Page 10 of The Secret Life of a Witch

“Why? Is it because …?” Fear pulsates through my veins. “Did something happen to my parents?”

He hastily shakes his head but won’t look me in the eye. “No. It’s not that bad.”

I trip over the threshold as I follow him into the small kitchen area, the teal countertops littered with dirty dishes and empty food containers. “If it’s not that bad, then just tell me.”

“I can’t.” He rakes his free hand through his hair and casts a glance over his shoulder at me. Worry consumes his expression, causing my stomach to drop. He must see the fear in my eyes because he hastily adds, “Not until I look into it more and find out exactly what happened. Once I have, then I’ll show you.” He tucks the newspaper under his arm and begins opening cupboards. “Now, what are you craving this morning for breakfast? Popping cereal? Glittering eggs? Oh, if you want, I can make you some of my famous magic juiced donuts?”

“Thanks, but those make me really jittery. Too much magic, I think. And besides, I already ate. Remember the soggy cereal?”

He opens the cupboard above the stove. “Still, you should eat something better than that.”

While his back is turned to me, I move up and tickle the crap out of him.

Letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, he drops the paper as he stumbles forward. I feel a tad bit bad when heknocks his hip against the edge of the counter, but not enough to not read what’s on the paper.

“Another dead body stolen! Ryleigh Witcherford’s, who reportedly died a couple of weeks ago, body has gone missing.”

“What the freakin’ giggling sprites?” I gape at the headline staining the top of the paper. “How did this get reported … especially when my sister’s body isn’t …?” The paper falls from my hands as I realize that sometimes the news prints fast in Mystic Willow May and that the article might carry some truth.

I spin around and run for the basement door.

“Eva, wait!” Hunter calls out. “Let me go down there first, just in case something dangerous is still down there.”

I keep running, not slowing down until I reach the bottom of the crooked stairway. I need to see for myself if the article holds any truth. Then I screech to an alarmed halt.

“No, no, no, no … This isn’t right. I must be dreaming.”

No matter how many times I deny what’s right in front of me, the steel table where my sister lay only moments ago remains empty.

EVALEE

“Evalee!” Hunter shouts as he barrels down the stairs. “Why can’t you ever just listen …?” The rest of the scolding dies on his tongue as he reaches the bottom of the stairway and spots me standing beside the empty table. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is sure right,” I mumble hollowly, too much in shock to cry. I know it will come later when I’m all alone and this catches up with me. I won’t be able to turn the waterworks off then. “She’s gone, and it’s all my fault.”

His gaze drifts between the table and me as he cautiously makes his way across the room. When he reaches my side, he slips his arm around me and pulls me closer. “It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could’ve known this was going to happen.”

“Maybe not in a psychic way, but I’ve been reading the articles about the body stealer for weeks now.” I swallow hard as I press my hand to the table.So cold.“And I read in the paper this morning that another one was stolen from the morgue. I should’ve put more charms up. I said I was going to, but I got distracted.”By stupid, silly crushes.“Or, at least put better ones up to begin with. If I was a more powerful witch, I?—”

“No,” he cuts me off, placing a finger over my lips. “I’m not going to let you go there.”

“How do you know where I was going?” My lips move against his finger.

“Because it’s the same place you go every single time.” He removes his finger. “Every time something goes wrong, you go straight to blaming your powers … even if what’s happening has nothing to do with you.”

I stare at the steel table where my sister lay only minutes ago. “This has to do with me. I chose to dig Ryleigh up after our parents buried her. And by doing that, I chose to be responsible for her safety.”

He fixes a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him. “You didn’t know someone was going to go on a stealing bodies spree when you chose to dig her up.”

“Even if I did, I still would’ve dug her up.”

“Of course you would’ve; she was your older sister. And I’m sure, if most people had your gift, they’d have done the same.” He traces his finger beneath my iridescent eye, another reminder of just how different I am.

“You’re the only witch ever known to have that eye color,” my sister told me once when I was younger and griping about how kids at school called me Freaky Rainbow Eyes. “That doesn’t make you a freak. Those kids are just jealous.”

At the time, I truly believed her words, but as I grew older and the teasing increased, it became harder and harder to convince myself that I wasn’t a freak. Still, I loved my sister for always trying to convince me otherwise.

She was the best biggest sister ever.

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