At first, it was just a nagging feeling, like a tiny spark flickering in the back of Clarissa's mind. She'd brushed it off, forcing a smile at Mr. Jasonerson as he picked up his usual Tuesday rose—a gesture for his lucky wife, who was thriving in her business. Clarissa was a rock, impervious to minor aches or stress. Nothing would get in the way of her success.
But as Mr. Jasonerson left, the spark ignited into a blaze. Clarissa tried to take a deep breath, only to find herself gripping the counter as the heat inside her surged, morphing from discomfort to intense, burning agony. She bent over, crying out in pain, her vision blurring as she sank to the floor.
"Harper!"
The call was faint, lost amid the fog of her suffering. Harper’s footsteps echoed urgently down the hallway as she chased after the sound, her heart heavy with guilt. Avoiding Millie had been a difficult decision, driven by Aunt Clarissa’s explicit orders and the need to stay focused after the recent attack. But that didn’t make Harper feel any less like a terrible friend.
“Harper,” Millie gasped, finally catching up and placing a hand on Harper's shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Harper forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey, Millie.”
“Are you avoiding me?” Millie’s eyes narrowed, her tone direct and unyielding. “Did I do something to upset you? Did I mess up our friendship?”
“No,” Harper replied, her voice laden with regret. She gently placed her hand over Millie’s. “I’m sorry if it seems that way. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, which is why I’ve had to step back. I even quit cheerleading and my job at the Shack.”
“I get that,” Millie mumbled, stepping closer. “But I’ve seen you with those new people and Maya Burns. If you have time for them, why not for me?”
Harper struggled to find the right words, trying to keep the specifics of her situation under wraps. “I’m working on a special project, and they’re part of it.”
Millie’s eyes brightened. “I could help too!”
Harper’s expression softened, but she shook her head. “Our project only needs six people, and Maya’s the sixth.”
“Maya?” Millie’s face twisted into a scowl. “Is she your new best friend now?”
“Millie,” Harper sighed, trying to calm the rising tension.
“Is it because I dress like you? Am I too clingy? Or is it just that you like her better because she’s blonde and ‘plucky’?”
“No, it’s not like that at all.” Harper took a step towards her. “This has nothing to do with who I like more.”
“Then why is she in the group and not me?” Millie’s voice was edged with anger.
“It wasn’t my decision,” Harper said, feeling the sting of her own words. She wished she could explain, but she knew she couldn’t without revealing everything. “I can’t change who’s involved.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Then whose decision was it?” Millie demanded, her frustration evident. “Tell me something, Harper! Or—” Her words choked off as she began to cough violently, her face flushing an alarming pink.
“Millie? What’s happening?” Harper’s voice trembled as she reached out, panic rising in her chest. She barely had time to react as the intensity of Millie’s condition hit her like a physical force. She staggered, clutching at the lockers for support as the same inferno of pain surged through her own body, making her knees buckle.
-----
Conner's eyes were locked on Otis and Mandy, who clutched each other's hands tightly, their faces contorted in pain. The agony was palpable, and their muted cries filled the air, adding to the tension that surged around them. Conner's frustration boiled over, and he felt a surge of anger, not just at the situation, but at Otis and Mandy themselves. His rage was raw and unfocused, a stark contrast to the silent suffering of his friends.
“How can you justify killing witches?” Casandra’s voice was laced with horror as she confronted her father, her fear masked by a fierce determination.
Austen’s gaze was cold, his expression almost dismissive. “Because they’re weak,” he said with a sneer, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Their weakness has made us victims for two thousand years. It’s time for a cleansing.” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with conviction. “We’re going to scorch the earth, burn away the weak blood, and clear the way for something greater.”
“For what?” Casandra’s voice was soft, her heart pounding as she braced herself for the truth she had longed to understand.
Austen’s face twisted into a dark grin. “For the other James children,” he declared. “There are four more, born in different towns, raised in different Covens. They’re coming here to join you.”
The revelation hit Casandra like a thunderclap. Four more? She had been expecting one, but four was beyond anything she had imagined. Her mind struggled to process the magnitude of it.
“Jake’s grandfather was right,” Eliane muttered, her voice barely a whisper as she shook her head. “You’re trying to form a Coven of James witches.”
“Exactly.” Austen’s voice was breathless, almost reverent. “A perfect Coven, the purest lineage. Together, you’ll be a force more powerful than any crystal skull.” His tone grew subdued, but his eyes shone with a fervent light. “We’ll have the power to destroy the Witch-Hunters once and for all... and anything else that stands in our way.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We can change the world. As a family.”
Casandra’s heart skipped a beat. “So, is Maya part of this family too?” she asked, trying to make sense of the fragments of truth. “Is that why I see her? Because she’s a James too?” She met her father’s gaze squarely, her frustration growing. “If she is, she doesn’t seem to know it.”
Austen regarded Casandra with a strange look before his lips curled into a smile. “Maya is your sister,” he said, his tone filled with a dark satisfaction. “But for her safety, she’s been led to believe otherwise.”
Eliane gasped, her breath ragged as she tried to take in the enormity of Austen’s revelations. “Did you ever actually raise any of your children?” Casandra’s voice was sharp, laced with bitterness.
Austen chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. “I think you’ll like Maya,” he said, ignoring her question. “She has a spirit much like yours.”
Casandra felt overwhelmed by the revelations and struggled to find words. The skull on the table behind Austen shifted, drawing his attention. He turned sharply as Andrew stumbled into the room, his face contorted in pain.
“NO!” Austen’s voice was a thunderous command as he raised his hand, sending Andrew crashing violently into the wall.
“Andrew!” Casandra and Eliane shouted in unison, their voices tinged with desperation.
Andrew landed heavily on the floor, his body writhing in agony. His skin seemed to burn from within, the spell’s effects visibly scorching him.
“The spell’s burning him!” Casandra shouted, turning to Eliane with wide, terrified eyes. “It’s burning all of them!”