Page 20 of These Witches Don't Burn
“That’s all I’m trying to do, make sure he gets what he deserves.” Evan curls his hands into fists, squeezing so hard his arms shake, but he doesn’t clarify whoheis. “I don’t care what happens to me.”
“Evan—”
“Does your boss know you’re here?”
“I... uh...”
“Didn’t think so.” Evan steps closer, until I have to crane my neck to meet his stare. “Leave me the hell alone, Hannah, or Iwillstop coming to the Cauldron. And I’ll tell your bossexactlywhy she’s lost my business.”
This threat actually lands. I can’t lose my job. As much as I complain about the tourists, the Cauldron is the only reason I can afford my clunker of a car and the insurance to keep it on the road. The extra cash pays for art supplies and midnight diner trips with Gem and even my half-assed excuse for college savings. “You wouldn’t.”
“I don’t want to. Your boss has the best supplies in town.” Evan’s eyes go hard; he leans in close. “But I’m not going to let you harass me every time I walk through the door. Stay out of my business.”
I really want to tell him to go screw himself, but the thought of getting fired and losing my only source of income—meager though it may be—silences my tongue.
“Understood?”
“Fine.” I cross my arms and return his stony glare. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Whatever.” Evan acts tough, but he can’t hide the tremor in his voice. He may be desperate enough to break one of thefundamental tenets of Wicca—harm none—but he clearly knows he’s playing with fire.
I lean against the rough exterior of the Witch Museum and watch as Evan slips inside. I consider asking Lauren why she even stocks the supplies for hexes and other negative spellwork, but I can practically hear her response in my head. Something about balance and the importance of letting people make the mistakes necessary to find their true path. Nonsense, really. Lady Ariana would never allow so much freedom.
There is no room for mistakes in the Clans.
A warm breeze drifts past, pulling strands of hair across my cheeks and rustling the low bushes beside me. I glance down.
It can’t be...I jolt away from the building, my heart hammering against my ribs, adrenaline preparing my body to run. Lady Ariana said we were safe. She said there was no Blood Witch here.
She was wrong.
On the side of the Witch Museum, behind a row of bushes, shines a series of runes.
Drawn in blood.
In an instant, I’m transported back to a tiny apartment. Bloody runes cover the walls, and a girl with blue hair is desperately scrubbing them away, trying to erase them before the magic can take hold.
And then I’m in Central Park, where the Blood Witch finally finds me. Where she wraps her fingers around my throat—
Laughter cuts through the memory, bringing me back to myself. Behind me, a small child toddles down the sidewalk, squealing with delight as their two dads chase after them. The trio passes the Witch Museum, and the taller of the dads scoopsup the curly-haired kid and reaches for the other man’s hand. The family walks across the street to where a row of food trucks is serving lunch.
I smile after them and find the courage to study the runes more closely. Nothing bad will happen to me around all these people. I recognizeJera—two interlocking capitalLs, twisted on a diagonal—andPeorth, which looks like an hourglass tipped on its side with the top missing. I don’t recognize the other runes, but I knowJeradeals with time and change whilePeorthrefers to things hidden. Usually magical things.
What is the Blood Witch trying to do?As the question presses to the front of my mind, I know I’m right. This wasn’t a Reg.
I may not know much about blood, but I understand paint. There’s a confidence to these runes, a sureness to their creation. If a Reg drew these, there’d be imperfections in the lines where they hesitated and consulted their guide. No. These runes lookexactlylike the ones in New York, complete with the impressions of two fingers in each stroke along the stone wall. A Reg couldn’t do this. They wouldn’t be this precise.
Was I wrong about Evan? He’s clearly up to something, but maybe he wasn’t the one who killed that raccoon. Maybe the same witch who drew these runes was out in the woods with us.
My hands shake as I reach for my phone.How did they do this without getting caught?This isn’t exactly a quiet street. Even now, people in line are giving me weird looks for climbing through the bushes to take a photo. I doubt even Lady Ariana could test the wall for magic without being seen, so how did the Blood Witch—
It doesn’t matter. I just need proof so Lady Ariana will believe me and take care of the intruder. She’ll keep us safe.
I snap pictures of the runes with my phone. My parents should be able to identify the rest and tell me what they mean. In case that isn’t enough to prove this wasn’t a Reg with access to Google, I grab a receipt from my other pocket, soft and worn from going through the wash once or twice. I cringe as I swipe the thin paper along the markings, careful to avoid skin contact. I know firsthand what happens when a Blood Witch takes an Elemental’s blood.
I’d rather not find out what happens if I touch theirs.
7
