he grabs my wrist, twisting it until my arm is pinned behind my back. I cry out in pain, and the wind falters.

  This is it. He’s going to kill me.

  “Get the hell away from her.”

  I glance to my left and find Veronica, her brother’s baseball bat clutched tight in her trembling hands. There’s dried blood on her nose and lips. Tracks of tears down her cheeks. I’ve never been happier to see her.

  She rushes into the room, bat raised, and then I’m shoved forward, tripping and falling onto my knees. Every muscle protests when I turn around, looking for the witch who shoved me, but Veronica doesn’t need my help. She’s already chased him out her front door.

  My lungs ache, and I let myself relax onto the floor, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

  Veronica kneels beside me, brushing tears off her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Never better,” I say, groaning as I pull myself into a seated position.

  “What happened to your face? Did he hurt you?” Veronica reaches for my cheek, for the healing cuts from yesterday’s shattered window. Dad seemed so sure the brick was about his work, but what if he was wrong? And if it was from the Blood Witch, why did he go after Veronica instead of me?

  Before I can share these new worries, the front door slams open. “Hannah! Veronica!”

  Relief washes through me as Dad spots us. He hurries over and kneels beside me on the floor, crushing me in a hug. “Your mom is on her way. Lady Ariana’s two minutes out.” He turns his attention to Veronica. “Where are your parents? Your brother?”

  Veronica sinks to the floor beside me, leaning against the wall. “Mom’s at a conference in Chicago with Dad. Gabe’s at our grandparents’ place for the week.”

  Dad nods and turns his attention on me. “Where is your phone? You can’t call in a panic and then not answer.”

  I pat at my jeans and come up empty. “I must have left it in my car.” I lean against the wall, my arms still shaking and my head woozy.

  “Hannah? Tim?” Mom’s voice cuts off whatever Dad was going to say next. She’s beside us a second later. “Oh, thank god.” She kneels and wraps me in a hug.

  I pull away from her embrace and glance at my ex-girl
friend, dried blood on her face and tears in her eyes.

  “Now do you believe me?”

  13

  WE’RE SITTING AROUND VERONICA’S dining room table when Lady Ariana arrives.

  She sweeps into the house, surveying the damaged walls and broken windows. The air grows heavy with her power, an electric current that raises the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. By the time Lady Ariana makes it to the dining room, she can’t hide her familial worry behind her usual high priestess mask.

  “Explain.” Her single word is soft and full of emotion I know she’ll never admit aloud.

  I tell my grandmother about Veronica’s call and how I broke into the house to scare off the Blood Witch. Dad asks where I put my binding charm while he removes the twisted marks from my finger. After explaining, I ask Veronica why she didn’t remove hers, but it turns out she suffered a different punishment for stealing her mother’s crystals.

  Instead of forcing her to wear a binding charm, Veronica’s parents placed a temporary binding tattoo at the base of her neck. There’s no way for her to wipe it away and restore her magic, which means she was as powerless as a Reg when the Blood Witch attacked.

  Even my grandmother cannot erase the binding rune, though she admits she might if she were able, given the circumstances. Instead, Veronica will have to spend the next ten days without her magic, until the binding wears off naturally.

  “Tell me more about the intruder.” Lady Ariana sits at the table and motions for my dad to make tea, which he does dutifully. She hasn’t admitted that the intruder was a Blood Witch. I don’t know if it’s doubt that stills her tongue or pride.

  “He was tall. Slender. Athletic.” I shiver at the memory and wonder at the witch’s identity. Is it someone I know? Is it the same person who set the fire? I run through Benton’s list of suspects from yesterday. Nolan’s about that height and build, though I still can’t see him burning his own house. The intruder clearly wasn’t Savannah, but the scrying session I’m determined not to mention suggests the Blood Witch isn’t acting alone. She could be involved. “He was strong, Grandma. Fast. I really think this was a Blood Witch.”