Page 40 of This Coven Won't Break
A flush of jealousy burns my skin, but I push down the old reflex. I hated the way Veronica fawned over the older witches in Manhattan, but that shouldn’t matter now. Veronica and I have returned to our pre-dating friendship. Mostly. Who she worries about is none of my business. Besides, there’s no reason to be jealous that she remembers where someone is from.
Yet that doesn’t stop this weird feeling in my gut.
“Maybe I should call her again,” Veronica muses. “See if she’s okay.”
“Wait.” The weird feeling inside grows hot and angry. “What do you meanagain?”
“Don’t be mad, Han—”
“Saying that basically guarantees it’s supposed to make me mad,” I counter.
My ex sighs. “It’s not a big deal. After everything that—” She loses her voice and has to clear her throat before she can start again. “Aftereverything, I called the Casters to warn themabout the Hunters. Lexie was the only one who answered.”
“I’m sorry,” I snap, rolling out of bed to pace the small bedroom. “After everythingtheydid to us, you still have their phone numbers?!”
“They deserve to know the Hunters are back.”
“Pretty sure we have a Council for that, Veronica. Or did you forget that like you forgot the rest of us when you ran away to college?”
“I haven’t forgottenanything, Hannah.” Her voice is low now, a dangerous edge to her words. “Just because I don’t want to relive my trauma every day doesn’t mean I don’t remember. It doesn’t mean my life is fucking perfect.”
Her words hang between us, and the hurt in her voice deflates the righteous anger that was building inside me. We were friends a lot longer than we were girlfriendsorexes, but it’s so easy to default to the bitter, hurt feelings that consumed me after our breakup. Those emotions are more recent. Still a little raw. I perch on the edge of my bed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—”
“I know,” she says, softening, too. “And I swear, I was just warning them to be careful. I wasn’t asking to hang out or anything.” She pauses, and I picture her lying back on her bed in her dorm, staring out at the moon. “You know I’m sorry for dragging you into that whole mess. And now you’re stuck dealing with Alice on top of everything else.”
“My life is absurd. It belongs in some modern art museum.”
Veronica laughs. “Can you imagine if you had to recruit Coral or Tori to help, too?”
“Alice might actually kill me.”
For the next hour, I let Veronica distract me with stories about her and Savannah. They officially started dating after Vgot out of the hospital over the summer, and they managed to get placed as roommates at school.
Veronica tells me about late-night walks under the stars, failed attempts to turn the dining hall into a romantic date location, and a couple of frantic all-nighters to study for tests with her new friends.
“Savannah’s even planning to come out to her parents when we’re home for fall break,” she adds, her voice hushed. “She’s been dropping little hints, and so far, they haven’t said anything weird.”
“That’s awesome, V,” I say, even as a bubble of jealousy flares up again. But then she asks about Morgan, and all that goes away. I tell her that Mom still lives by theNo Closed Doorsrule, which makes her laugh. “You should have heard the awkward Safe Sex Talk that Mom tried to give me this morning. It wasmortifying. I’m going to have to avoid her until I leave for Ithaca on Saturday.”
Veronica groans sympathetically. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you visit.” But she doesn’t ask why I’m coming. She doesn’t want to know about my mission oranythingabout the Hunters or the Council. I want to tell her that not knowing won’t protect her, but our renewed friendship is still fragile, so I don’t press.
That night, Benton plagues my nightmares. Waking doesn’t do me any good, either. He stalks me through the halls at school, a constant specter shadowing me through each of my classes. He leans against my locker between periods, a sketchbook clutched in one hand to ask my opinion on a logo he’s designing for a friend’s band. He’s there in the lunch line, complaining about the soggy pizza and room-temperature ranch.
He’s a thousand tiny memories built over a year of friendship. I’m already so on edge about Sarah and Alice andeverythingthat each time I hear his voice, each time I remember his laugh and his smile and the nudge of his elbow at the art table, I lose a little more of myself.
My week becomes a cycle of nightmares and hallway ghosts and a half-hearted attempt to retain some semblance of normalcy. I keep my promise to explain my NYC trip to Gemma. Archer schedules meetings to practice my recruitment speech for David. We go over the blueprints for Hall Pharmaceuticals. Every day, I squeeze in as much homework as I can, but I’m slipping further and further behind.
And always there’s this pain in my chest for the people we’ve lost. Alice’s parents. Elder Keating’s brother. Council agents.
My dad.
So when Mom invites me to go with her to visit Dad’s grave on Friday night, I agree. There isn’t much more I can do at this point to prepare for tomorrow’s trip, and maybe—just maybe—visiting Dad will help with whatever is blocking my magic.
Mom drives us, and with each mile, I get more and more anxious. I haven’t visited the cemetery since the burial, and by the time gravel crunches under the wheels of the car, everything inside screams at me to turn around, to beg Mom to drive away, but I can’t. I don’t say anything as we continue forward.
Though I haven’t been here since the burial, Mom comes at least once a week. She always invites me, and I always say no. Tears threaten when I spot the crooked, gnarled tree and Mom pulls over. We sit silently in the car, Mom waiting for me to make the first move. The air is warm, her power filling the car with gentle reassurances that I’m not alone.
My fingers tremble as I reach for the handle and open my door. I step out into the mid-September sun, and the silence issuffocating. There’s this awful sense of finality, and it’s almost enough to send me running. Mom climbs out after me, and we both shut our doors, twinthunksin the silence.
