Page 82 of These Witches Don't Burn
So, we wait.
And hope the doctors are good at their jobs.
•••
Mom and I flinch whenever someone passes the doorway to our private waiting room, our personal circle of misery. The hospital staff walk by without so much as a glance inside, without the barest acknowledgment of the fear that breeds in our hearts like a festering wound.
As the hours tick past, I come up with a plan. Once Dad is out of surgery, Morgan’s parents can heal him fully, and then this Hunter ismine. Well, ours, anyway.
The room around me is filled with Elementals, with family bonded by magic and tragedy and fear. A family both born and chosen. My people. My community. My everything.
The Hunter picked the wrong coven—the wrongfamily—to mess with.
By the time my grandmother arrives, everyone is already here. Ellen Watson sits beside Rachel and Sarah Gillow while their parents speak in hushed tones. Mr. and Mrs. Blaise sit to my right, pushing food and drinks on me every few minutes. Veronica and her brother are here with their parents, but I don’t have the emotional energy to even acknowledge her.
Lady Ariana stands at the center of the little room, and I’ve never seen her look more tired. Dark circles sit below her eyes, making her face look gaunt and almost hollow. Beneath her cracking composure is the same fear in my veins, fear for the loved one still in surgery.
“Is he coming?” Mom stands, her knees popping as they straighten for the first time in hours.
“Agent Archer is parking the car. He’ll be up shortly.” She looks past Mom and settles her unusually soft gaze on me. “I’m sorry, Hannah. You were right about our coven being in danger. I should have believed you from the moment I saw the sacrifice in the woods.”
Her warmth is uncomfortable, especially since she was right. The sacrificewasa Reg dabbling in dangerous magic, just like she said, but I nod anyway. Even that small motion closes my throatand threatens tears. Lady Ariana shouldn’t fracture like this. She’s supposed to be the one who gives us strength.
“Has the agent—” Mom pauses when footsteps echo in the hall. She waits for the pair of nurses to pass before continuing. “Has he finished the tracking spell?”
“Almost. They’re crafting two spells—it seems his assistant isn’t entirely convinced this Riley fellow is in Salem—but still it shouldn’t be more than a day.” Lady Ariana smooths a thin hand across her white hair, but she can’t disguise the way her fingers shake. “He will explain everything when he arrives, after he speaks with the team that took down the last Hunter.”
This time, I do find my voice. “How many Hunters are there?”
“Nationally?” Lady Ariana shakes her head. “The Council isn’t entirely sure.”
I use the chair’s arms to shove myself to my feet. “And what about locally? How many Hunters are in Salem? In Massachusetts?” When Lady Ariana doesn’t respond, the room spins.What have we gotten ourselves into?
“Relax, Hannah.” Mom grips my arm, her breath coming out white before her, and I finally notice the thrum of magic beneath my skin. My worry has latched on to the air, sucking out all the heat.
“Relax? How am I supposed to relax?” But even as I say the words, the air warms. I glance over at Lady Ariana, at the power in her stance, and know she’s reclaimed ownership of the elements.
Footsteps cut through the silence, the click of dress shoes against tile floor. We stare at the doorway, waiting for the latest doctor to move out of earshot.
But the tall man doesn’t pass our door. Instead, Detective Archer walks in, his little notebook in hand. “Miss Walsh.” He nods in my direction.
“You.” I storm over to Detective Archer, hands clenched into fists. Magic rising in my chest. “You were supposed to protect us. How could you let this happen?”
“Hannah!” Mom’s horrified voice slows my rage. But only for a second.
“No, Mom. I’m sorry, but no. This man,” I say, pointing at the detective, “wasted time following me across Salem instead of doing his job, and now Dad’s... He’s...” I can’t even finish the thought.
“Hannah.” This time, it’s Lady Ariana who speaks my name, and it holds a power Mom’s voice doesn’t. The air around me grows thick. Heavy. It weighs on my limbs until I can’t move.
The detective has the decency to put away his stupid notebook. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster, Hannah, and I’m so sorry about your home and your father, but Iwillstop this Hunter. My assistant is working on the tracking spells as we speak. It’s only a matter of time.”
“We’re out of time, Detective. How many of us have to lose our homes before you stop this? If this isn’t Riley, what other suspectsdoyou have?”
I pause, and when he doesn’t immediately respond, my anger flares. “Here, I have plenty. I’ve already given you Nolan Abbott—grade-A asshole and the right build to be Veronica’s attacker. And then there’s Savannah Clarke, the girl you first questioned me about. She threatened me at the Cauldron this week. Have you looked into either of them yet, or were you too busy sucking face with my boss to do your job?”
“Hannah,” Mom snaps.
Detective Archer holds up a hand. “It’s okay, Marie. Your daughter has every right to be upset.”
