“What does that one mean?” It doesn’t look too bad, but something about it pricks at my subconscious.
“I don’t know. Normally it gives me really good vibes.” Gemma picks up the piece of amethyst and holds it tight. “It’s weird, but it doesn’t feel connected to your trip tomorrow. Is it possible you were thinking about something else?”
“Maybe?” I try to remember what was in my head while Gemma shuffled, besides kissing Morgan. There was the trip tomorrow, I know I managed to think about that at least a little, and I was worried about my mom’s old coven, and—
Understanding hits me with the force of a raging thunderstorm. Zoë. The drugged coven. The woman pouring something into a pool of water. My heart speeds in my chest, and I scramble away from the cards. It can’t be. They’re just cards. How could they possibly know anything about what happened to my family?
“Hannah, what’s wrong?” Morgan stops my backward retreat.
“I know how they did it.” I spin to face her. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I can feel it. I know how the Hunters drugged the coven.”
Morgan glances past me at the spread of tarot cards. “How?”
“They put the drug in the water.” I pull out my phone and dial Archer. There could be a hundred other explanations, but this is the first one that makes any kind of sense, even if the inspiration doesn’t. The detective answers on the third ring. “We need to talk.”
7
THE CALL WITH ARCHER sets off a string of dominos. Archer promises to look into my theory about the drugged water, and within ten minutes, Mom is calling to bring me home.
She’s been in full-on Operation Never Leave Salem mode ever since.
“I don’t want you to go,” Mom says Saturday morning, for what must be the hundredth time. She’s standing in my doorway with her arms crossed firmly against her chest. “You’re safer here behind the barrier.”
“Elder Keating wants me to do this. You can’t force me to stay home.” Mom never stands up to Lady Ariana, but suddenly she’s willing to go against an Elder?
Mom’s lips press into a thin line. “I realize that, Han. But Elder Keating also said it was your choice. Which means if you back out—”
“I’m not backing out, Mom. It’s just a quick trip to New York. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I add an extra pair of socks to my bag and zip it tight. “Archer will be with me the whole time. Besides, if I don’t do this, the Council might not be able to destroy the drug before I have to testify in court.”
She already knows that we’ll be easy targets during the trial, yet she won’t stop hovering. “I don’t like this.” Mom perches at the edge of my bed and reaches for my hands. “Can’t someone else go? Cal seems like a persuasive guy.”
“Mom . . .”
“Fine.” She looks at the wall above my desk, where I’ve created a collage of pictures of Dad, photos I downloaded from social media and sent to the store to be printed on glossy paper. Her eyes are sparkling with tears when her gaze returns to mine. “At least promise that you’ll come back in one piece.”
Even though this isn’t a promise I can guarantee, I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “Of course. Now can I finish packing?”
Mom reaches for my bag and tugs open the zipper. “Do you have enough bottled water?”
“Yes,” I groan. Until we know whether my theory is right, we’re using bottled water for everything, including brushing our teeth. I grab my bag and slip out of my room. “It’s not like New York doesn’t have more if I run out.”
A car door slams. Then another. Mom follows me like a persistent shadow through the house. When I get to the living room, I check the front window. I expected Detective Archer to be here, but who’s the second—
“Sarah?” I drag my suitcase down the front steps. The early morning sun is already warm on the horizon, and I’m glad I decided to wear my hair up in a ponytail. “What are you doing here?”
My covenmate Sarah Gillow leans against her car and crosses one ankle over the other. “Good morning to you, too.”
“There’s been a change of plan,” Archer says, adjusting his tie as he approaches. “Elder Keating thinks your water theory has merit. Unfortunately, Salem’s water supply doesn’t come from within the town. It comes from Beverly.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t even occurred to me. Beverly is outside the limits of Keating’s barrier spell. It’s completely unprotected.
“Keating needs my help to get another barrier up, so I won’t be able to drive you to New York. But you can text me the entire time, and Sarah’s a talented witch. You’ll be in good hands.”
I shake my head, still trying to adjust to the last-minute change. “I’m not worried about her magic.” For as long as I’ve known her, Sarah has been an exceptionally gifted Elemental, particularly with air and water magics. Her strength is not at all the problem. “What about Rachel?”
Sarah doesn’t move, but the line of her jaw tightens at the mention of her wife. “What about her?”
Do I seriously need to spell this out for her? “She’s pregnant! You’re about to be a mom. Rachel and the baby need you.”
“What they need is a world where this drug doesn’t exist. If I can help make that a reality, I will.” Sarah pushes away from the car and crosses to the driver’s side. “Come on, Hannah. We have a tight schedule to keep.” Sarah pauses and waves at my mom, who’s standing on the top step. “I’ll bring her home safe, Marie!”
Mom waves back but doesn’t say anything. If she could stop this day from happening, she would. But I’m the only one— besides another Elder—who could keep me from going, and I’m not sitting on the sidelines a moment longer.
I loiter outside Sarah’s car and fuss with the strap of my bag. “Any final words of wisdom?” I ask Archer, turning my back on the house, turning my back on Mom’s worry.
Archer takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself before he looks at me. “Just like we practiced. State your case calmly but firmly.” His gaze finally flicks up and settles on mine. There’s worry in the crease of his brow, but he keeps whatever he’s feeling locked up tight. “If that doesn’t work, lean into the symbolism Elder Keating talked about. If you’re still fighting after everything you’ve been through, none of the rest of us have any excuse.”
A humorless laugh rumbles in my chest. “Right, so when logic fails go full-on guilt trip.”