Page 41 of This Coven Won't Break
Earth shifts beneath my feet, but the energy here is no different than anywhere else in Salem. The cemetery may be a place of rest for bodily remains, but there’s nothing left of the energy of their lives. No spark. No pulse of power in the earth.
Not that I could feel it now anyway. Not with my magic still too painful to access.
But... I wish there wassomethingthat lingered beyond our deaths, some hint that my dad was still here, watching over me. Instead, the Middle Sister claims our souls and carries us to wherever the Mother Goddess has banished her. We’re reunited with our creator in death, but she leaves nothing for those who were left behind.
Maybe that’s why the Mother Goddess doesn’t interfere with the happenings of earth. She’s happy to let her three daughters collect us like rare dolls. I wonder, suddenly, what happens to witches whose powers have been stripped. Can the Sister Goddesses still find their souls in death?
A shudder works through me as I approach Dad’s grave. I take some small comfort in knowing he was a fully powered Elemental when we lost him. At least he’s safe in the next life. Even if there’s a chance the rest of us won’t be able to join him.
Mom and I stop before his grave, and she presses the back of her forefinger under her eyes. “What do we do now?” I ask, voice hushed.
“Sometimes I talk to him.” She lays a hand on the recently installed granite headstone. “I tell him how much I miss him and how worried I am about you.” Mom glances over her shoulder atme, but there isn’t judgment in her tone. She’s sharing a truth, even if it hurts us both.
Cautiously, I step forward and turn to sit beside the gravestone, leaning against the rough sides like I used to lean against him. I try to remember the weight of his arm slung over my shoulders or the press of a kiss to the top of my head, but it doesn’t come. I want to remember his laugh and his cologne and his easy smile, but everything feels so fuzzy and wrong, like I’ll never get it just right.
Tears well up, and I press down on the feelings, letting anger rise in their place. I let it consume me, wrapping it around my heart until it strangles everything good I’ve been trying to hold on to. “I hate that you’re not here,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “I hate that I miss you so fucking much all the time. I hate that I have to pretend that I don’t miss you just to keep breathing.”
It’s not fair that Benton’s memory follows me around like a ghost. That I see the boy who tried to kill me instead of the father who taught me how to embrace life. Where are the memories of Dad? Why can’t I see him sitting across the table during meals? Why can’t I remember exactly whathislaugh sounded like?
“Do you think Dad would have liked Morgan?” The question comes out small and broken, and before Mom can even answer, I’m filled with all the things Dad will never see. He won’t be there for college visits to make terrible Dad Jokes on the tours. He won’t move me into my dorm or be there for either of my graduations. He won’t give me advice on how to propose if I decide I want to get married. He’ll never get to take his place as the high priest of our coven.
And so many tiny, fleeting moments that I will never even know to miss.
“Of course he would.” Mom comes to sit beside me, and it’s her arm over my shoulders that makes me fall apart. The tears come, fast and furious, shaking my entire body until I worry I might vibrate right through the earth.
I collapse against Mom, and the walls Cal made me pick apart crumble to dust. Everything comes rushing in. The pain over losing Dad. The fear and flashbacks of fire licking up my legs as I was bound to a pyre. The pressure that builds each day the drug still exists, the weight of recruitment on my shoulders.
The secrets I’m keeping from the only parent I have left.
“It doesn’t work,” I say, wiping tears from my face as shame crawls up my chest to burn my neck and cheeks. “My magic. It doesn’t work.”
Mom pulls back to look at me, a crease lining her forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t reach the elements on my own.” The admission burns in my chest, and I can’t believe I’m doing this. But I’m so tired of secrets. I’m tired of fighting this alone. Maybe Cal is wrong. Maybe it’s not about grief. Maybe this is something another Elemental can fix.
“How long?” Mom’s voice is deceptively neutral.
For a tense moment, I consider lying. Pretending it’s not that bad. But I need help. “Ever since Benton drugged me.”
“What?” Mom stands and stares down at me, that crease in her forehead sharpening to anger. “Are you telling me that you went to New York powerless? That you agreed to help the Council without working magic?” Her voice goes shrill, and I cringe at the way it scrapes against the silence of the cemetery.
“It’s not gone completely...” I pull my knees into my chest and glance up at her. “It just... hurts whenever I try to use it.”
Mom’s pacing now, which isn’t a good sign. “So, let me get this straight. You went to Brooklyn without your magic, barely made it back from a mission that cost Sarahhermagic, and you’re just now telling me? I’m not letting you outside town limits like this.”
A wave of guilt crashes into me. I haven’t seen Sarah since we got back to Salem, haven’t had the courage to face her, but I’ve heard plenty from Mom. Rachel was devastated when she learned the news, and the stress affected her pregnancy. Mom wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong exactly, except that she’s on bed rest until her next checkup in two weeks.
But Sarah is all the more reason I have to do this. If David can restore Sarah’s magic, I owe it to her to try. I force myself to my feet and face my mother. “You can’t stop me from going to Ithaca. You can’t disobey an Elder.”
“Does Elder Keating know about your magic?” Mom reaches for her phone like she’s ready to call the Elder Caster right now and tell her.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t bebenchedbecause I finally told the truth. “You can’t tell her. WeneedDavid.”
Mom pulls up her contacts. “The Council can find someone else.”
“There isn’t time.” I reach for her phone, but a gust of air slams into me, knocking me back several steps. “Mom, you can’t.”
“I’m not going to lose you, too, Hannah. Even if that means locking you in the house.”
