Rebecca Hamilton

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To walk Earth’s Surface, I must betray the only people who accept me.

Dreams show me that joining a team on a mission back to earth is my destiny, but dreamers are defects. They can’t get accredited, and without my papers, I’ll never be a Groundwalker.

To fix the glitch in my Genotech stopping my accreditation, I need Biofuse Labs' blueprints. Stealing them is high treason—a capital crime—but if I don’t act fast, I’ll miss my chance to join the team returning to Earth after 1000 years.

A secret group of Glitchers, who see their abilities as gifts, might be my answer, but soon they have me questioning everything. Do I sacrifice who I am to fix my flaws and realize my dreams, or stay true to myself and risk everything to join a rebellion against the Technocracy?

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She thought the human realm was dangerous, but it has nothing on Unseelie Fae Academy.

After being kidnapped by the Seelie and taken to the Fae realm, suddenly, Erica soon discovers she may never be able to return to her former life of hell on earth. Because. according to the king and queen, as the lost princess of the Seelie Court, Erica must attend the Unseelie Academy to foster relations between the Seelie and the Unseelie.

So what's worse than being forced to attend a hostile academy that hates you for belonging to the "wrong" court? Being stuck in a coed dorm with an Unseelie prince who wants to destroy you. Which is exactly what Erica faces as the brooding enemy prince bullies her along with the rest of the Unseelie fae at the school.

They share a common secret, though, that could put them both in far worse danger than any school, magical or not. Because as much as they hate each other, they're starting to fall for each other too.

And even if Erica does learn to use her magic quickly enough to survive the torment of her bullies, there's little hope her heart will survive Maddox's loyalty to the Unseelie court.

Fans of Sarah J Maas and Jennifer L Armentrout will love this spicy enemies to lovers fantasy romance.

CONTENT ADVISORY: This book is for readers who love dark themes such as bullying, attempted assault, and violence. The consent between characters in these books is not explicitly stated, but the FMC secretly loves it! If you enjoy that kind of fictional fantasy, this series is for you!

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***

Stella Aldren, a talented witch from Salem, has been chosen by her coven to fulfill a seventeenth-century curse that can only end in death.

If Stella doesn't want to get herself killed, she needs to find Ethan Mather—the infamous witch hunter's descendant who's running for governor—pluck a hair from his head, make a poppet of his sexy-as-sin self, and...strike him dead.

No muss. No fuss. But when Stella stalks her prey at a political gala, sparks fly. And it's more than their combustible sexual attraction. There’s an unforeseen and unknown magic swirling around the mysterious and devastatingly handsome candidate, and Stella can't bring herself to kill him.

At least not until she discovers who Ethan Mather really is.

Unfortunately, Stella isn't the only curious witch in town. A second coven from Boston's underbelly has Ethan in their sights, putting Stella in the middle of a war between covens. One that wants him dead. And one that wants his power for their own dark deeds.

Now Stella is faced with an impossible choice: kill the enemy she's falling for…or betray her coven by letting him live, putting herself in their crosshairs instead.

Fans of K.F. Breene, Kim Richardson, and Charissa Weaks will soon become obsessed with this enemies to lovers, high-stakes, steamy paranormal romance.

CURSE OF STONE
Academy of the Damned Book One, Copyright Rebecca Hamilton 2019
Chapter 2 (See previous post for Chapter 1)

The hospital smells of disinfectant, blood, and salt. Everyone speaks in hushed voices, but I can still hear what everyone is saying as their words carry on the air.

“Such a tragedy.”

“He was such an amazing young man.”

“It was Madison Whittaker who found him? Weren’t they dating?”

I shake my head and forbid the wind from carrying the voices to me. I look down at the blood on my hands, my fingers red and trembling. I fumble for my phone for the third time and try to call Mama.

There’s no answer.

Again.

As I shove it into my duffel bag, the note she left me that morning falls out. See you at three! I want to scream as I crumble it up and shove it into the deepest corner of the bag, under my street shoes and shorts. I’m still in my cheer uniform. Blood on the skirt.

But whether it is from Julieta or Beau, I’m not sure.

“Miss Whittaker?” a deep voice says.

I look up to see two police officers standing there. They both have blond hair, which is a bit unusual out here where my best friend is one of the only fair-haired people from town I know.

The officer on the left is a bit taller, but the one on the right looks as if he’s trying to make up for being vertically challenged by hitting the gym every day.

They both stare down, their mouths pressed into twin straight lines.

“Y-yes?” I ask, my voice cracking. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was.

“Can we speak to you for a moment?” the first officer asks. His name is Officer Downs, if his nametag is to be trusted.

“Umm...should my mama be here?” I ask.

“You aren’t in any trouble,” the second officer says. He’s a man I know from my neighborhood as Officer Jordan. “We just have to take a statement before you can go home and get cleaned up.”

I nod, looking at my red hands. I should wash them. Why haven’t I done that yet?

“Can you come with us?” Officer Downs asks.

I look up and across the hall, through the big open window to Julieta’s room. I’m not sure why I’m not in there. How did we even get to the hospital? What time is it?

Julieta’s mom is in the room talking to the doctors. Julieta is still unconscious, but no one seems worried. Still, I don’t want to leave just yet.

“Umm...I…” I’m not sure what to say, or what to do. I shouldn’t talk to the cops without my mama, right? Isn’t that the law or something?

I feel like I’m about to cry when I catch Julieta’s mom’s eye. She excuses herself from the doctors and rushes to my side.

“Maddie?” she asks, giving the officers a stern eye as she sits in the chair beside me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing at all, Mrs. Hernandez,” Officer Downs says, doffing his police cap at her. Julieta’s family owns the Mexican restaurant in town, so the Hernandezes are pretty well-known. “We just need a statement from Madison so she can go home.”

“Does she need a lawyer or her mother?” Mrs. Hernandez asks, and I am so thankful she is here to take charge.

“No, ma’am,” Officer Jordan says. “She’s not in any trouble. We just need to confirm what we think happened, and then she is free to go. I’m sure she needs the rest.”

“Have you at least tried to call Genevieve?” Mrs. Hernandez asks.

“Yes, ma’am. Several times,” Officer Jordan says, and a knowing look passes between the three of them. My mama is a bit well-known as well, but not for any good reason.

“Fine,” Mrs. Hernandez says. “Come into Julieta’s room. She’s sleeping, so we can talk there.”

The officers nod, and Mrs. Hernandez helps me to my feet and leads me to Julieta’s room. She sets me in a chair and hands me a cup of water from the table next to Julieta’s bed.

I try to thank her, but no words make it through my parched throat, which I now realize is also sore. How long had I screamed before someone found me and Beau?

I gulp down the water and then hand the cup back to Mrs. Hernandez. I nod toward Julieta. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, honey,” Mrs. Hernandez says, rubbing my back. “She just needs rest.”

Officer Downs takes out a notebook and pen. “Can you tell us what you were doing on the field after the siren went off?”

“I was trying to help Julieta get to the building,” I say. “Mr. Barker’s dog was out, and she went to pick her up. Oh! Mimi!” I suddenly exclaim. “What happened to Mimi?”

“Who’s Mimi?” Officer Downs asks.

“Dog that lives near the school,” Officer Jordan explains quickly, then he pats my hand. “She’s fine. One of the other students found her and took her home.”

I don’t know why this brings me such relief, but it does. Why do I care so much about that stupid dog?

“Then what happened?” Officer Downs asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, trying to remember. “A branch or something flew up and hit Julieta in the head. The debris was moving so fast, I didn’t see what it was. She fell. I stayed by her side to—”

I stop myself before I say protect her. I don’t know a lot about being a witch, except that it’s something I need to keep to myself.

“I couldn’t leave her alone,” I say finally.

“That was very dangerous,” Officer Downs says.

“And brave,” Mrs. Hernandez adds.

Officer Downs presses his lips together.

“How did you find Mr. Redbird?” Officer Jordan asks.

My breath hitches in my throat at the callous way he refers to Beau. Some part of my mind was not ready to think about that. To think that he’s really… That he’s really…

Tears well up again, but I need to get this over with. My hands are still red with his blood.

“The storm passed,” I say. “I went to get help for Julieta. He was on the ground. The rebar…”

I press my red hands to my face and let the tears fall. Mrs. Hernandez kneels by my side and wraps her arms around me.
“That’s it, honey,” she says. “Just let it out.”

And I do. I cry and cry and groan out my pain. I don’t think the pain will ever stop. It sits like a sick rock in my stomach I wish I could vomit out, but I know it will never come up.

Finally, the tears calm. I wipe my nose on the back of my hand and pull away from Mrs. Hernandez, her brown curls just like Julieta’s getting tangled in my own straight blonde hair.

Officer Jordan goes to the table, refills the water cup, and brings it to me. I hold it and stare down into the water. Mrs. Hernandez steps away to talk to Officer Downs, but I focus so I can hear their words.

“Best we can tell, ma’am,” the officer says, “after everyone else was inside, Beau noticed the girls weren’t there. He went back outside to look for them and was struck by the debris. Just a terrible tragedy. An accident.”

An accident.

The words burn in my mind. It wasn’t an accident at all. I sent the rebar flying. I caused Beau’s death. It was my fault. I chose not to attend La Voisin School for Young Witches. I chose not to train. To learn how to control my powers. I stayed away. Hid. Lied.
I killed Beau.

I push past Officer Jordan and into the small bathroom of Julieta’s room. I lunge to the toilet and vomit. I heave and groan, forcing up the guilt, the pain, the regret.

I use my power to purge my body of the poison. The poison that is me. My stupidity. My foolishness. My pride. I vomit until there is nothing left.

And yet, nothing came out. The pain is still there, an eternal rock in my gut that will never leave.

I wipe the sickness from my mouth and flush the toilet.

“We can drive her home,” Officer Jordan offers Mrs. Hernandez. I can hear them standing in the doorway, watching me. Talking about me.

“No,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

The officers silently shuffle from the room, and Mrs. Hernandez kneels beside me, rubbing my back. Then she tugs at my arm, pulling me to my feet and to the sink.

She turns on the water and places my hands under it. She pumps the soap dispenser. She rubs our hands together until the red washes away down the sink. She uses a paper towel to wipe my face. She pulls a hair tie out of her pocket and pulls my hair away from my face and into the tie.

When I dare to look up at the mirror, I look halfway normal. Other than the bloodshot eyes, you’d never know I killed someone today.

The shadow-roots of my hair are just as dark as ever, and my chunky highlights all fall perfectly in place. Even my waterproof winged eyeliner remains unchanged by the shed tears.

“Let’s get you home,” she says, leading me out of the bathroom and toward the door.

But I pull my hand from her grasp and go to Julieta’s side.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” I ask Mrs. Hernandez.

“She will be,” she says.

I look down at Julieta, her head wrapped in gauze. An IV drip in the back of her hand. A monitor bleeping nearby.

I hesitate, but then I take her hand in mine. I nod. She will be okay. I shudder to think what would have happened if I had left her on the field alone.

No. Such a thing never even popped into my mind. Even if I wasn’t a witch, I wouldn’t have left her there. But would I have done things differently? Tried harder to get her off the field instead of facing the storm? Gone for help sooner?

If I hadn’t deflected the rebar, she’d be dead. But Beau would be alive. Did I choose my best friend over my boyfriend? Was it a choice at all? Would I make the same choice again?

“Come on,” Mrs. Hernandez says, tugging me toward the door again. “You need your rest too.”

I let her lead me out of the room. I grab my bag that is still sitting in the hallway as we head to her car.

Driving down the road is hazardous. Debris has scattered everywhere. Uprooted trees. Downed power lines. Emergency vehicles. Mrs. Hernandez drives slowly and cautiously, taking much longer than usual to get me home.

I feel bad; she’s leaving her daughter at the hospital to take care of me because my own mom couldn’t show up to do it herself. But I’m also thankful.

It’s pitch dark. Most of the houses are without power, and the streetlamps are dead. I check the clock on the dash. It’s after ten p.m. I hardly remember anything after finding Beau. Where did the time go?

“Beau’s parents?” I ask, suddenly realizing I didn’t see them at the hospital.

“They know,” Mrs. Hernandez replies.

For the first time, I’m glad his parents rarely have the chance to make it to his games. They have to work a lot to provide for their three kids and Mr. Redbird’s ailing mother. It would have been terrible for them to see him like that…

We pull up in front of my house.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Mrs. Hernandez asks.

“No,” I say firmly. The house is dark, but I know Mama’s in there. Whatever state she’s in, I don’t want Mrs. Hernandez to see her. It must be pretty bad for her to miss the game and a tornado warning.

Mrs. Hernandez reaches behind my seat and hands me an emergency flashlight. I give her a smile, but I feel my resentment toward my own mother growing. The flashlight. The hair tie. Talking to the doctors and cops.

Mrs. Hernandez is the perfect mom. Always prepared. I love her. I appreciate her. She’s been there for me so many times when my own mama wasn’t. But she makes me angry, too. She reminds me how much my own mother sucks.

I’ve lashed out at her before. Called her a stuck-up you-know-what. Rolled my eyes when she tried to give me advice. Poured half a jar of salsa over her famous tamales when they don’t need it just to get under her skin.

But she’s never replied in kind. Never been mean back. Never prevented me from being friends with Julieta. She never gave up on me when the other mothers wouldn’t let me within ten feet of their daughters. As if being the daughter of a ju**ie was contagious.

Truth is, I owe a lot of my success to Mrs. Hernandez. She’s the reason I never did drugs. Did well in school. Tried out for cheer squad. Met Beau. No, I’ve never really, truly been angry at Mrs. Hernandez. It’s Mama I’m angry with.

I look back at the dashboard clock. 11:00. How long have I been sitting here? I take a deep breath and open the door.
“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Call if you need anything, honey,” Mrs. Hernandez says.

I grimace and shut the door, then head to the house. I know Mrs. Hernandez won’t drive away until I’m inside. I reach into an outside pocket of my duffel and pull out my house key. I push open the door and then wave to Mrs. Hernandez.

As I step into the house, I flip the switch on the wall to see if we have power. We don’t, so I flip on the flashlight.

“Mama?” I call.

I shine the light around. The room looks normal. I forgot to see if there was debris in the yard, but it doesn’t look like any of our windows were broken. I’ll have to climb up on the roof tomorrow and check the shingles.

I walk down the hall toward Mama’s room, and my heart sinks when I see a man’s shoes on the floor. I’m not sure I want to keep going. There are some things a child—no matter how old—just doesn’t need to see her mama doing.

But I have to check on her. She’s brought home some real sleaze-balls before. Some that beat her or stole from us. I need to make sure she’s at least safe.

The door to her room is cracked open, so I don’t knock. I push the door open just enough to see in. The floor is littered with cotton balls, needles, clothes, and food wrappers.

I aim the light at the bed and see Mama and two people I don’t recognize—a man and a woman—sprawled out. The other woman raises her head and looks toward me, but it seems like she doesn’t really see me. Her gaze doesn’t focus and her eyes are bloodshot. Her head lolls as if it is too heavy for her neck.

When she looks away and goes back to sleep, I turn my attention to Mama. Her chest rises and falls. She’s still alive.

I pull the door closed and go back down the hall to the stairs and then up to my own room, where I lock the door behind me. More than one of her ju**ie friends has “accidentally” made their way into my room at night before.

I strip off my clothes and go into my private bathroom to shower. I just stand there for a long time, letting the hot water fall over me and out the drain. Wishing it would wash me away, too.

I stay until the water runs cold before getting out and toweling off. After I put on my favorite comfy jammies and sit on my bed, I let out a breath. What now? I’m not tired, but I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to think.

I go over to my desk and pick up my tablet, figuring I can watch something on Netflix. But as I do, my eyes flit to the corkboard over it. The pamphlet for La Voisin school is there. I mean, it’s always there. It has been there since I was fourteen.

I was supposed to enroll when I was fifteen, like all witches, but I didn’t. I just ignored it. I didn’t want to leave Mama. I didn’t want the training. I didn’t want to leave Julieta or my school or my town.

I wanted to live a normal life. Go to college. Get married. Have an awesome job. And I was on my way to that—until tonight.

I don’t know a lot about witches. Mama is a third generation “mundane,” meaning she’s the third person in our family to be born without innate witchcraft. But for some reason, the witch blood came to life in me.

I thought I could control it. I’d used it a few times. It made raking the leaves easier when I could just blow them into the neighbor’s yard. I used it to protect myself by blowing a guy across the room who had snuck into my room.

I’d never considered that I could use my powers to...to kill someone.

I pull down the pamphlet and open it. An incredible old gothic mansion, now called La Voisin, graces the pamphlet cover. The faces of the other students smile up at me. They are young witches, like me, holding witchcraft items like a Book of Shadows, wands, and magical crystals.

On the back are instructions to get to the school, which is located in Danvers, Massachusetts.

“Any mirror opens the way,
Be prepared to change your life today.
Touch the glass and open your heart,
’Take me to La Voisin. This is my new start.’”

I turn to the full-length mirror behind me and run my fingers over it. It’s just a plain old mirror I bought at the Dollar Store like five years ago. But all mirrors can serve as portals.

My great-great grandmother was a witch. I didn’t know her, but she passed some witch lore down through the family. Most of what I know was told to me by my grandmother, who knew my great-great-grandma, but how much was real or accurate was up for debate. Since she wasn’t a witch, she couldn’t try the things she had learned, and I didn’t have much desire to be a guinea pig. Or a witch, for that matter.

Until now.

If only I’d been trained to use my powers, things would have gone differently today. I could have controlled the debris. Or gotten Julieta off the field. Or stopped the tornado itself.

“Take me to La Voisin,” I whisper. My reflection melts into a dark scene. It’s raining in Danvers, and just as dark there. The mansion is in the distance, surrounded by a tall dark hedgerow. “This is my—”

Lightning strikes behind La Voisin school, lighting up the mirror. I scream and jump back, suddenly feeling that same gripping fear of being back on the high school field, facing down a tornado, lightning striking, thunder roaring.

I run to my bed and wrap the covers around me. The image of La Voisin in the mirror fades away, and the glass returns to normal. I rock back and forth on the bed as the tears come again.

“I don’t want to be a witch. I don’t want to be a witch,” I mumble to myself.

There is power in words. But these words are not powerful enough. Even I know that I can’t change my nature.

I am a witch, and I can’t avoid that or the danger that comes with it forever.

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CURSE OF STONE
Academy of the Damned Book One, Copyright Rebecca Hamilton 2019

Chapter 1.

Through the clashing of the marching band and roaring of the crowd, no one hears the rumble of thunder in the distance, warning of the horrors to come.

“And now here they are!” the announcer crows into the mic, his voice reverberating over the cheering crowd. “Your regional champions! The Turkey Hollow Turkeys!”

Of course, he pronounces “hollow” like “holler,” as any good Oklahoman would.

“Let’s hear your turkey hollers!” the announcer calls, and all of us join in with the traditional gobble-gobble sound we learned to perfection back in our elementary school years.

My best friend and cheerleading captain, Julieta, pumps one of her pom-poms in the air. Her brown curls swish to the side with her energetic movements. “Let’s go, ladies!”

She leads us in a jog onto the field, where we jump and tumble, our pom-poms shimmering in the bright lights of the football field. It shouldn’t be this dark on a Saturday afternoon, but the clouds are moving their way over the sun.

We live in Tornado Alley. Before you can even walk, any kid raised here knows the terror that can follow a lightning strike, a gust of wind, and the blare of the tornado siren.

Even the most rural part of the state has early warning systems for deadly storms. But numbers lie. Systems fail. Sirens don’t always go off.

People die.

But in the thrill of enjoying one of our favorite high school pastimes, it’s all too easy to ignore the signs that the fun should be put on hold.

The clouds move in too fast. The wind changes direction. There’s that warning smell in the air.

Others might have a free pass for overlooking the signs, but I should know better. Maybe if I wasn’t always so worried about hiding my special abilities, I’d be better at trusting my instincts.
As the football team busts through the door from the locker room and onto the field, concerns about the dark weather are ignored.

This is the division championships. If we win this game, we will go on to state finals! It’d be a huge accomplishment for our school, and I’m about to be a part of it.

We cheerleaders step to the side, forming an alley for the footballers to run through. We yell and raise our pom-poms, but I’m only looking for one guy.

My man. Number 63. Beau Redbird. Not hard to spot him since he towers taller than most of the football team.

When our eyes meet, it is as if the rest of the world melts away. He smiles at me from beneath his head of dark long hair that he keeps pulled back.

His teeth gleam against his warm terracotta skin, and I can’t speak, can hardly move, as my heart beats to nearly rupturing in my chest. I could get lost in those big brown eyes forever.

As he passes by, he reaches out and lightly brushes my cheek. Then he’s gone, lost in the throng of players bustling onto the field. The crowd roars again as our players move into position.

“Come on,” Julieta says, grabbing my arm so we can take our seats on the side of the field.

This is our first chance for a break in hours. We had to lead the pep rally first, which started at noon. And that was after the charity pancake breakfast the team hosted that we had to act as servers for.

Not to mention it’s been a crazy week of activities leading up to today. And if—no, when we win—the next few weeks leading up to the state finals will be even crazier.

But so worth it!

If Beau gets a scholarship, then I’ll know where to start applying for colleges, too, so we can live in the same area. I know it’s crazy to think I might have found “the one” when I’m only seventeen, but when you know, you know, right?

I scan the crowd for my mama. I knew I wouldn’t have time to see her this morning, so I had been pestering her all week so she wouldn’t forget the game today.

This morning I’d found a note she’d left for me that said See you at three! and stuffed it into my bag as I ran out of the house. Part of me knows she didn’t come, but I can’t help but hope.

I don’t see her anywhere. The bleachers are packed, though, and she’s kind of short. She could be here; I just can’t see her.
“That’s a first down!” the announcer yells.

The crowd cheers and gobble-gobbles, bringing me back to the game. We cheerleaders jump to our feet and rustle our pom-poms.

A cold gust of wind pushes at the back of my neck, sending goose bumps across my flesh. I turn around, a sense of dread pressing down on me when I see the black cloud seeping over the field.

“Julieta?” I say, nudging her with my elbow. “What did the weather say today?”

“Chance of storms later, like after five,” she says, still watching the game. “Hopefully the game will end before the rain starts.”

“I don’t think we are going to make it.” I tug on her arm, forcing her to turn around.

“Shoot!” she says as she reaches into her top and pulls her phone out of her bra. “I better check for any warnings.”

Out in the crowd, a few other people are also checking their phones. There may have been no siren or official warning, but we need to get inside.

I grit my teeth, eyeing the storm cloud above. We could make it a little longer, couldn’t we? This game is too important. If we call it off now, there’ll be no chance to reschedule before the finals.

A few people shrug and return to the game. I guess I’m not the only one hoping the storm will just blow over.

“There’s no warning,” Julieta says. “Even the radar shows it going way west of here. I’m sure we’ll be fine. It just looks bad.”

I nod, and we both turn back to the field. But the wind lifts my hair, brushes my skin. I feel the electricity in the air zapping my fingertips. The air is calling me. Warning me. Speaking to me.
Run.

“Oh no,” Julieta says before I can voice my panic. “Mr. Barker’s dog got out again!”

Across the field, on the other side of the fence, Mr. Barker’s little brown Pomeranian runs loose, sniffing the grass and barking at something.

“I better go get her,” Julieta says, and she takes off before I can stop her.

Mr. Barker is an elderly gentleman who lives next to the school. He was a state champion back in like the fifties or something.

Kind of a local legend, so we all look out for him. His dog, Mimi, sneaks out once in a while and we all fight over who gets to take her back home and get treated to tea and poppin’ fresh homemade biscuits with butter and honey.

Sometimes, I think Mr. Barker lets Mimi out on purpose for an excuse to get some visitors. He doesn’t seem lonely when we’re there, but I bet he is the rest of the time. He’s a sweet old widower who loves to drone on about “back in my day…”

But today, as I see Julieta running across the field, her superb brown ringlets bouncing in the staticky air, I’d rather leave Mimi to her own devices and get everyone else inside.

I pull out my own phone, checking the weather alerts myself.
“Please, please, please,” I mutter. Please, let there be an alert.

We need to get everyone inside. I just know it in the magical way I seem to know these sorts of things. But there is nothing, and I’ll seem crazy if I tell people to go in now. They’d ignore me, and then hate me for trying to ruin such an important game for our school.

Run!

I can’t ignore the warnings any longer. I don’t have to look to know the storm is about to break over us.

Screw it. They can hate me. I have to say something.

I run to Coach and grab his arm. He pulls off his headphones and narrows his stormy grey eyes at me. He glares up at me.

It’s funny he ever played football, to be honest. He’s short and has a bit of a beer belly. The latter might not have been a problem when he was in highschool, but I doubt he’s shrunk since then.

“This better be important, Whittaker!” he barks. It’s a serious breach of rules to interrupt Coach during a game.

The words die in my throat, so I just point. He turns to look up, and terror sweeps over me. The clouds are churning more now. Thicker, darker. Almost evil.

Coach throws his headset back on and pushes a button. “We need to call this off and get everyone inside,” he says. “Now! Storm’s coming in fast.”

Screams of panic tear my attention back to the bleachers. Some people in the crowd are pointing at the roiling clouds; others have already jumped to their feet and are trampling their way down to the field.

But there’s a few who have planted themselves firmly, arms crossed as if refusing to give in to the power of nature and let anything disrupt the game.

Coach blows a whistle and sprints onto the field to convene with the other coach and referees. The players seem confused at first, but then they see the storm and start taking off their helmets. I motion to Beau to come to the side of the field, but he shakes his head.

His attention is swiftly back on the coach, like he can’t make any more decisions—not even for safety—without Coach’s approval first.

“Okay, folks,” the announcer says, an undercurrent of panic in his voice. “Looks like we got a gullywasher coming in. Let’s have a nice orderly procession off the field and into the building. Hopefully it will blow us by, and we can resume the game.”

After a screech of feedback and a thunk, the announcer tosses off his headset. He’s probably making a beeline for the door, not wasting a moment of time to get to the ground.

The crowd is in chaos. Some people boo and hiss at having to leave their seats. Others still refuse to get up, blocking the way.

Several people hop from bleacher to bleacher, trying to find any path to the ground and back to the high school building across the parking lot.

Finally, the coaches give their players permission to vacate the field.

“Be the leaders I know you all are,” Coach says to the boys. “Escort everyone inside in an orderly fashion.”

Beau runs to me first and squeezes my hand. “You need to get inside.”

“I have to find my mama first,” I reply. Even though I have a feeling she never showed, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. “I’ll meet you inside.”

The wind picks up, blowing around us. My hair and skirt flutter in the breeze. He turns to block me from the wind, his warm arms wrapping me in a safe embrace.

A tornado siren blares, shattering the air. The few people left in the bleachers finally realize the seriousness of the situation and jump to their feet, crowding the exits as they try to pile down the rows of the bleachers all at once.

Beau releases my hand. “I’ll find your mom. You get inside,” he says, then he runs to the bleachers with the other players to es**rt the people off the field.

I look around to make sure all the cheerleaders are gone when I see Julieta scampering back over the fence, Mimi in her arms.

I wave to her. “Come on!” I scream, but my voice dies as the wind howls. Branches and debris fly across the field. “Hurry!”

Julieta shields Mimi in one arm and lifts the other to protect her head. The last of the crowd is making their way across the parking lot. We are the only people left.

I run toward Julieta, but just before I reach her, a piece of debris smacks her in the side of the head. She crumples to the ground, and it’s as though the debris has impaled my own heart.

Not my friend. I have to do something!

“Julieta!” I scream.

Mimi yelps as Julieta lands on top of her, but she squirms her way out from under her and sprints toward the building.

I kneel at Julieta’s side and shake her, but she doesn’t respond. I lift her head and see a trail of blood seeping from her temple. Her head lolls back down. I put my fingers to her throat.

There’s a pulse.

“Come on!” I cry, trying to get her to her feet, but it’s no use. I’m strong from cheer practice, but I can’t deadlift another human being.

I stand and look around, trying to find someone to help, but everyone is safely inside.

As the tornado forms, debris swirling around us, I know there’s really only one hope that we’ll survive this.

I have no choice.

Even though I swore I wouldn’t, I have to use my powers.

After years of hiding them, I’m not even sure I can, but I have to at least try. I stand and face the storm. I’m not strong enough to stop it, or even redirect it, but I should be able to create a pocket of air around us for protection.

Dread churns in my gut that I might not be enough of an air witch to pull this off. But I can’t stand by and do nothing.

I raise my hands and call on Hecate, the First Witch, for strength. I cannot create air, but I am able to gather the wisps of errant breezes around me to create a small cyclone of my own.

As my magical cyclone whirls around us, faster and faster, the tornado drops from the clouds to the earth like an angry dragon’s tail. Lightning strikes around it, and the wind roars threateningly, but I hold my ground.

I’ve had no formal training in how to use my powers. Everything I know is simply from the trial and error of my youth, before I realized it wasn’t safe to use my powers. There’s too much risk of someone seeing me.

It’s been a few years since I’ve practiced against a fierce Oklahoma storm, and that wasn’t a tornado. I’ve never faced down a tornado before.

Mama would kill me.

But I can think of no other way to protect Julieta. If the tornado comes for us, we are doomed.

The tornado skirts around the field, growling like a freight train bearing down on us. The sky churns, spitting down stinging rain. Lightning sparks.

Then the tornado seems to pass us by.

Relief floods through me so fast that my blood runs cold. We’re going to be okay!

Just as soon as I have that thought, though, I’m reminded that tailwinds are the most dangerous. The tornado had ripped up trees and demolished houses, and now the remnants are following in its wake, careening toward us.

Siding from a house pummels toward us, but I wave my arm, slapping the debris to the right with a gust of wind to send it away from us.

A patio chair tumbles toward us next, but I knock it away as well. A tree branch, a rearview mirror, shingles—I knock most of it away with counterair, and the stray pieces bounce off the protective air bubble I’ve created.

I start to think we just might survive this when something dark and long falls out of the clouds and heads straight toward us.

I try to send a gust of wind toward it, to knock it off course, but it is too heavy. As it gets closer, I realize it is a bundle of rebar, probably from a nearby construction site.

Damn it.

I can’t maintain the air pocket and control the gusts. It will take all my strength to divert debris this heavy.

I drop the air pocket and send not just a gust, but a full surge of wind to the rebar. It is just enough to redirect the rebar’s fall, and it crashes to the ground, the zip ties holding it together breaking, sending the rebar flying in all directions.

I scream and send out a burst of wind to keep the errant rebar from hitting us. There are too many of them that I don’t even think about where to send the flying metal. All I think about is pushing air out, away from us in every direction.

The wind starts to die down, and the tornado slips back up into the clouds. The siren goes silent. I collapse at Julieta’s side and shake her. She groans.

“Hey!” I say. “Are you okay?” She grunts again but doesn’t speak. I brush a curl from her face. “I’m going to go get help.”

I stand up, my legs and hands shaking. I’m tired from the exertion, but the adrenaline is still rushing through my veins.

I can’t believe I faced down a tornado! I can’t wait to tell Mama. She’ll be mad, but there’s no one else I can tell. No one else knows I’m a witch.

I run past the bleachers to the field’s exit to find someone to help me with Julieta. She needs a doctor. But as I run, I see someone else collapsed on the field, lying on his back.

Not just anyone. My boyfriend.

My blood freezes in my chest, and my whole body stops. The adrenaline is gone. The fear of the tornado is gone. Julieta and Mama are gone.

There is only Beau.

I find my feet and run toward him, my arms pumping at my sides. “Beau!”

He’s not moving. Why is he just lying there?

When I reach him, I see why.

A stick of rebar is jutting out of his chest, his dark blood pooling around it.

“No!” I collapse at his side, my lungs seizing and tears pinching my face. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

His eyes are wide open, but he doesn’t respond.

I shake him. “Wake up! Please!”

But the truth is there in those warm brown eyes I could get lost in. And this time, I really am lost. I need Beau. He can’t leave me.

“Beau!” I shake him harder, clinging on for some kind of miracle. “Come on, we have our whole lives ahead of us. Beau!”

But he’s already dead. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, my life might as well be over too. Tears sting my eyes, and pain grips my heart like the talons of a devil’s claws. This can’t be reality.

Beau was my everything. He can’t be gone.

He can’t be. But he is, and I’ll never be the same.

I scream to Hecate. Cursing her. Begging her for help. But I know she had no hand in this. This was me. My fault. My pride. My stupidity.

I’ve killed the boy I love.

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