Wild is the Witch (10)

But that night with Amy changed everything. No one believed that Alex truly wanted to be turned into a witch. No one believed that it was a misguided plan borne of first love. And no one believed that I wasn’t involved.

The narrative quickly became that of dark intention, of two witches having fun with the unsuspecting high school boy, and it spread like wildfire, burning through the whole town. We couldn’t escape it. Even after my trial, after the Witches’ Council let me go and the town knew the verdict, nothing changed. It only got worse.

We tried to weather it, to ignore it all and get on with our lives, but we couldn’t. That night by the lake followed me everywhere I went. It followed my parents everywhere they went.

So we decided to leave.

I knew as soon as we started talking about it that Dad’s heart wasn’t in it. Even prior to that night, Dad had been suggesting I stop spending time with Amy and make new friends—friends who weren’t witches. He asked my mom to stop her work with the exotic animal rescue and try to get involved in other things. Normal things to go along with the normal life he worked so hard for.

And when it came down to it, he didn’t want to leave. We’d had to move once before, when my grandmother accidentally set the house on fire with a spell gone wrong. Insurance wouldn’t cover the damage, so we packed up and moved to a small town in Nebraska where the cost of living was lower and we could start over.

I think that’s when he stopped thinking magic was wondrous and started to resent it instead.

Dad loved that town. He loved his job and the white picket fence and the Toyota Camry that sat in the driveway. He loved the stability and routine, and when it came down to it, he loved those things more than he loved us.

So we left, and he stayed.

And the thing that kills me is that now what I want more than anything else in the world is to stay here. And I don’t know how to be angry at him when I want the exact same thing he did.

To stay.

Mom and Sarah are still downstairs talking, and I finish my tea and get ready for bed. But I can’t sleep. I’m frustrated that, after everything, Mom can be so casual about Pike Alder, that she can be so sure he’ll never find out who we are. He’s a danger to us, and she isn’t fazed by it at all.

I never used to have secrets, and now I cling to them as if they’re my lifeline. Ever since we got here, I try to make up for everything we lost. I try to protect us. I try to ensure that we can stay here for the rest of our lives. But Mom isn’t a worrier, she’s relaxed and easygoing, and I feel like I’m constantly having to compensate for that. Even after everything that happened in our last town, she wouldn’t be hiding the fact that we’re witches if it weren’t for me. She does it because she knows it’s what I want, knows it makes me feel more secure. But she’d never choose this on her own.

I don’t think we have the luxury of being easygoing, though, and every time my mom tells me to relax, it makes me want to tighten my control even more.

I hear the front door close, followed by an engine starting and tires rolling down the gravel driveway. Moments later, Mom’s footsteps echo up the stairs and pause in front of my door. She quietly turns the knob, and I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep, not wanting her to know that the worries she wishes I didn’t have are keeping me awake.

She softly shuts my door and walks down the hall to her room. The house is quiet except for the sounds in the walls as the temperature cools and the house settles.

I close my eyes once more, but all I see is Pike leaning into me, his voice cold and mean, his eyes too intense for comfort.

I know I should let it go, breathe it out and try to get some sleep, but my heart is racing and my mind is awake, filling with worry and nerves and unease.

After another half hour of unsuccessfully falling asleep, I get out of bed and get dressed. I quietly slip out of my room and walk down the stairs, pausing at the front door to make sure my mom didn’t wake. Her room remains quiet, and I pull on my jacket and boots before grabbing a flashlight and heading out into the night.

If Mom is going to insist that Pike continues his internship, I have to find a way not to care as much. I have to stop my dislike of him from growing stronger than it already is. I have to find a way to ease my worries, and as I walk toward the cottage out back, my body thrums with excitement, the magic inside me anticipating what’s to come.

It doesn’t matter that I just wrote a spell for Amy. Pike’s words settled under my skin, and I haven’t been able to focus since he said them. So tonight, under the cover of darkness, I’ll give Pike Alder to the earth.

I’ll write a spell I’ll never use and let the ritual of it ground me, release my fear so I can move on.

And since the spell will vanish before it’s ever used, it can match the tone of Pike Alder’s voice.

It can be mean.





Four


The night is cold and clear. Thousands of stars shine overhead, and I turn off my flashlight and tilt my head back. I can see the Milky Way, the echoes of white in a pitch-dark sky, and I take a breath as if the entire universe can fill my lungs.

Winds from the Pacific collide with the tops of the spruce trees, sending them back and forth, swaying in an otherwise silent night. I pull my jacket tighter around my torso and walk to the workbench outside the cottage.

A small, dirty lamp hangs from the gutter, and I tug on the pull chain. It flickers several times before clicking on, and fluorescent light spills into the night. The lamp buzzes above me, and two moths flit around in circles.