Blood Witch Read Free

wanted gone, forever. It had created a wall between us.
    “Cal seems nice,” Mom said brightly, trying to put me at ease and fish for information at the same time. “He’s certainly good-looking.”
    “Um . . . yeah, he’s really nice. Let me go take a shower,” I mumbled, standing up. “Then we’ll go to the store.” I fled.
     
    “Okay, first stop, coffee shop,” Mary K. directed a half hour later. She folded Mom’s grocery list and stuck it in her coat pocket.
    I wheeled Das Boot—my massive, submarine-like old car—into the parking lot of the small strip mall that boasted Widow’s Vale’s one and only coffee emporium. We dashed from the car to the café, where it smelled like coffee and pastry. I looked at the board and tried to decide between a grande latte or a grande today’s special. Mary K. leaned over the glass case, gazing longingly at the bear claws. I checked my cash.
    “Get one if you want,” I said. “My treat. Get me one, too.”
    My sister flashed me a smile, and I thought again that she looked so much older than fourteen. Some fourteen-year-olds are so gawky: half formed, childlike. Mary K. wasn’t. She was savvy and mature. For the first time in a long while, it occurred to me that I was lucky to have her as my sister, even if we didn’t share the same blood.
    The door swung open, bells jangling. Bakker Blackburn came in, followed by his older brother, Roger, who had been a senior at Widow’s Vale High last year and was now at Vassar. My insides clenched. Mary K. glanced up, eyes wide. She looked away quickly.
    “Hey, Mary K., Morgan,” Bakker mumbled, avoiding my gaze. He probably hated me. About a week earlier, I’d kicked him out of our house in no uncertain terms when I’d found him pinning Mary K. down on her bed, practically raping her. He also probably thought I was an alien, since those terms had included hitting him with a ball of crackly blue witch fire—without even meaning to. I still didn’t know how I’d done it. My own power constantly surprised me.
    Mary K. nodded at Bakker. She clearly didn’t know what to say.
    “Hey, Roger,” I said. He was two years older than me, but Widow’s Vale is a small town, and we all pretty much know each other. “How’s it going?”
    Roger shrugged. “Not bad.”
    Bakker’s eyes remained glued to Mary K.
    “We’d better go,” I stated, heading toward the exit.
    Mary K. nodded, but she took her time following me out the door. Maybe she secretly wanted to see if Bakker would say anything. Sure enough, he approached her.
    “Mary K.,” he began pleadingly.
    She looked at him but turned and caught up to me without a word. I was relieved. I knew he’d been groveling hard since the Incident, and I could tell that Mary K. was weakening. I was afraid that if I spoke too harshly, it might drive her back to him. So I kept my mouth shut. But I had promised myself that if I got the slightest inkling of his forcing himself on her again, I would tell my parents, his parents, and everyone I knew.
    And Mary K. would probably never forgive me, I thought as we got into the car.
    I started Das Boot’s engine and pulled out onto the street. Thinking about Mary K.’s love life made me think about my own. I started to smile and couldn’t stop. Was Cal my mùirn beatha dàn —the Wiccan term for soul mate, life partner? He seemed to believe so. The possibility sent a shiver down my spine.
    At the grocery store we stocked up on Pop-Tarts and other necessities. In the snacks aisle I lifted twelve-packs of Diet Coke into the cart while Mary K. piled bags of pretzels and chips on top. Farther down the shelf were boxes of Fudge Therapy, Bree’s favorite junk food.
    Bree. My former best friend.
    I swallowed. How many times had Bree and I smuggled boxes of Fudge Therapy into a movie theater? How many boxes had we consumed during sleepovers as we lay in the dark, spilling our secrets to each other? It still seemed bizarre that we were enemies,