Page 27 of These Witches Don't Burn
“Are you going to question her? Do you have enough crystals?”
Veronica glares at me. “Savannah is not a witch. And even if she were, I wouldn’t need magical help to convince her to share her secrets. People actually like talking to me.”
Her words sting, but she’s swallowed up by the crowd before I can unstick the witty retort at the back of my throat. I choke it down and slip outside. As I near the small fire, everyone seems hyperaware of my presence. They greet me with wide smiles, stepping into my path to say hello. It slows me down, but at least I know the crystals are working.
I manage to extract myself from the growing crowd as Evan walks past. “Evan, wait!” I hurry after him, one hand gripping the crystals, willing their power to reach for his retreating form. “I need to talk to you.”
Either the rose quartz is working or Evan isn’t the angsty goth kid he wants everyone to think he is, because he stops. Turns. Gives me an exhausted look. “What do you want, Hannah?”
The crystals grow warm in my touch. People wave to me as they pass, which makes Evan jumpy. I’m on edge, too. It’s possible Evan’s a Blood Witch, and if he is, he could hurt me. Faster thanI could conjure a defense. But unless he calms down, this interrogation won’t go anywhere. “Do you mind if we go someplace quieter?”
Evan looks suspicious, but he lets me lead him to the edge of Nolan’s property. Here, at least, we shouldn’t be interrupted.
“Well, what is it?” he asks when I don’t speak right away. “Here to harass me about my purchases again?”
“I wasn’t,” I say, clutching at the stones around my neck, hoping the rose quartz will loosen his tongue. “But since you bring it up, let’s talk curses. I know you’re the one who killed that raccoon at the bonfire.”
“I didn’t—” he starts, but his words die in his throat as the chrysocolla burns hot in my hand, choking away the lie. He tries to deny it again, but the sounds stick in his throat. Finally, he gives in. “How did you know?”
“In truth, I didn’t know. I had a solid hunch though,” I say without thinking.Oh no.I drop the stones, horrified. They aren’t supposed to pull outmytruth. It isn’t supposed to work this way. How did they—
Veronica. Of course. I bet she messed up the spell on purpose. For a brief, sickening moment, I wonder if she faked the scrying today, too, like she did with her question about my feelings. Was the whole thing an elaborate ruse to humiliate me?
But she seemed so scared when the water confirmed there’s a Blood Witch in Salem...
“Why did you cast the curse? What were you trying to do?” I ask, steering the conversation back on track. Imperfections aside, the crystals are drawing out the truth, and that’s something I could sorely use.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Evan pushes past me, hisstrength knocking me back a step. My mind races, searching for signs of his magic. Was that the strength of a Blood Witch? Or simply a guy with more height and weight than I have?
“You have to tell me.” I reach for his wrist, holding him back. I focus all my attention on the warm thrum of the rose quartz in my other hand, willing him to trust me.
“Why?”
“Because I’m scared!” The words tumble out, and the truth of them rings in the air around us, puncturing whatever bravado kept Evan so tense. “I’ve been so scared since that night, and if I knew what happened, if I knew what your plan was, maybe I could sleep better at night.”
“Hannah.” Evan’s voice dips low, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I never meant for anyone to see it. I wasn’t trying to scare you. Or hurt Savannah.”
“Then what were you doing?” I ask.
Evan glances over his shoulder, but between the music and the distance to the nearest partygoer, there’s no danger of someone overhearing. “It’s about my dad.”
“Your dad?”
Evan blows out his breath in a big rush. “You have to understand, my dad is not a good person. He’s cruel and controlling. I’ve spent half my life terrified of him. My mom has, too. He was never violent, not physically, but nothing we ever did was good enough for him.”
“Shit, Evan. I’m sorry,” I say, and though this isn’t the time or the place, though it feels incredibly selfish, I’m suddenly extremely grateful for my dad. For his kindness and his unending support. “What were you trying to do? Get him to leave you alone?”
“He already left. Took off a few months ago with the officemanager from his law firm.” Evan makes a disgusted sound. “She’s barely older than I am. She has no idea what kind of monster my dad is. He took everything. All my parents’ savings. My mom can’t keep up with the payments on our house.”
“I am so sorry.” I apologize again, because I don’t know what else to say. This isn’t the kind of conversation I was expecting. “But then... What’s with all the spells? Are you trying to curse your dad?”
Evan scowls, and his voice goes harsh. “I’m not asking for anything he doesn’t already deserve.”
The chrysocolla burns hot against my chest. He thinks he’s telling the truth, but he’s not. He’s doing too much. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, but the kind of magic you’re using—”
“I know,” he says, cutting me off. “I know it’s dangerous. I know my mom would never approve, but he deserves it, Hannah. He really does.” Evan’s pain crashes into me, channeled through the crystals at my neck, and it’s so heavy. Years of hurt all bubbling up to the surface.
“But what about the runes?” I ask. “What were you trying to do with those?”
