This Coven Won't Break Read online

  Fresh nerves turn my stomach. Jury selection begins in less than a month. Twelve strangers who will determine his fate.

  And mine.

  Gemma heads for her locker on the other side of the school, and I look for a distraction. “Are you nervous?” Since it’s Morgan’s first day at Salem High, I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like she swallowed a migration of butterflies this morning.

  Morgan shrugs, a movement so graceful that walking beside her makes me feel like a robot, all stiff limbs and mechanical expressions. “I miss my friends,” she says as we turn a corner. “But it could be worse. I have Gemma and Kate and the other people from dance.” Morgan tucks a red curl behind her ear. “You’re not half-bad, either.”

  “That’s the goal. A half-decent girlfriend and a not-terrible friend.”

  She laughs and watches the locker numbers tick up and up until we reach hers. It takes her two tries to spin the combination correctly, but soon the door pulls free with a violent shudder. “You know you’re great.”

  “If you say so.” I lean against the locker beside hers and reach for my necklace. I’m still not used to the way she tosses out compliments like she has an infinite supply. I run the bit of black tourmaline crystal along its thin silver chain. The crystal was a gift from my boss, Lauren, and Mom empowered the stone to increase its calming and protective qualities.

  Before she can reply, two boys turn the corner and walk down the hall toward us. “Did you seriously spend the whole summer doing community service? That sucks, dude.”

  Nolan Abbott, soccer star and all-around asshole, has the audacity to soak up his friend’s sympathy. “It was shit. I tried to do my hours at the animal shelter, but that stupid cop wouldn’t go for it. He made me pick up trash and scrub graffiti like a delinquent.”

  I barely suppress a laugh, and it comes out as an undignified snort. Detective Ryan Archer is not only the “stupid cop” who busted Nolan for smashing a rock through my front window, he’s also the Caster Witch who helped rescue me from a fiery death. Archer denied Nolan’s shelter pick on my request. Nolan didn’t deserve to spend a summer walking puppies.

  Unfortunately, my moment of petty satisfaction attracts Nolan’s attention. He glances up, and when he spots me for the first time, his expression goes stormy. “Something funny?”

  “Besides your face?”

  Nolan scowls. “Sick burn. Did Benton teach you that when he tied you to a stake and set you on fire?”

  His words drain the blood from my face and leave my knees weak.

  Morgan slams the locker and props the books on her hip, pressing her free hand against the small of my back. Blood Magic floods my system, invisible to them but numbing the rising pain and panic that’s threatening to swallow me whole. It blots out the memories before they can fully form, leaving nothing but wisps of smoke in their wake. “Come on, Hannah. He’s not worth it.”

  I let her steer me away, but even with her power flowing through my veins, I can’t stop my hands from shaking. I’m okay. I’m safe. I force myself to breathe, inhaling for five steps, exhaling for ten. Benton’s in jail. I’m okay. By the time we make it to my locker, my fingers are steady enough to spin the combination and store my things inside.

  “You can let go,” I whisper as we head toward our homerooms, which are across the hall from each other. Morgan isn’t touching me anymore, but she must know what I mean. Her magic falls away, leaving my jagged nerves exposed again. “Thank you.”

  The softest shadow of a smile graces her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m good. I promise.” I step back toward my homeroom, the last few stragglers maneuvering around us. “I’ll see you at your locker before lunch?”

  She nods and slips into her class as the final bell rings. I hurry in before the clanging stops, and all eyes turn to me. The silence is heavy with expectation.

  I force a smile and ease down the aisle, finding a seat near the back. My whole body is tense under the weight of their attention, but I keep my spine straight. I remind myself to breathe. Remind myself not to feel too strongly. I hide my still trembling hands under the desk.

  I’m okay. I can do this.

  If I can survive the Witch Hunters, I can survive high school.

  2

  BY THE END OF our short three-day week, I’ve settled back into the rhythm of school. My lack of an epic meltdown has calmed the gawking stares down to curious glances, and people stop going quiet every time I enter a room.

  On Friday, while most of my classmates prepare to spend their first weekend getting wasted at Nolan’s newly renovated home, I’m driving Gemma somewhere I didn’t expect to visit this year: the Fly by Night Cauldron.

  After everything that happened this summer, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to work. As much as I love my boss, Lauren, and the freedom of having my own paycheck, I couldn’t fit in Cauldron shifts and find a way to fight the Witch Hunters. Something had to give.

  But when Gem complained at lunch that her mom couldn’t drive her to the Cauldron, where she’s been studying Wicca with Lauren, I saw an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

  Cal, my former Cauldron coworker and a junior agent for the Council, works most Fridays after his classes at Salem State. If I can convince him that I should be allowed to join the fight, maybe he can get the rest of the Council on my side, too. Mom won’t be able to stop me if the entire Council wants me on board.

  She won’t be able to prevent me from taking down the people who hurt us—starting with Benton’s parents.

  The Halls have evaded capture so far, by both the police and the Council, but I intend to be there when they’re finally brought in. I squeeze the necklace Lauren gave me after my dad died, trying to absorb its strength.

  He didn’t just die, a small voice inside corrects, he was murdered. Something cold slithers through my veins. Hatred, maybe. Grief.

  We pull into the parking garage, and Gemma fidgets in her seat. “Are you sure you aren’t mad that I’m doing this?” It’s the fifth time she’s asked since she started her lessons with Lauren over the summer. There’s a new urgency to her tone, probably because this is the first time we’ll be in the shop together.

  I don’t answer right away, focusing instead on backing into a spot. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Gemma studying Wicca. It’s certainly none of my business, and I’m happy that she’s found a religion that speaks to her, but it’s still . . . a little weird.

  “I’m not mad,” I say at last, when the car is parked and I don’t have any more excuses to delay.

  “Well, that wasn’t very convincing.” She grabs her bag and follows me out of the car. “If it bothers you, I could have found a different ride.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Really, it’s okay.” We maneuver through narrow sidewalks packed with tourists who are already sporting black robes and pointed witch hats, even though it’s almost two months until Halloween. The sun is still hot overhead, warm enough that a small bead of sweat trails down my spine.

  Across the street from the shop, we pause to wait for the light to turn. I try again to convince my best friend that things are fine. “I swear I’m not mad, Gem. It’s just that I had a whole church-and-state thing with this stuff. It’s weird to be bringing you here instead of the dance studio.”

  Gemma nods and turns away without saying anything, and I mentally kick myself. She always gets like this whenever Morgan or I mention dance. Before the car crash, Gemma lived and breathed ballet and modern and tap. She had the rare combination of innate talent and the drive to work harder than everyone else anyway. She could have gotten into any dance conservatory she wanted, and her dream of dancing on Broadway always seemed a matter of when, not if. That all changed when the guardrail smashed into her door and crushed her leg. Despite her age and how hard she works in physical therapy, the doctors haven’t b
een overly encouraging about her ability to recover in time to audition this year. If she ever does.

  Before I can apologize, the lights turn and we follow the crowd across the street. I pull open the door and bells jingle above me. I smile at the familiar sound, letting the soothing lavender incense draw me into the shop.

  I spot Lauren working behind the register, where she’s converted the back counter into some kind of altar. Beautifully carved wooden statues of the Horned God and Triple Goddess sit at the center of the counter with large gold and silver pillar candles burning beside their respective deity.

  Even from across the room, the flicker of the small flames brushes against my skin. I try to ignore the sensations, but they push and push and push until I can’t block them out. Suddenly, I’m back in the woods again. My legs are bound to a stake. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Fire presses against my skin, looking for a way past my compromised Elemental power. Smoke fills my lungs. Tears blur my vision as darkness crowds in and—

  “Hannah.” Gemma’s urgent whisper pulls me back to the present, and I find her fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I can barely choke the word out. It scrapes like ash and rock across my tongue as I press the heels of my hands against my eyelids. Coming here was a mistake. I need Morgan. My nerves are too raw and exposed without her.

  No. I shove memories into a mental box and lock it tight. You can do this. You have to be okay if you want to fight. Just find Cal. Slowly, the tension leaves my body. I still step farther away from the candles though.

  Lauren turns around, and her face lights up when she spots us loitering by the door. “Hannah, I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She’s all warmth and concern as she approaches. Lauren isn’t a member of the Witch Clans, but as a Wiccan high priestess, she has her own kind of power. Different from ours, less dramatic, but still real. It’s that power Gem is so excited to harness for herself. “How are you?”

  I shrug and find my fingers reaching for the necklace again. “I’m okay.”

  Her gaze drops to the tourmaline that she gifted me, a sad smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “You’ve been missed, Hannah. Please know you’re welcome back anytime.”

  Warmth spreads through me, but I don’t see myself coming back. Not while there are Hunters to fight. “Thank you,” I say, not committing to anything.

  “Now, Gemma,” Lauren says, shifting her focus. “Are you ready to discuss the wheel of the year?”

  Gem casts me a glance before she nods and follows Lauren to the back of the shop, where they disappear into the private reading room. It’s usually occupied by tarot clients, but she uses it for her students, too.

  Once they’ve disappeared, I go looking for Cal. I find him along the opposite wall, wearing an orange Cauldron T-shirt, dark jeans, and black-and-white Converse. He’s buzzed the sides of his head since I last saw him, his blond hair still perfectly floppy on top. Cal is busy restocking the hand-packaged potion ingredients that Lauren blesses herself, but he stops to hug me tight as I approach. When he pulls away, I notice dark circles under his eyes that stand out against his pale skin.

  “Are you okay?” I cringe as the question passes my lips. I know more than most how irritating it can be.

  Cal reaches for another packet of dried herbs, this one labeled To Bring Prosperity. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” I settle beside him and pick up a shiny black bag that promises maximum protection. I run my finger along the gold pentacle emblazoned beneath the text. “Is everything going okay with the you-know-what?”

  I haven’t heard much about the Council’s plans, but I know they intend to destroy the drug that temporarily stole my magic, including every bit of research it took to cook it up.

  Somehow.

  Cal glances behind us to make sure no one is close enough to overhear. He hangs up a handful of Opening Your Inner Eye potions, checks over his shoulder one more time, and then leans close. “There’s a raid happening tonight, actually.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “We found out where the Hunters are manufacturing the drug. There’s a team out of Boston in charge of infiltration and destruction.” A shimmer of hope lights Cal’s expression, and a confusing mix of excitement and disappointment floods through me. Even though I know it’s an irrational hope, I wanted to be part of whatever happens next. I wanted to be the one to destroy the drug that changed my entire life.

  “That’s great.” My enthusiasm sounds false even to my ears.

  Cal nods, but his smile falters. “Archer and I wanted to go with them, but our orders are to continue watching over your coven in case of retaliation.”

  A shiver of fear makes my fingers tremble. I reach for another black bag, this one promising to spice up the bedroom, and squeeze tight to stop the shaking. “What happens once the drug is gone? Is there anything I can do?” I mentally cross my fingers and hope I don’t sound as desperate as I feel.

  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 br
eak 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.