Page 68 of These Witches Don't Burn
“Execute me,” I say, and Gem flinches. “Or at the very least, they’d strip me of my powers, which almost no one survives anyway. And there’s a good chance you wouldn’t survive the Council either.”
“Shit.” Gemma sighs. “So what? There’s a council that goes around killing witches?”
“Not exactly. Their mission is to protect our secret. By any means necessary.” There’s so much more to it than that, but Gem already knows too much. She doesn’t need to know how each Clan has a voice on the Council. Hell, she doesn’t even need to know Elementals aren’t the only witches out there. “Which means you absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, mentionanythingabout this. To anyone. Including my parents. Mom is already suspicious that you might know. I told her you were unconscious once we hit the water.”
“Okay, fine. But you gotta help me out with this Hunter thing. He might be after me, too, so I need to know how to deal with that.”
“I agree. Which is why I’ve said anything at all.”
Gemma shifts and reaches for my hand. She squeezes tight. “What’s the plan?”
•••
Gemma and I spend hours going over various theories about the Witch Hunter’s identity. I text Cal a thank-you for his help, send the video to Benton with a quickmeet me at work tomorrowmessage, and show Gemma my proof against Nolan. Her face drains of color when she sees his SUV, and I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before.
His car looks just like the one that pushed us over the bridge.
As Gem and I go over the evidence against Nolan, I slip up and mention that Detective Archer’s an agent with the Council, which leads to a whole second explanation of Caster Witches. I stress the importance of the detective never finding out what she knows, and I leave with her promise that she won’t do anything without me.
Once I’m home, Gemma goes completely radio silent. I tell myself she’s sleeping, still recovering from her stay at the hospital, but a small part of me worries that she’s not as cool with my lineage as she pretended to be. I know she’d never tell anyone what I am, but I don’t want this to change our friendship. I don’t want to lose the Gemma I know and love.
My worries turn out to be unfounded. Her first text comes through the next day while Mom drives me to work, and by the middle of my Cauldron shift, she’s blowing up my phone.
The battery runs dangerously low from the constant vibrations. I ignore the latest message buzzing against my leg as I run a dust cloth over the collection of crystal balls and blackened mirrors that we keep in a back corner of the shop for scrying. Though Gem speaks in coded language like I taught her, the whole day has been a barrage of ridiculous theories about the identity of the Witch Hunter and demands for a demonstration of my Elemental power.
Gemma’s request leaves me conflicted. My whole life, I’ve been taught to hide my magic at all costs. It’s become this secret, personal thing. Yet the idea of finally showing Gemma my true self, showing her all of who I am, holds a thrill of freedom.
A shoulder knocks into mine, sending the crystal ball in my hand tumbling to the ground. My magic reacts, pulling up air to act as a pillow. I realize at the last second what I’ve done and force the air to dissipate. Glass shatters all over the floor, only a second later than it should have.
There’s sharp laughter behind me. “Watch out, witchy girl. You could hurt yourself.”
Dread creeps up my spine as I turn to see who pushed me, a shot of panic pushing adrenaline through my veins. “What do you want, Nolan?” I inject annoyance into my tone to cover the fear. This corner of the shop is hidden from the register where Cal is working. I’m all alone with the boy who threw a brick through my window, who possibly ran my car off the road.
Who is very likely a Witch Hunter.
Nolan cocks his head to one side, a predatory smile curving his lips. “Just stopping by to check on my handiwork.” He runs a finger along the top of a crystal ball, his movements infused with the lazy patience of someone who thinks they hold all the power. “I wonder if any of those cuts will scar.”
A million biting retorts rise to my lips before my brain remembers that I was afraid, that Nolan might be more than a pompous jock. The bell above the door chimes, and I latch on to the distraction. “I have other customers. I have to go.”
“I’d wait if I were you. We have so much to talk about.” Nolan steps in front of me, blocking my escape. “I know what youdid at my house.” He leans close, his voice a whisper against my skin. “I’m going to tell everyone your secret.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to sound irritated, like his words are nonsense, but my voice breaks. I try to shove past him. “Get out of my way.”
Nolan catches my wrist and holds me in place. His fingers dig in hard enough to bruise. “Not until you admit what you did.”
“Let go of me.” I rip my arm from his grip, my whole body shaking. He’s still blocking my path back to the register. I try to remember all the things we learned last night, how to find the water energy in his blood and freeze it, but the memory slips through my fingers like trying to capture smoke with a butter-fly net.
He pulls out his phone. “Not until you admit your crimes on camera.”
“My crimes?”
“Is everything okay back here?” Benton rounds the corner, sidestepping the broken glass, and glances between me and Nolan. “What’s going on?”
“None of your business, Hall.” Nolan tilts his head up, the edge of his jaw sharp. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Hannah and I have some unfinished business.”
Benton looks to me for confirmation, and I shake my head. “No, you don’t,” he answers, planting himself between us. “I think it’s time to leave.”
Nolan’s expression hardens. “Make me.”
