“I don’t know,” I finally say, unable to find a suitable lie.
“We know the breakup with Veronica has been hard for you,” Mom says, her words cutting straight to my heart. “But you have to find a more productive way to channel your frustration. Looking for monsters that don’t exist isn’t a healthy way to spend your summer.”
“That’s not what this is.” But her words strike a chord. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am looking for villains to distract myself from the Veronica Situation. And Evan is clearly up to something. He works at the museum. The runes could be part of whatever pagan curse he’s casting. Maybe he practiced at home until he perfected them. That would account for the lack of hesitation marks.
“Channel whatever ‘this’ is into your art. Leave coven business to the adults.” Mom grabs one of the smaller boxes. “Biscuit?”
“Sure.” I take one of the now-cold biscuits and drop it on my plate. “You swear there was no magic in that blood?”
“Cross my heart,” Mom starts.
Dad finishes the saying. “And hope to die.”
* * *
• • •
I trust my parents.
I really do.
But day after day at the Cauldron, as I restock some of the same tools Evan bought for his bloody rituals, the worries pick at the back of my mind. What if my parents were wrong? What if they lied when they said the test was negative? It’s not like I would know. They never explained the intricacies of their spell. Never explained what the different colors meant.
Or maybe a Blood Witch made Evan draw the runes for them. It’s not impossible. A few years ago, Lady Ariana told us about the Blood Witch who instigated the accusations during the witch trials.
According to my grandmother’s stories, a Blood Witch named Elijah grew jealous when the Caster woman he fancied fell in love with a Reg man. When Elijah’s Blood Magic failed to make the woman he desired love him back, he turned to the most sinister parts of his power. Despite the growing dangers of Witch Hunters, Elijah sent children like Abigail Williams and Elizabeth Parris into fits until the town was in such a frenzy he could accuse anyone he liked. Elijah started with the Reg man who had married the young Caster woman. In the end, when she still refused him, Elijah accused the very woman he claimed to love.
The Council, which up until that point had only gone after Witch Hunters—a secret society of Regs who had discovered the Witch Clans and sought to destroy us—decided something had to be done about Elijah. They sent agents to Salem to strip the Blood Witch of his dangerous magic, but he resisted. In the end, the struggle killed him, and his crimes led to the creation of the Council laws we live by today. After the witch craze in Salem ended, and the rest of the living Caster families fled, the Council banned Blood Witches from the town and stationed a handful of Elemental families here. Our coven, and our family, descended from those first Elementals.
I was fourteen when Lady Ariana told that story, a little over a year after I passed my first initiation and no longer had to wear a binding charm to suppress my magic around Regs. I had nightmares about Blood Witches for weeks.
A sigh spills past my lips as I restock the candles. I hate that there’s no one to talk to about this. Normally, I’d call Gem, but she has no idea magic is even real. My parents think I’m projecting breakup issues, and my grandmother is a little on the scary side.
There’s no one to confide in. No one to help make sure my parents were right about those runes. No one except . . .
Nope. Not an option. Not even a little bit.
I spend the last two hours of my Friday shift trying to focus on other things. Like the creepy customer buying supplies for a love spell or the hipster teen who tries to slip a baggie of incense into his pocket. I even help Cal reshelve the books to distract myself. But no matter what I’m doing, the option that’s not really an option?
Yeah, that keeps winding its way through my brain.
By the time I clock out and head for the parking garage, my stupid idea has turned into my last beacon of hope. I pull out my phone and stare at the blank text. Screw it. I punch in her number and hover over the keypad. It takes three tries before I can hit send.
HW: I need your help.
Ellipses bounce below my message.
VM: Where are you?
This is a bad idea. I should tell Veronica it was a mistake. Pretend I meant to text Gemma. Or Benton. Or literally anyone who isn’t her. Instead, I lean against my car and type my response.
HW: Meet me at my place. Twenty minutes. Bring the book.
I unlock my car and slide in the front seat.
VM: I’ll be there.
My skin flushes as I pull out of my space and drive down the winding parking structure. This was a mistake. A terrible, irreversible mistake. But it’s also my only hope of putting these Blood Witch worries to rest.
Veronica is waiting for me when I get home, leaning against my front door.
Stay strong. You can do this. I cut the ignition and climb out of my car. “I want to make one thing clear before we go inside.”
Veronica raises one eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“This isn’t a social call. We’re not getting back together.”
“Then why am I here?” Veronica starts toward me, but I put up one hand and she stops.
“I need your help.” I step away from my car, ignoring how incredibly exposed I feel. “Did you bring the book?”
Veronica raises her purse in response. It swings like a pendulum as I walk up the driveway and unlock my front door. My ex follows me inside and up the stairs. When we’re shut in my room, I turn to explain, but Veronica isn’t looking at me. Her attention is trained on the newest additions to my walls.
“When did you do this?” She’s stopped in front of my latest piece. I started it a few days after we broke up, a self-portrait of a girl betrayed. Yet with each layer it morphed into something almost resembling strength. Freedom. “You look so . . .” she starts and trails off.
“So what?”
“Broken.”
I stiffen. “I didn’t bring you here to criticize my work. I can’t stop worrying that there’s a Blood Witch here. Even if it’s not the girl from New York, there are others.”
No one—except perhaps the Council—knows exactly how many witches are in the US. Lady Ariana says that for every ten Elementals, there are probably seven Casters and only two Blood Witches. They’re uncommon, even for witches, but they’re still very much alive.