Page 95 of These Witches Don't Burn
Detective Archer nods for me to continue.
“The Hunters... Their plans are evolving.”
“How do you mean?”
“They’re developing a drug. Something to strip the Clans of their powers.” I shiver and hold the stone to my heart. “Permanently.”
The detective curses. “Did he say how close they were? How soon?”
“I don’t know. Benton said our deaths were supposed to be a message. That the Hunters aren’t going to hide anymore.” I shut my eyes and reach for the air around me, but there’s nothing. “Whatever this drug is, it’s still holding strong.”
Detective Archer scribbles something in his notebook. “I’ll get a sample of blood from when you first came in. We’ll test it and see what we’re up against.”
“Detective?”
“Yeah?”
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
The detective sighs. “Yeah, Hannah. It’s bad.” He stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. “But this isn’t the first time the Hunters have tried to wipe us out. We won’t go down without a fight.”
30
I DON’T WANT TObe here.
The little ranch-style house looms before me. Its white siding and yellow trim is so cheery it makes me want to puke.It’s only temporary. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t make this any easier.
It’s not home.
“Come on, Hannah. I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.” Mom leads me toward the front door and swings it wide. She disappears inside, leaving the door open behind her.
Mom and I had been staying in a hotel since I got out of the hospital, but the Council finally did something right and found us a rental. I take a deep breath, the air providing strength. It’s been five days since I almost burned to death. Five days, and my powers are only just starting to come back. Bit by bit.
“Hannah, come on.” Mom pokes her head out the door. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“I’m coming.” I trudge down the crooked sidewalk and up the porch steps. Mom’s been doing her best to act cheery for me, but I can see under the mask. I wish I knew how to make it better for her. For both of us. “What’s the big surprise?”
Mom points down the hall. “In your new room. Second door on the left.”
Your new room. I shove down the urge to remind her thatI don’twanta new room. That I want my old room and my old clothes and my old life. She’s trying. I have to try, too.
The hideous beige carpet compresses under my steps. I reach for the door and flinch as the hinges creak open.
“Surprise!” Gemma flies into view, hopping on one foot while balancing her cast in the air. “Good to see you’re up and moving. About time, slacker.”
Gemma’s cheer grates at my soul, but I force a smile and allow her to crush me in a hug so hard it cracks my back. “What are you doing here?” I try to inject some warmth into my words, but I’m not sure I succeed.
“Oh, you know, getting things set up a bit.” Gemma whistles and Morgan steps out of the closet carrying Gemma’s crutches. “Thought we’d make this place feel a little more like home.”
“What are you—”
And then I see what they’ve done.
My closet is full, packed with all the clothes I used to love. There’s the T-shirt with the Rubik’s Cube and my UMass hoodie. All my favorite jeans and yoga pants. New versions of nearly everything I lost. “How did you do this?”
“It was mostly Gem. She overheard your mom talking to the detective about needing new clothes. Gemma suggested she let us handle the shopping.” Morgan passes Gem the crutches. “We didn’t mean to ambush you.”
“The ambush was thepoint.” Gemma rolls her eyes and hops back over to the closet. “Look, I even got all those shirts with the ridiculous puns on them. I made Morgan pretend they were for her.”
