Page 21 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

She turns to face outside again, but I don't miss the way she shakes her head like she’s trying to get a grip of herself. I smother a snort, deciding to shove earphones in for the next fifteen minutes since Bishop is driving like if he goes any faster, we'll die. He's going twenty-five in a thirty. I know the rain is coming down real heavy and all, but come on.

I scroll through the phone I acquired as soon as we found where we were staying, flicking through its contents until I see the music app I know Willow uses regularly. I'm beyond grateful that all three of us kept up with technology over the years since its advancement has been amazing. We'd be royally screwed if we hadn't since the world changes so much in a stupidly short amount of time.

Scrolling through the Spotify playlist I know Willow adds songs to most, I press shuffle and sit back while my eyes close as soon as the first song plays. Begrudgingly, I'll give it to her; she has great taste in music. That was a surprise, but I’m finding most things are with this female.

The remaining drive to Willow's house flies by with the sound of old school pop punk playing through my earbuds. We finally pull up just as “Break Your Little Heart” by All Time Low finishes, so I tuck my phone away and wrap my wires up while the two up front converse a little more.

"Thanks for the ride. Honestly, the thought of walking all that way in this rain was not something that appealed to meat all," Willow rambles, unstrapping her seatbelt and dragging her rain-soaked and matted hair over her shoulders. The move only wafts more of her alluring sent in my direction, and I hold back a groan at the bite of pain when my beast surges forward in an attempt to break free. That motherfu-

"You're welcome, Willow,” Bishop, ever the gentleman, replies. Fuck him and his laid back attitude. And fuck my beast for having a hard on for a woman we can’t have. How is this my internal struggle right now?

Once again, I'm a witness to the woman staving off yet another swoon, more so when my dickhead brother grins at her with his stupid dimples. I shoot a bland look in his direction, one he completely ignores since his focus is on the reason we're here to begin with, feeling pretty damn bitter right about now. Of the three of us, I’m the only one without dimples. Not that it matters since I won’t be smiling at the girl like a lovestruck dickwad. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

And now I’m pissed off all over again.

Willow smiles, looking a little shy andcute, something that should certainly not intrigue me as much as it does. Apparently, I'm as much of a dumbass as my brother, held captive by a pretty smile. Only, because of my inability to keep my head straight, I forget I have Willow's groceries in the back with me. Too late do I realize she's forgotten too when she says, "Well, see ya."

She's out of the car not even a moment later, her purse hanging over her shoulder while she rushes through the rain and up the cobblestone path that leads to her front door. I have to squint to see her figure running through the onslaught of water, her black cardigan the only thing even remotely visible through the sheets of rain that seem to have grown heavier.

"Fuck’s sake," I grumble, shaking my head at myself when I realize I haven't cursed quietly enough for it to escape my brother's hearing.

"What?" he asks, turning his head toward me.

I hold up both bags with one hand, raise an eyebrow at him, and mutter, "Guess who's taking a trip in the rain after all?"

Ignoring his laughter, I open the car door and climb out. I'm soaked in seconds flat. Looking up to the sky and wishing for patience, I growl and drop into a steady jog. No use rushing when my clothes are already drenched, right?

I'm just making my way up the path when I notice the door’s open. It actually looks broken, just barely hanging onto its hinges. What the hell? That can’t be right.

Just as I finish my internal questioning, a frantic Willow comes running back out of the house. She stops just shy of the door, her head swinging back and forth, wide pale eyes searching for something while her hair swishes around her, spraying water as it goes. Through the rain, I can hear her yelling, "MOM?! MOM!"

I hasten my pace, reaching her in only a few long strides. Throwing the bags inside, I only glimpse the trashed hallway through the doorway before focusing on Willow. Who is not in front of me anymore.

Turning around, I find her running down the path, her cardigan hanging off her shoulder with the weight of the rain the material has absorbed. She's still calling for her mother, her movements wild and panicky, so she has no idea that I'm even standing here.

Racing up behind her before she runs off too far, I grip her shoulders and turn her to face me. Her eyes are red, a clear sign she's crying, the rain mingling with the salty drops that I have no doubt are falling. She grips my forearms tightly, her fingers digging into my skin while she looks at me with scared eyes. I'll be struck by the Devil himself if the look she's wearing right now doesn't cause an ache to form in my chest.

"Willow, what is it?" I yell over the storm.

A sob wracks her body, her shoulders jostling in my grip, as she yells back, "My house is trashed, and my mom is missing! I've looked all through the house, but she's not there. She told me she had to leave soon, but she was waiting for me to come home!"

Looking around, I see nothing out of the ordinary, so I lean down closer and tell her, "I'm going to get Bishop. Run back to the house. Bishop and I will be right behind you, but don’t go inside until we’re with you, understand?"

Surprisingly, she doesn't put up a fight. She nods quickly and squeezes my arms one more time before darting back to the house. My eyes track her, watching her reach the door and stand just outside, under the small awning that hangs over her front door so she’s partly out of the rain. It’s not inside as I’d have liked, but given the state the hallway is in, I’m glad she doesn’t step inside the house without one of us with her.

While she waits, I run toward the car, around the hood, and knock on the window. Bishop rolls it down quickly, and I yell, "Someone's been in the house, completely destroyed it, and her mom is missing."

It's all he needs to roll the window back up and quickly exit the car. We both run back through the rain and to the house in record time. Bishop heads inside first, my ass trailing not too far behind, and my blood boils with what I see.

The first glimpse had been nothing compared to what I’m looking at now. The once cream walls have been vandalized, crass pentacles drawn on the walls in various sizes with red paint. There's broken furniture littered everywhere, torn cushions and couch innards strewn over the floor, and broken photo frames and glass discarded throughout the house.

Walking into the kitchen only shows the same destruction: smashed dishes, shredded hand towels, and cutlery thrown everywhere. The small dining table and its accompanying chairs look as though they've been hacked to pieces, wooden shards crowding the space where their remains lie.

Whoever it was did a fucking number on this place.

The house is so quiet, save for the thrumming of the rain on the windows, that it's easy to hear Willow proclaim from upstairs, "What the actual fuck?"

It's the tremor in her voice that has me turning and rushing to find her. I dart up the short set of stairs, skidding to a stop when I see Willow with her hand over her mouth and unshed tears wavering on her eyelids. Bishop has beaten me to her, standing close to her back as they look in on one of the rooms down the short hallway.

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