This Coven Won't Break - Isabel Sterling Page 0,51
captured, what good is having them?”
My covenmate-turned-girlfriend-turned-terrible-ex-turned-friend goes silent on the other line.
“Veronica?”
“Sorry,” she says, but she sounds distracted now, like her thoughts have wandered elsewhere. She pauses for a long time, and I’m about to ask if she’s still there when she speaks again. “Wasn’t Lexie from Chicago? Do you think she knows the Casters who lost their magic?”
A flush of jealousy burns my skin, but I push down the old reflex. I hated the way Veronica fawned over the older witches in Manhattan, but that shouldn’t matter now. Veronica and I have returned to our pre-dating friendship. Mostly. Who she worries about is none of my business. Besides, there’s no reason to be jealous that she remembers where someone is from.
Yet that doesn’t stop this weird feeling in my gut.
“Maybe I should call her again,” Veronica muses. “See if she’s okay.”
“Wait.” The weird feeling inside grows hot and angry. “What do you mean again?”
“Don’t be mad, Han—”
“Saying that basically guarantees it’s supposed to make me mad,” I counter.
My ex sighs. “It’s not a big deal. After everything that—” She loses her voice and has to clear her throat before she can start again. “After everything, I called the Casters to warn them about the Hunters. Lexie was the only one who answered.”
“I’m sorry,” I snap, rolling out of bed to pace the small bedroom. “After everything they did to us, you still have their phone numbers?!”
“They deserve to know the Hunters are back.”
“Pretty sure we have a Council for that, Veronica. Or did you forget that like you forgot the rest of us when you ran away to college?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything, Hannah.” Her voice is low now, a dangerous edge to her words. “Just because I don’t want to relive my trauma every day doesn’t mean I don’t remember. It doesn’t mean my life is fucking perfect.”
Her words hang between us, and the hurt in her voice deflates the righteous anger that was building inside me. We were friends a lot longer than we were girlfriends or exes, but it’s so easy to default to the bitter, hurt feelings that consumed me after our breakup. Those emotions are more recent. Still a little raw. I perch on the edge of my bed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—”
“I know,” she says, softening, too. “And I swear, I was just warning them to be careful. I wasn’t asking to hang out or anything.” She pauses, and I picture her lying back on her bed in her dorm, staring out at the moon. “You know I’m sorry for dragging you into that whole mess. And now you’re stuck dealing with Alice on top of everything else.”
“My life is absurd. It belongs in some modern art museum.”
Veronica laughs. “Can you imagine if you had to recruit Coral or Tori to help, too?”
“Alice might actually kill me.”
For the next hour, I let Veronica distract me with stories about her and Savannah. They officially started dating after V got out of the hospital over the summer, and they managed to get placed as roommates at school.
Veronica tells me about late-night walks under the stars, failed attempts to turn the dining hall into a romantic date location, and a couple of frantic all-nighters to study for tests with her new friends.
“Savannah’s even planning to come out to her parents when we’re home for fall break,” she adds, her voice hushed. “She’s been dropping little hints, and so far, they haven’t said anything weird.”
“That’s awesome, V,” I say, even as a bubble of jealousy flares up again. But then she asks about Morgan, and all that goes away. I tell her that Mom still lives by the No Closed Doors rule, which makes her laugh. “You should have heard the awkward Safe Sex Talk that Mom tried to give me this morning. It was mortifying. I’m going to have to avoid her until I leave for Ithaca on Saturday.”
Veronica groans sympathetically. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you visit.” But she doesn’t ask why I’m coming. She doesn’t want to know about my mission or anything about the Hunters or the Council. I want to tell her that not knowing won’t protect her, but our renewed friendship is still fragile, so I don’t press.
That night, Benton plagues my nightmares. Waking doesn’t do me any good, either. He stalks me through the halls at school, a constant specter shadowing me through each of my classes. He leans against my locker between periods,