----------------------------------------
“She’s fine, Dawson,” Jason assured his friend as they stumbled into The Brew. They had all piled into Angelo’s truck and taken the backroads to Harvest Grove, knowing the explosion would attract authorities. They needed to ensure they weren’t connected to the incident. No one had said a word when Sam and Harper had used their last bit of energy to create a fire behind them (“Air around us, give life to fire”). The blaze would hopefully conceal the bodies and any evidence of their presence.
“We’re not sure how we’ll explain the body at Sam’s place,” Harper said, glancing worriedly at the stairway leading to the upstairs apartment. “And we have to hope no one connects us to the two bodies on the highway.”
“She used a tremendous amount of magic tonight,” Harper added, worry creasing her brow. “More than any of us, and we’re barely able to stay awake as it is.”
“Her pulse is strong. She’s just sleeping,” Angelo declared, bandaging Sam’s hands after applying a poultice of mud and herbs. The group was catching up on what had happened to each of them until their escape. “Sleep is the body’s way of healing. She might not wake up until tomorrow.”
“How do we explain that to her dad?” Dawson asked, pacing. “How do we explain any of this? Angelo, you ran out after the guy and your mom called the police, and Sam, you killed the guy, and your mom called the police! They’re going to be looking for you!” He groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “I can get away with my crash—I-I can say I called someone to pick me up.”
“Me,” Angelo declared. “I’ll say I went to pick you up. That’ll be my alibi.”
“Well, I’m screwed then,” Sam chuckled darkly, leaning hard against the sofa. “I have no alibi except my mom, who wants to strangle me on her better days.”
“It’s been taken care of,” a voice declared from the door, causing them to turn in shock. Clarissa stood there, calm and composed.
“Aunt Clarissa!” Harper gasped, standing and running to her, hugging her tightly.
“There, there, darling,” Clarissa soothed, hugging her close while her eyes scanned the room. “Maya?”
“Upstairs,” Dawson motioned with his head. “She’s sleeping. Exhausted.”
“She’s the least trained of you all. It’s not surprising this took so much out of her,” Clarissa said with a nod.
“How do you know what happened?” Harper pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Because I was tipped off,” Clarissa frowned. “I just didn’t think it would happen tonight. Talk about the last minute.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam stood, eyes narrowed. “Why would the Witch-Hunters tip you off?”
“Oh, honey,” Clarissa shook her head with a sigh. “Those weren’t Witch-Hunters.”
A deep silence fell over them.
“What?” Jason stood rapidly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “If they weren’t the Witch-Hunters, then who the hell were they and why did they try to kill us?”
Harper hugged herself tightly, backing away. “Aunt Clarissa?”
Clarissa took a deep breath, her expression serious. “I don’t remember if I’ve told you this, but while there are many covens in this world, our coven is closely tied to two others—all of us direct descendants of the surviving witch families from the Salem Burning Times.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Angelo frowned, confusion etched on his face. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“The two other covens have experienced similar attacks,” Clarissa explained, her voice steady. “According to my sources, one coven was attacked by the Witch-Hunters on Halloween and somehow managed to survive. Another coven was also hit, but like tonight, it wasn’t by the Witch-Hunters. The other covens that I know of haven’t been targeted. Just our three.”
“What are you saying?” Dawson stepped closer, his curiosity piqued.
“What’s so special about our three covens?” Sam narrowed his eyes. “It has to be more than the fact that we’re descendants of the Salem Witches.”
Clarissa led Harper back towards the group, her eyes scanning their faces. “Each of the three covens contains some of the most powerful families. Word is that something happened during the Witch-Hunter’s attack against the Tybee Harbor coven that caught someone else’s attention. The hits on our coven and the other were made to mimic Witch-Hunter attacks. Whoever is behind this is searching for something, but no one is sure what.”
She paused, licking her lips. “Was there a survivor from your attackers?”
The group nodded in unison.
Clarissa sighed, sinking down onto the sofa. “Then whoever orchestrated this attack already has what they wanted.”
----------------------------------------
Jason’s parents had him on lockdown, and other than school hours, they kept him at home under strict supervision. They’d figured out he’d snuck out the night of the deaths and, putting two and two together, realized their son was involved with more than just hanging out with the descendants of Mrs. Ross’ old coven. Everyone had tried calling Jason, but Mr. or Mrs. Ross would curtly inform them that Jason was unable to talk, adding that they were praying for the coven.
Clarissa had even gone over to try and talk to them, but she’d returned to the Brew, slamming the door behind her and staying locked inside for hours. The sounds of breaking objects made it clear to everyone that things hadn’t gone well at all.
Things between Sam and his mother were tentative at best. She wasn’t handling the revelation of her “magical son” very well, and Sam resented her watchful silence more than her previous slurs. He preferred the fights to the cold distance now between them.
Harper was pushing herself harder than ever, blaming herself for being unprepared and caught off guard. The scolding she’d received from her aunt for being “saved” by the others had hit her hard. She’d quit cheerleading, taken on night shifts at the Shack, and abandoned all her other activities, focusing solely on her magical studies.
Maya was grounded. Her father had caught onto the fact that she’d snuck out, and despite convincing him that she’d been over at Harper’s (with help from Clarissa), she was still grounded for sneaking out.
The only good thing to come from all this was that Mr. and Mrs. Woods had decided to support Dawson’s magical learnings. They’d even given him Dawson’s Book of Shadows. There were conditions, of course, and Dawson was now being trained by his mother as well as by Clarissa, but things were looking up for him.
Angelo, however, felt like nothing had happened to him. After everything, he’d stumbled home to find his father finally back from the bar. After warning him in no uncertain terms about what would happen if he ever touched his mother again, Angelo had locked his bedroom door and slept like the dead.
Days passed before any of them could walk without sagging shoulders and dragging feet. Coach had been furious at practice today, and Angelo wasn’t sure how Duncan was going to explain the burnt handprint on his arm. Shaking his head, Angelo pulled on his hoodie, not wearing his Crows jersey for once.
“Angelo!”
He groaned, turning as Millie Rosette hurried towards him. “What?”
The girl who had once been Harper’s shadow, her wannabe-twin, stopped in front of him, making a face. “Why isn’t Harper doing cheerleading anymore? I always used to be able to talk to her after practice, but now she’s not going anymore, and I don’t get to see her.”
He really didn’t care. “She’s busy.”
“Doing what?” Millie pushed. “I’ve seen her hanging out with you and some others. If she’s so busy she can’t hang out with me anymore, why does she still have time to hang out with you guys?”
“Ask her.” He turned, tired and annoyed, not in the mood to deal with Millie’s obsession with Harper.
“I would if she’d actually give me two seconds!” Millie snapped at his back before snarling and storming away.
Angelo shook his head, wanting nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a couple of days straight. Frustrated and annoyed, he couldn’t sleep properly anymore. There were too many questions in his mind, and he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. If they hadn’t been attacked by Witch-Hunters, and if Clarissa was right about another player in the game, then there were fewer and fewer reasons to sleep.
What could someone have gained from attacking them if the plan wasn’t to kill them?
“I’m impressed.”
Angelo paused by the half-open door of the Chronicle, wondering who had stayed behind with Maya after school. He peeked inside, his curiosity piqued.