Page 91 of These Witches Don't Burn
Veronica turns, following my gaze. “Benton?” Confusion rides high in her voice. “What are you doing?”
I scoot back an inch, putting myself between my ex and our would-be killer. “He’s a Witch Hunter, Veronica. He’s the one who shot you.”
“Heshotme?” Veronica looks down at her arm like she’s finally understanding where the pain is coming from. “Why?” Veronica asks, breaking into sobs as Benton slinks toward us. “Why are you doing this?”
“Your kind shouldn’t exist.” Benton squeezes his eyes shut, like he can’t bear to look at us. “You especially, Veronica. You almost killed me that night at Nolan’s house, all because you’re poisoned with a power no human should have.”
“We’re just as human as you are,” I snap. “Maybe more, since we’ve neverkilledanyone.” I don’t mention how strongly I still want to kill him, how much I want him to suffer for what he’s done. Instead, I search for power in the air, in the earth beneath me—anything—but they’re still outside my reach.
Something I can’t name flashes across Benton’s face, but whatever it was, he shakes it away until his face is blank. Emotionless. “How many of you are there? A dozen? Two dozen? I know your sickness is hereditary, so your parents are like you. Veronica’s little brother, too.”
Behind me, Veronica thrashes against her bindings. “Don’t youdarego near him. Or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Use your magic to ‘make me pay’?” Benton paces back and forth between us and the pyre. Tracking his movement makes my head swim. “Deny it all you want, but when push comes to shove,your kindare the monsters. You’re the things we humans fear in the dark.”
“How is this any different?” I ask, struggling against the tape on my hands. “You pretended to be my friend and then youmurderedmy dad!”
“That wasn’t me.” Color creeps into Benton’s face, and he won’t meet my gaze. “I took too long to do my job. The Order was asking questions, so my parents had to take matters into their own hands.”
“What?” I can’t stop the tears now, and they blur Benton out of my sight. Somehow, the revelation finds new ways to hurt me. I can see it. His parents, full-fledged adult Hunters, stealing into my house and ambushing my dad.
Behind me, Veronica shudders an inhale. “You don’t have to do this,” she says, her voice high and pleading. “You can let us go.”
The Witch Hunter considers us, his eyes glimmering. “If I don’t kill you, the Orderwill. And then they’ll kill me for being too weak to do my job.” He lifts his shirt, revealing a patchwork of angry bruises all along his torso. “I thought you were going to catch me, Hannah, when you noticed the bruise along my jaw. I almost let the truth slip when you asked.”
I remember that day at work, how he defended me against Nolan. I hate how grateful I felt in that moment. If only I knew then what I know now, I could have stopped him. I could have saved Dad.
“When my parents found out you’d been at our house, they gave me an ultimatum. If I ever wanted to make it as a Hunter, Ineeded to kill my first witch within the week. I tried to do my job on the bridge, but I didn’t see Gemma until the car was already going over the edge.” He drops his shirt, covering the bruises. “We aren’t supposed to hurt humans. The Order doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”
“We could protect you,” Veronica says, and I try to stop her. I want Bentondead, not protected by the Clans, but I can’t get my voice to work. She tries again. “If you let us go, we could protect you. I swear—”
“No one can stop the Order,” Benton snaps. “And even if youcould, it doesn’t change what you are. Your abilities are an abomination.” Benton bends and leans his face close to mine. “I wanted to save you. I tried to kill Veronica first to buy you more time. I could have cured your whole family if you hadn’t interrupted.”
“Fuck you.” I spit in his face and kick up with my bound legs. My shoes catch Benton in his already injured stomach, and it takes him a moment to find his breath. I scoot back, but I only make it an inch or two before he recovers.
He picks me up by my shirt, tearing the collar, and drags me away from Veronica. I struggle with every ounce of strength I have left, digging my heels into the ground, making it as hard as possible to pull me to the pyre.
The Hunter doesn’t care. He throws me over his shoulder and carries me the rest of the way. I try to kick him, but the angle is all wrong, and I can hardly keep my eyes open.
Splinters stab at my shins, my calves, my arms as Benton throws me against the woodpile. He grabs the tape and ties me to the stake.
“Please, Benton,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. “Don’t do this.”
He ignores me. When he’s finished, he drags Veronica over. She puts up even less of a fight. Only her voice rails against him, all the strength gone from her body.
When Veronica is taped to the stake behind me, our backs flush, Benton jumps down from the pyre. He steps back to examine his handiwork and picks up a red plastic can I didn’t notice before. He uncaps the top. The smell hits me a moment before the liquid covers the wood beneath my feet and splashes against my legs.
Gasoline.
“Benton, please. Don’t do this.” Veronica’s words come out choked, slurred by her tears. “You can’t kill us like this. You can’t. You have the gun. Just end it.”
But the Hunter shakes his head. “We will no longer hide our work behind accidents.” Benton sloshes the gasoline onto our legs, and I can see it. Hunters orchestrating car crashes and house fires all across the country. Taking out Clan witches without raising suspicion for fifty years. “Your deaths will be a message.”
When Benton moves out of sight, soaking the rest of the wood with gasoline, Veronica’s hand finds mine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “For everything.” She grips my hand so hard it hurts. “And I’m sorry that you saw me with Savannah. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. We just sorta... happened.”
I try to tell her it’s okay, that I want her and Savannah to make it work, that I’m falling for Morgan, but I can’t get the words past my lips. Everything hurts. I can barely breathe through the tears and sharp smell of gasoline. I manage to squeeze her hand, but even that’s a struggle.
“Hannah...” She tries again. “I don’t want to die like this.”
