Home > These Witches Don't Burn (These Witches Don't Burn #1)(5)

These Witches Don't Burn (These Witches Don't Burn #1)(5)
Author: Isabel Sterling

   The mangled remains of a raccoon swing from a noose above us. A red slash forms a gruesome smile across its stomach, spilling flesh and blood to the ground. Meatier bits stick to its broken ribs and dangle suspended in the air. A piece slips free and lands beside Savannah. My stomach clenches. Bile burns my throat, and I swallow to keep from getting sick.

   A hand touches my back, and I flinch away.

   Veronica scowls. “It’s me. Relax.”

   “Relax? She is covered in blood. And god knows what else.” I retch and walk farther away from Savannah, toward the flickering fire. My heart aches for the poor creature. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

   “No kidding,” Veronica snaps, but then she stops short and reaches for me. “Look.”

   I follow her pointed finger to the flames. “I know. I saw the fire. I’m not completely oblivious.”

   “Then shut up and really look.”

   Gasoline and wood smoke—and not a small amount of panic—choke the air from my lungs when I finally do as she says.

   That’s not a circle carved into the earth and set aflame.

   It’s a pentacle.

   My hands shake, and I stumble away from the fire. A pentacle near a blood sacrifice means one of two things, and neither is particularly great. Either a Reg is dabbling in dangerous magic . . .

   Or there’s a Blood Witch in Salem.

   “Do you think she followed us?” I ask, keeping my voice low so Savannah won’t hear, but I can’t bury the fear. The panic. If this isn’t a Reg prank—please, please let it be a Reg prank—then it has to be a Blood Witch.

   Of the three Witch Clans, Blood Witches are the only ones who use animal sacrifices in their magic. And they don’t have a good reputation for respecting human life—Reg or Clan.

   On reflex, my fingers rub against my jaw. I can almost feel the long-healed bruise there. The cut on my skin. The—

   “Hey, it’s okay.” Veronica pulls my hand from my face. “She has no idea where we live. This isn’t her. Come on, let’s get this cleaned up.” She releases me and rushes back to Savannah’s side. “Can you stand, sweetie? We need to get out of here.”

   Sweetie? Are Veronica and Savannah— I push the thought away. I have more pressing concerns right now than whether or not my ex is hooking up with one of the hottest girls in Massachusetts.

   “I think so.” Savannah reaches for Veronica’s outstretched hand. “But my wrist . . . I think it’s broken.”

   Branches snap in the distance. Someone calls my name. A second later, Gemma and Nolan spill into the small clearing, followed by a few of Nolan’s teammates.

   “Oh, thank god, there you are.” Gemma rushes over and flings her arms around me. “When I couldn’t find you by the bonfire, I thought for sure—” Her voice dies when she sees Veronica supporting Savannah’s weight. “What’s going on here?” She looks up and gasps. “And what the hell is that?”

   Nolan steps forward and slips in the puddle of blood. A string of muttered curses fills the tense air as he wipes his previously pristine Adidas on the grass. Behind us, the crowd grows as classmates follow the soccer team into the clearing.

   “Ha-ha, very funny.” Nolan sounds anything but amused as he scans the tipsy group behind him. “You got us. Joke’s over.”

   A murmur works through the crowd, but no one responds.

   Something violent flashes through Nolan’s eyes. “I’m not kidding, assholes. Clean this up. Prank’s over.” When no one answers, he tries another angle. He plasters on his most charming smile and approaches Savannah. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

   Savannah eats it right up.

   “I saw the fire and thought someone set up a quieter party. I didn’t see the blood until it was too late.” She cradles her injured arm carefully against her chest.

   “Did you see anything else?”

   To my surprise, Savannah nods. “I saw someone running away.”

   Relief washes over me. “Was it someone from school?” If a Blood Witch did this—if she were here—there’s no way they’d stick around long enough for a Reg to spot them. This has to be a prank. A cruel—and super gross—prank.

   But Savannah shakes her head, puncturing my sense of surety. “I didn’t see their face. They were wearing a hoodie.”

   At that, Nolan circles the crowd, moving along the edge of the burning pentacle. “All right, which of you assholes tried to ruin my bonfire?” He stops in front of Evan, who’s wearing a black hoodie and even thicker eyeliner than he had on in the store. “Looks like we’ve found our witch. Shall we break out the gallows?”

   Nolan’s teammates laugh, but I flinch at his words. At their meaning. Though no Elementals died in Salem’s witch trails, a few Caster Witches perished alongside the accused Regs. Nolan’s cruel smile makes me want to hit something. Preferably him.

   Gemma sidles closer to me and makes a face. “I can’t believe I made out with that asshat, like, five minutes ago.”

   “So much for your summer fling,” I say, casting her an apologetic look.

   Nolan steps closer to Evan, sizing him up. “What’s the matter? No spells to make you disappear?”

   “Back off, Abbott. I didn’t do anything.” Evan shoves Nolan and separates himself from the crowd of soccer players gathering around him.

   Nolan looks to his teammates and grins. “Not until you clean up your mess.”

   “Screw you.” The fire in front of Evan casts a strange glow on his face. He curls his hands into fists like he’s ready for a fight. Like he’s been hoping for one all along.

   There is no version of this story that ends well. I need to get out of here. Now. I turn to Gemma, but she’s not there. Dammit, Gem. Where are you? I push through the crowd and find her ending a call on her phone.

   “We gotta go.” I reach for her arm, but her hand flies to her mouth. There’s a deep thwack, the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with someone’s face.

   I turn as Nolan stumbles back against a tree, touching his lips. His fingers come away with blood. He lunges forward, catching Evan around the waist.

   The boys hit the ground and roll, first Nolan on top, then Evan. Fists fly. Half the soccer team joins the fray, some pulling the guys apart, others adding their fists to the fight. They roll down the small incline toward us, heading right for the—

   “Keep them away from the fire!” I rush to the pentacle, pushing frozen onlookers out of the way, and kick dirt over the blaze.

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