Page 62 of These Witches Don't Burn
“Can we stop by Veronica’s house?”
“I thought you wanted to get lunch? It’s after one,” Mom says without taking her eyes off the road.
My stomach growls at the mention of food, but that can wait. “Please? I need to talk to someone about last night. Someone who’s not my parents.” I add that second part when it looks like Mom might object.
The turn for Veronica’s street is four blocks ahead. Then three. Two. Mom sighs and makes the turn. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Han? The last time you girls were in the same room, Veronica stormed out of our house.”
“I doubt she’ll try to make out with me this time. I smell like dead fish.”
Mom crinkles her nose. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah. You do.” She laughs, and it’s the first time she’s even smiledsince I woke up in the hospital. She pulls into Veronica’s driveway and waves to Sarah Gillow, who’s serving her shift of protection detail. Mom waits in the car as I climb out.
I nod to Sarah and hike up the three steps to Veronica’s front door, my wobbly legs protesting each stair. I knock, but no one answers.
“Veronica?” I knock again and check the door. It’s unlocked, so I ease it open. “Veronica?” The familiar house is silent and protests my intrusion. The air is charged with an energy I can’t place.
The main floor is empty: kitchen, dining room, and living room. Even the laundry room is vacant, though I doubt Veronica ever sets foot in there. I find myself back in the front of the house with only the second floor left to search. The unusual energy grows stronger by the stairs. Worry creeps over my skin. “Veronica?”
Upstairs, the first two bedroom doors are open and empty. Veronica’s parents are likely at work, and her little brother is still with their grandparents. I pause before Veronica’s room. The door is only open a crack, just enough for the sounds of heavy breathing to reach the hallway where I stand.
My head fills with images of Veronica lying on the floor, bleeding out from the Hunter’s second attempt on her life.
Veronica’s voice comes through the door, broken and needy, pulling me from my thoughts. Her words lost to a gasp.
I slam open the door. It bangs against the wall, the noise too loud, too sharp in the otherwise silent house.
The scene before me doesn’t compute.
Veronica gasps and reaches for the sheet, pulling it up to cover her naked body.
Hers...
And Savannah’s.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Veronica snaps at me as she adjusts her covers, her already flushed face burning scarlet.
I stand there, staring like an absolute creep but unable to look away. To even blink.
Savannah’s eyes fill with tears as she covers herself with the discarded blanket. “You can’t tell anyone.Please. Promise you won’t say anything.”
Her panic shakes the numbness from my body, and I finally turn away, closing the door behind me. A deep hurt rises up from my core as I stumble down the familiar stairs, and I want to scrape the sight of them together out of my mind, burn the image away with acid.
How could she? After giving me so much shit about a simple first date.
“Hannah, what’s wrong? Is Veronica hurt?” Mom asks the second I slide into the front seat. “Why are you crying?”
I wipe the moisture from my cheeks. I didn’t realize I was.
18
I REFUSE TO SPEAKto Mom on the ride home. Tears coat my eyes, turning our sleepy neighborhood streets into a smear of color, like paints dripping down a canvas.
Our driveway is still empty—Dad isn’t home yet and my car will never return. Mom swings into her usual spot and shifts into park. The car jostles as it settles to a stop, and the movement breaks the dam on my eyes. Something snaps deep inside and tears spill over. I reach for the latch and practically fall out of the car as the sobs catch in my chest. Mom calls after me, but I don’t stop.
I am so done with this.
Veronica has hurt me too many times. She doesn’t get to be part of my life anymore. I want a total annihilation of her presence. Wind whips around me as I head for the door, left unlocked in my parents’ haste to get to me last night. Leaves rattle in the trees above me. The earth rumbles. The whole world trembles in the presence of my rage. But my magic cries out for more. Cries out forfire.
My fingers tingle with need. All it’ll take is a spark, the tiniest ignition, and I can burn away every memory of the girl who broke my heart. I’m inside a second later, the door slamming shut behind me from a gust of wind. I know the punishment from Mom will be swift on my heels, but I can’t stop. I raceup the stairs and burst into my room. The air around me grows aggressive, tearing at my clothes, ripping at my room. The stack of sketches flies off my desk and sticks against the far wall. Picture frames shake against their hooks.
