This Coven Won't Break - Isabel Sterling Page 0,112

then, I will grieve the ones we lost and love the ones who are left as hard as I can.

And hope that Dad would count that as a win.

eight months Later

35

“HANNAH, COME ON! WE’RE going to be late.” Gemma shouts at me from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s our last bonfire before graduation. Hurry up!”

“Just a second,” I call from my bedroom. My real bedroom. Construction took a little longer than expected, but Mom and I moved into the new house, built in the same spot as the one we lost, a little over three months ago.

Mom and I are making new memories here, and I think Dad would like that. And if we’re wrong about the afterlife, if our spirits do linger on earth after death, it feels good to know we’ll be in a familiar place, somewhere Dad can find us.

Beside me, Morgan is practically buzzing with excitement. “How long do you think it’ll take her to run up here to yell at us?”

“Less than a minute,” I say without hesitation. Gemma is not about to let us miss the end-of-school-year bonfire. Thankfully, this one should be free of animal sacrifices.

Although . . . she may be less interested in the party once we show her what I finally convinced the Council to let me share.

After Cal returned from top surgery, I wasn’t sure if he’d stay on with the Council without Archer. He wasn’t sure at first, either, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to study the combination of different Clan magics. The boundaries of our powers are so much blurrier now, and he wanted to be part of all of it.

Still, even with Cal’s help, it took months of discussions and committees and cowritten proposals to win the Council’s approval. We’re still years, maybe decades, away from the Clans coming out to the world. Even so, the restructured Council—now with better inter-Clan relations and more input from younger witches—agreed that telling trusted friends about our power is an acceptable first step.

There’s still an obscene number of hoops to jump through to get a non-witch approved before telling them, but Cal was able to rush my application. It helped that Gemma willingly gave up her memories to protect us.

Downstairs, Gemma grumbles. A beat later, she’s climbing the stairs. “I am not going to be late to another party because you two are busy making out.” She stops outside. “Please tell me you’re dressed at least?”

“Fully clothed,” I promise as I pull open the door. I can’t keep the grin off my face. “We do have something to show you though.”

Gemma looks cautiously from me to Morgan and back again. “Okay . . .” She steps into the bedroom and looks for what the surprise might be.

“You may want to sit down.” I lead her to my bed and wait for her to perch on the edge of the mattress.

“What’s going on?” Gemma glances up at me. “You’re freaking me out. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry one of you was pregnant.”

“No one’s pregnant,” Morgan says, grinning. “We do have a secret though. Hannah?”

I raise my right hand to chest height, palm up. “Ready?”

Gem gives me a skeptical look and shrugs. “I guess so.”

“Don’t freak out,” I warn, and wait for Gem to agree. Then I snap my fingers, and a small flame bursts forth. I’ve been perfecting this skill with my grandmother for weeks now, and I feed the tiny fire more of my power until it’s the size of a golf ball.

“What the hell?” Gemma stands abruptly, and she has to grab the bedpost for balance. Her eyes are alight with curiosity. “How are you doing that?”

Saying this to her again is all the excitement of that first time without the worry that twisted my stomach into knots. “I’m a witch. An Elemental, to be specific.” I extinguish the flame and reach for the bottle on my desk, freezing the water to solid ice.

Gemma curses appreciatively under her breath. “What about Morgan? Are you one, too?”

“Also a witch,” Morgan confirms, “but a different kind.” We decided to ease into the whole Blood Witch thing, since Gemma was slightly grossed out last time.

“Seriously? Who else knows about this? How long has this been a thing?” Gemma falls back onto the bed, like she’s overwhelmed by all the possibilities. “Wait. I’m not your token muggle friend, am I?” I laugh, and Gemma sits back up. “What’s so funny?”

“You said that the first time I told you, too.”

“The first time?”

“We . . . have a lot to talk about.” I check my phone and slide it into my back pocket. “But I know you don’t want to be late to the bonfire.”

“Screw the bonfire.” She drags me and Morgan onto the bed with her. “Tell me everything.”