Page 36 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

Micah doesn't blink, staring at his brother in return. That is, until he has to write on the paper to respond. He writes quickly, the scribble of the pen the only noise to be heard in the room. Once he's done, he holds the paper up.

Didn't think it was necessary at the time. I would have told you both earlier, but, as you know, we had an unplanned visit.

Aleric's jaw clenches as soon as he finishes reading the note. Why wouldn't Micah tell them he met me this morning? What does it matter whether he did? And why is Aleric pissed that the meeting took place to begin with? Who visited them and caused Aleric's face to look thunderous?

So many questions and I have no idea where to start. I don't even know if they'll answer them. Or if I actually want to hear the answers. It's been a ridiculously overwhelming evening, and I'm still processing everything little by little for fear of breaking down once more. I don't think I can take much more tonight.

"Guys, drop it," Bishop intercepts. "Can't you see Willow is already struggling? She doesn't need the two of you bickering and confusing her more."

All eyes turn to me, and I feel myself shrinking back into the couch and hiding behind my mug of cocoa. I've never been one for attention, always preferring to hover in the background, content to be invisible to most. This kind of attention isn't any better since I feel like I've been put under a microscope. They all saw the remains of my house. The remains of the dead men inside my ruined home. And yet, not one of them has mentioned it. What are they even thinking? How have they not reacted to the scene they found me in the middle of? They're entirely too calm after witnessing the destruction I know in my heart I caused. Far too calm after finding dead bodies in my house.

Speaking of which...

"What happened to the men in my house?" I ask with a voice as meek as a kitten's meow. I clear my throat and elaborate as if they have no idea what men I'm talking about. "The dead guys? What happened to them? Are they still in my house?"

The questions fly from my mouth so quickly I'm surprised any of them understand me. They do, and Aleric says, "We took care of it. Don't worry."

What the fucking hell doesthatmean? Took care of it? How did theytake care of it?

I can feel panic beginning to bubble in the pit of my stomach, growing bigger and bigger at the thought of these three strangers taking care of a mistake I know I made. It's clear they know that what happened in my house tonight was my own doing, yet I haven’t been hauled away by the police. I haven't been taken in and questioned, charged with murder, however the hell these things work. My question is, why? Have they covered it up? Disposed of the bodies? Do they even know what happened? What couldtaking care of itconsist of?

"Willow, I need you to calm down for me, okay?" Bishop asks, sliding to the edge of his seat and watching my every move closely.

My wide eyes dart to his, my pulse throbbing rapidly with the same panic I felt before blacking out earlier. That's not good. This entire situation isn't good.

The smell of something burning pierces the air, and I can see smoke rising from the corner of my eye. When I look in its direction, I see my arm glowing orange, as though it's a steel rod in a furnace. My panic doubles, and the cup of cocoa falls from my hands, the liquid spilling over the laminate flooring.

"What the hell?" The choked whisper pours from my mouth, my scared eyes watching the orange glow trail further up my arm. The smell of burning intensifies the more I panic, but I don't think there's any way to stop it. My heartbeat is thundering in my chest, a muffled noise buzzing in my ears.

I feel the couch dip beside me, and Aleric muttering, "She's too hot for me to touch. I can't get any closer without her burning me. That's weird. This didn’t happen before. What the hell?"

He sounds completely bewildered, as though he's never experienced something like this. But what does he mean by “happened before”? This has happened in the past?Idon't understand what's happening.I need to understand!

Panicking further, I bolt off the couch and back away, staring at my shaking hands as they shine bright with simmering heat. I look up at the three men watching me with a great deal of worry. It does nothing to calm me, and a haze begins to close over my eyes. Slowly, everything begins to turn various shades of red.Thishas happened before.

Just as my body grows impossibly hotter, there's a chill at my back. The guys tense, and their gazes seem to be lookingbehindme instead ofatme.

I'm about to turn when a raspy voice I've heard before mutters "Sleep" into my ear. Everything fades to black, unconsciousness claiming me as a victim. The last thing I feel is the cold touch of a stranger who doesn't feel so much of a stranger as he should.

Chapter 19

Willow

Whisperedwords wake me from a strange sleep I wasn’t expecting. The muttering of male voices talking draws me from unconsciousness, my mind growing more alert. The remnants of the peculiar dream I'd been having slowly begin to surface; the only remaining memory I have is that of a set of dark gray eyes flanked by three sets of reddened irises.

"...is what's triggering the changes. It'll fade when she learns who she is and accepts what she's capable of. As of right now, her panic is what will draw it out. She has no control yet, nor does she remember what she's done. Her memories will begin to return to her, and the more she changes, the more she'll remember the times she shifts," the rasped voice from before quietly explains. Could he... is he talking aboutme?

My eyes snap open, and I'm suddenly wide awake. I scan my surroundings and find myself in a bedroom that has little decoration. I'm lying on a queen-sized bed, the gray sheets and comforter soft around my body. The walls are scarce, only a clock hanging on the off-white wall opposite the bed. There's a small desk to the left and a stack of books on the floor beside it. Against the right wall are several boxes, clothes spilling out of the two on the top of the stacks.

How the hell did I get here? The last thing I remember is... panicking and heating up like a furnace. Everything is blank after that.

"And you didn't think to mention that before? She killed four men tonight without batting an eye. The kills were flawless and certainly something expected of her. Yet she was frightened out of her damn mind when we got to her," a different voice says. Could that be Aleric? It certainly holds the same anger it usually does.

"Brother. Remember your place," Bishop's deep timbre says, louder than the others. Quieter, he adds, "We were sent here to protect. We're not here to question our higher authority."

They're definitely speaking about me. My stomach drops when Aleric confirms my horrified thoughts, my hand sliding over my mouth to stop the sounds of despair begging to be released. I killed those men. But why don't I remember how? There's a huge gaping hole in my memories that should tell me what happened tonight, but the more I try to reach them, the further they seem. Only snippets of visions are plaguing my mind.

Morbid curiosity draws me near the discussion, and I find myself stripping my body of the comforter. Confused and in desperate need of answers, I carefully climb out of the bed, my feet sinking into soft carpet. On the tips of my toes, I creep closer to the closed door and press my ear against the wood to listen in on the conversation at hand.

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