The Witch Is Back (11 page)

I knew
something
about her was fake.

“Wait, so, I don't understand why you think that you need to make things right with
her
if she was really that awful,” I said, confused. “Sounds like she owes
you
an apology. Not the other way around.”

“I'll get to that in a minute, but first, I have to tell you what broke us up. I want to be honest with you: I liked Brooklyn. A
lot
.” I couldn't help but wince when he said this. Even though I knew that their relationship was in the past, it still hurt to think of him with
her
. “I liked her when nobody else knew who she was. Not only was she my first girlfriend, but she was one of the first witches I ever got close to. I trusted her, even when I began to catch her in lies. But then she started making decisions that hurt other people—innocent people—all so she could fit in with the group of popular kids at our school. We finally broke up when she kissed another guy.”

I could tell the memory hurt him and I wondered how a person could be so messed up that she could cheat on
Asher
. He was practically perfect. Well, as perfect as a teenage boy could be. Still, I could understand Asher's decision to end things immediately. I would've done the same thing. No hesitation.

“While all of this was going on with Brooklyn though, things had started to get weird around my house,” he continued. More people were coming back from dinner now, and Asher and I had to scoot closer together in order for me to hear him without his having to talk too loudly. I reached out hesitantly and took his hand, letting it rest on his leg. “My parents had begun to fight and were having whispered conversations whenever Abby and I were around. They got really over-protective and wanted us home all the time. At first I thought they were having problems in their marriage, even though that didn't make any sense because they never fought.

“The day that Brooklyn and I broke up, I decided to find out what was going on with my parents once and for all. My plan was to confront them both and try to make them work things out—go to therapy or something. But when I got there, my parents were gone, and Samuel Parris was waiting for me. And well, you know the rest.”

I did, and the memory brought back pangs of sadness for every life that was lost at the hands of Samuel Parris and his clan. During the weeks after my mom was killed I'd had dreams and visions, which had made me feel like my mom and I were still connected. But now, there was nothing except the occasional feeling that she was with me. And even that had been diminishing lately.

At least the memory dreams I often had of my relatives' deaths hadn't extended to her yet. It wasn't exactly the way I wanted to remember her. In her last moments, screaming as the flames bit at her skin . . .

I shook my head to try to clear it of the grotesque image I'd just conjured.

“So, I left for my aunt's right after that. I had no idea that Brooklyn tried to meet me that day. I just left. No explanation, no note, no forwarding address. I disappeared and never looked back. Of course, there was a lot going on and I had some pretty rough stuff to deal with, but I still should've at least
e-mailed
her to let her know I was alive. Even though our relationship was over, it didn't mean I didn't still care about her.”

My heart swelled with love for this guy who was so
good
that he worried about an ex's feelings despite everything she'd done. Not many guys his age would care, let alone try to atone for their own misdeeds.

“And then I moved and met you, and my life changed forever. It was
torture
lying to you. Not just because I fell in love with you, but because I know how lies can ruin a relationship. And I know how it feels to be betrayed. That's why I'm grateful every day that you gave me a second chance. You're a more forgiving person than I was, and I feel like I need to learn something from you. Let Brooklyn know that I'm not mad anymore. I can understand why people do things they wouldn't ordinarily, when something they care about is threatened. We all make mistakes.”

Guilt swirled around inside my head as I realized that Brooklyn might not be the evil villainess that I'd made her out to be. She was hurt over losing Asher, something I could totally understand. It must've been awful to have him just disappear like that, with no clue where he'd gone or why he'd left. Or whether he was okay. She'd probably beaten herself up ever since. Not that she wasn't
also
at fault. There were no excuses for what she'd done to him.

“Maybe I could be nicer to Brooklyn from here on out. It sounds like she's gone through a rough time,” I said, forcing myself to try to see things from her perspective.

“She has in her own way,” Asher said, looking around the room as if he were just noticing the other kids for the first time. “And truthfully, she's not as strong as you are, Had. That's one of the things that attracted me to you right off the bat. I knew you weren't the kind of person who'd let anyone influence her into doing something she didn't want to do. You're a leader, not a follower.”

“Aw, shucks,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “If I'd have known our fights would end with you telling me how awesome I am, then I would've gotten mad at you a long time ago.”

“As cute as you are when you're mad, I really hate fighting with you,” he said.

“Me too,” I said. “Let's try to avoid that in the future, okay?”

“Deal. I love you, Had,” Asher said, placing his hand on my cheek and then brushing his fingers back until they were resting on the back of my neck. Pulling me toward him, he planted a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “Nothing's ever going to change that.”

“I know,” I said quietly. Then I sighed and looked straight into his eyes. “Okay, I guess it makes sense for you to talk things through with her. You know, just to clear the air and everything. And I'll
try
not to kill her the next time I see her . . . which is going to be, like, every second of every day for the next month.”

Ugh
.

Asher just laughed. “Thanks, babe,” he said. “You don't have to worry about Brooklyn, though. Promise.”

The conversation with Asher helped to put my mind at ease. Knowing the details of their relationship turned out to be oddly comforting. What I'd been imagining had gone on between them was so much worse than what had actually happened.

These were the times when having an active imagination did
not
come in handy.

By the time we'd finished talking, the sun had already set, and we were both exhausted, so Asher and I said our good nights and went to our rooms. When I finally got to mine and stepped inside, I saw that both Abby and Colette were already there. Pajamas on and makeup off, the girls sat on their beds, suspended several feet into the air.

“Hey,” I said, locking the door behind me, and crossing to my side of the room. I began to change out of my outfit, and then slipped into a pair of boy shorts and a matching tank. Plopping onto my bed, I lifted my feet onto the bedspread and waited as the mattress lifted off the ground and joined the others.

“Everything okay?” Abby asked. She closed the book and rested it in her lap. Her initiation of the conversation was yet another in a long list of surprises that the day had brought. When my brain finally caught up with my mouth, I smiled at her gratefully.

“Yeah, Abby. Everything's fine,” I said.

“You guys left so fast after dinner and we weren't sure where you'd gone,” Colette said. She was in the middle of painting her toenails a lime green color. Well, technically, she was using magic to apply the shade to her feet. I looked down at my own naked nails and decided to join her. She tossed me a coral-colored bottle—the “it” shade of the summer—and I began to paint.

“We just . . . had some things to talk over,” I said, cryptically.

“Like Brooklyn?” Colette asked, looking up from what she was doing.

“Among other things,” I said, sneaking a peek over at Abby, who'd gone back to her book.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Uh-oh.

“Sure,” I said, reluctantly.

Colette let the brush fall back into the top of the polish and twisted the cap closed before tossing it to the end of her bed.

“I couldn't help but notice that your last name is Bishop,” she started, slowly. “Well, either it's a coincidence and you have a
really
famous name—or you're
her
. If you don't want to talk about it, I totally understand, but just . . . wow.”

I didn't usually mind talking about my lineage and I was happy to get off the subject of Brooklyn. The Bishop name still held weight in the witch world. And even though it was a lot to live up to, I welcomed the challenge. I was proud of Bridget—she was a strong, confident woman who was more powerful than any one man. But right now, I felt too distracted to deal with a Bishop fan.

But it was Colette, and so far she'd been pretty cool to me. So I humored her.

“I'm
her
,” I said, forcing a smile onto my face though I wasn't really feeling it. “My great-great-great-great-great-grandmother was Bridget Bishop.”

“That means
you
were the one who finally got rid of Samuel Parris!” she gushed, touching the corner of her glasses as she adjusted them.

“How do you know about that?” I asked, curious to find out how everyone seemed to know about what happened that night. It's not like we'd taken an ad out in the
Witchy Times
or anything.

“In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sort of a magic nerd? I keep my ears open to what's going on in the witching world and know all about the most influential witches. People have been talking about what you did for months now. It's really quite incredible, Hadley. It must've been so
scary
.”

That was putting it mildly.

I looked over at Abby, wishing she'd take some of the attention away from me. After all, the story involved her just as much as it did the rest of us. I cleared my throat and went back to painting my nails.

“There were scary moments,” I said carefully. “A lot of people were hurt—even killed—and we were left to fight them on our own. But we all really believed in each other, and the coven, and we came together in the end. It was really hard, but we did it.”

“I can't believe you killed Samuel Parris and got rid of the Parrishables,” she said in awe.

There was something about the way she said it that didn't sound quite right. For one, I still wasn't entirely sure they were gone. Many of Samuel's followers had gotten away that night, and were probably pretty pissed that a group of twitches had thwarted their evil plan for total witch-world domination. Not to mention that if horror movies had taught us anything, it's that the bad guy
always
came back. But what was I supposed to do? Burst her safe little bubble and tell her I didn't think he was gone for good? Some people deserved the chance to live joyously free of worry.

Besides, I would worry enough for all of us.

“It wasn't just
me
that night, you know,” I said instead. “Every single Cleri member helped to stop the Parrishables. We couldn't have done it without each other.”

I knew that this was true, even if Samuel had been under the impression that I was stronger than the rest of my coven members. Trying to fight Samuel alone had almost gotten me killed, and it hadn't been until all of us had banded together that we'd become a force to be reckoned with.

I hoped that Abby was listening now. She may not have been by our side during the actual showdown, but it didn't mean she hadn't been just as brave. Or that she hadn't been an integral part in taking Samuel down. But most importantly, I wanted everyone to know that the success hadn't only been mine.

“I can't believe my roommate is
the
Hadley Bishop,” Colette squealed. Then she turned to me. “How lucky am I?”

I didn't want to tell her it depended on whom she was asking.

I awoke to the sound of chirping birds. Only, the noises weren't coming from outside. I could hear them as clearly as if the bird was perching right on the pillow next to my head. It made it practically impossible to remain asleep. The alarm turned out to be just another magical touch of our room—something we learned when the chirping finally stopped as the last of our beds was once again resting firmly on the floor.

“I suppose there are worse ways to be woken up,” I said, yawning as we walked to the dining hall together.

It was only eight in the morning, but the sun was already high in the sky and heating things up fast. We were in for another scorcher and luckily I was dressed for the weather
and
whatever we had planned for the day. The counselors had warned us that mornings would be spent on practical spellwork, while the afternoons would be focused primarily on magical history.