But Cal shakes his head, and my chance at convincing him to talk to the Council crumbles. “The Elders are still arguing about what to do for Phase Two.” He must mistake my panic at the mention of Elders for confusion, because he clarifies. “Destroying the drug is Phase One. Phase Two is neutralizing the Hunters entirely.”
I nod, but I’m still shaken by the reminder that the Elders are involved in this. There are three on the Council—one from each Clan—and they have the final say on all witch matters. No one outside of Council members ever meets them, unless you’ve broken our most sacred law and exposed magic to Regs.
Like I did with Gemma.
A tremble of fear courses through me. Most witches who are brought before the Elders don’t leave with their magic intact. I hang the bag of blessed herbs and clear my throat. “So, what’s the plan for after? Do you know what options they’re considering?”
“Nothing concrete. There’s been talk of imprisonment. Draining financial resources. A couple key assassinations.” Cal pauses when I let out an involuntary gasp. “They’re trying to wipe us out, Hannah. It’s not like we can invite them to tea and ask nicely.”
The tiny muscles around my eyes tighten, and I feel my expression go hard. Biting words build at the back of my throat. I swallow down the bitterness as best I can. “Trust me, Cal. I remember exactly what Benton did to me. I know they won’t listen to anything we say.”
I can still hear Benton’s voice like it was yesterday. He called me a monster. Said he wanted to give me true humanity by taking away everything that made me an Elemental. And then he blamed me for ruining his plans and tried to burn me alive. I lean against the shelves and sigh. “I wish there was a reset button we could push and make them disappear. Or that we could go back in time and stop them from ever finding out about magic in the first place.”
Cal puts an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll figure something out. I promise.”
I lean into his touch and will myself to believe him.
* * *
While I wait for Gemma to finish her lesson, the shop gets too busy to talk with Cal. I wander the aisles while he works, straightening rows of candles while I wait for another opening. I’ll need to be more direct, since asking if the Council needed any help didn’t have the desired effect.
But by the time Gem finishes her lesson, I still haven’t found my opening. She emerges from Lauren’s private room brimming with energy. Her smile dims when she spots me. “Why do you have Veronica Face?”
“I don’t.” I glare at her when a passing tourist gives us an odd look. “Veronica Face isn’t a thing.”
Gemma holds up her hand and ticks off each argument on her fingers. “Your brow is pinched. You’re scowling. And you look like someone kicked a puppy. That’s your classic post-breakup expression.” My best friend gasps softly and swings closer on her crutches. “You didn’t break up with Morgan, did you?”
“Morgan and I are fine,” I assure her. Strangely, so are Veronica and I these days. After everything that happened with Benton this summer—him kidnapping her, me getting caught trying to rescue her, both of us nearly dying—we decided to give our friendship a clean slate. A friendship informed by the mistakes we made while dating, but not defined by them. At least, that’s the goal.
“Well, it’s definitely something,” Gem insists. “You know you can trust me.”
“I know, but I can’t talk about it here.” Those dual feelings of excitement and disappointment rear up again. I should be happy about the raid tonight. No other witch should have to go through what I did, but I can’t stop wishing I was part of it. Wishing I could be the one to destroy the drug that stole my magic and gave it back broken and wrong.
Fresh shame claws up my chest, using my ribs like a jungle gym. The drug only affected me like this. Veronica’s magic returned after only a few weeks. I don’t understand why mine is almost impossible to reach, and when I do manage to push hard enough to touch the elements, it hurts too much to use. I don’t get why three of the elements stay so far out of reach while even the smallest fire consumes my attention and trails across my awareness like barbed wire on bare skin.
“Hannah . . .”
“Gemma . . .” I imitate her concerned tone, which only makes her scowl at me. “We’ll talk later, I promise. Are you ready to go?”
She shakes her head. “I want to get some amethyst before we leave. Lauren said it could help enhance my tarot reading.”
I glance toward the register where Lauren keeps the handmade crystal jewelry. The deity candles burn steadily, and I falter. “I’ll wait for you over here, if that’s okay.” I hope she can’t hear the fear that makes my voice tremble.
My best friend gives me a curious look that tells me she definitely noticed. “I’ll be quick,” she promises.
Behind me, the bells jingle as the front door swings open. Reflexively, I turn to see who has come in. A white guy who looks around my age, with floppy brown hair and hazel eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses, enters the shop. He isn’t the kind of guy I normally expect to find in a place like this, dressed in crisp khakis and a maroon polo.
He scans the room, and something flickers across his expression when he spots me. He pulls out his phone, flipping through a few screens before settling his gaze on me again.
Nerves twist in my gut.
Cal appears from an aisle over and approaches the dark-haired boy. “Can I help you find something?”
“Actually . . .” The guy doesn’t even look at Cal, too busy glancing from his phone to me. “I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
Another customer calls for Cal, and once he’s occupied, the guy closes the space between us. “You’re Hannah Walsh, right?”
I tense when my name passes his lips. “Sorry. You have the wrong girl.” I brush past him and head back down the book aisle. Fucking news stories. He was probably looking at a photo from one of the articles. I wonder which channel or wannabe investigative blogger spilled that I work here.
That I used to work here.
The dark-haired guy appears around the other side of the aisle, an easy smile curving his lips. His posture is open and relaxed, like he’s used to getting his way. “So, Not Hannah. I assume it wouldn’t interest you to learn that Benton Hall’s lawyers intend to argue self-defense.” He pauses, and his words are like ice in my veins. “If you’re not her, I suppose you don’t care that they plan to expose every facet of Hannah’s life to the public. They may even drag her new girlfriend in to testify.”
I whirl on him. “What do you want from me? How do you even know about her?”