Spells Trouble (Sisters of Salem #1) - P. C. Cast Page 0,39
to her feet. Hunter needed to do something for Mercy. But the one person she would have gone to for advice was now waiting at the sheriff’s office to be claimed.
Eleven
The entire drive back toward their house from the Parrott Family Funeral Home, Hunter thought about how she could help Mercy and what her mother would have said. Every thought that occurred to her eventually led nowhere. She was alone and in the dark like she’d always been. By now, the stillness was a comfort, something to hold on to when the world turned inside out and true darkness fell. And it didn’t get darker than the death of Abigail Goode.
Mercy said nothing, did nothing as Hunter flipped on the turn signal and headed down Sycamore Street to take the long way home. A part of Hunter dreaded going back to their house, the hollow skeleton that had once been the most comforting place on earth. Her mother had been the marrow, the lifeblood, the heart. But what did that make her? What did that make Mercy? Were the sisters walking shadows that took up space without giving anything back in return? Hunter rubbed her tight, dry lips together. Her mother hadn’t felt that way about her daughters. And neither should Hunter. Perhaps the Goode sisters each held a piece of marrow and blood and heart. And if Hunter could bring their home back to life, she could definitely figure out a way to revive her sister.
With a sigh, Mercy blew Hunter’s thoughts right out the window. She strained against her seat belt, turned to face Hunter, and folded her legs up under her before stilling again and resuming her listless stare out the window as Hunter guided the car through the quaint neighborhood that framed Main Street. Each house was a cupcake, fatter than they were tall and each decorated in a different shade of pastel. If Hunter had more experience driving, she could get them home blindfolded and without GPS.
Mercy let out another sigh and rested the back of her head on the passenger window. “How are you so okay with everything? I feel like I’m dying.”
The trench in Hunter’s stomach deepened. It wasn’t an accusation, but it stung nonetheless. “I’m not okay with everything.” Hunter kept her eyes fixed on the road like it was the only thing preventing the car from careening into one of the cupcake houses.
“You don’t seem upset.”
This time Hunter did look at her sister. She opened her mouth to speak but wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to slam on the brakes and throw open the door and rush out into the middle of the street and curse the sky, the earth, the gods, whichever was responsible for taking her mother. But that would do her no good. And that would leave Mercy alone in her own darkness, her new darkness, and she wasn’t sure if Mercy could find her way out. Hunter closed her mouth and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“It’s just…” Mercy sagged deeper into the seat. “Business as usual for Hunter Goode.”
Hunter bit the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t her fault she was better at dealing with problems than Mercy, or that Mercy had the luxury of only having to face one devastating thing. It didn’t matter how many times Mercy had been there to comfort Hunter while she cried about her latest bullying tragedy, or how many times Mercy brewed Hunter a pot of healing tea and talked about problems as simple things, shimmering bubbles of pain that would eventually pop and leave no trace. Mercy had never fully understood Hunter’s pain because she’d had so little of her own.
But maybe now she would.
Hunter stopped at a stop sign as Mercy popped open the glovebox and removed the pack of travel tissues their mother kept next to the car’s manual and a satchel stuffed full of dried sage. Mercy pulled out a tissue and dabbed the rounded tip of her pink nose. “I wish I was more like you.”
Lint clung to the beams of light shining in through the windows. A chuckle hardened in the back of Hunter’s throat. She’d been wishing the exact same thing about herself for the past sixteen years. But that wish had been a compliment to Mercy and, somehow, this didn’t feel the same.
Mercy balled up the tissue and dropped her hands into her lap. “It’s a charm or a tincture or something, isn’t it? Something that just took