Spells Trouble (Sisters of Salem #1) - P. C. Cast Page 0,93

Kirk Whitfield as quarterback, the Mustangs always won.

Hunter hunched, her shoulders lifted to her ears, as she hid behind Mercy while they walked through the spectators slowly spilling from the bleachers now that practice was near its end. Mercy waved and bounced through the crowd, the perfect example of an up-and-coming Goodeville homecoming queen—tenacious, girlfriend of a football star, and filled with enough school spirit to kill a horse. Hunter fanned the end of her ponytail and dusted it against her lips as she dodged hey’s and sorry to hear’s. She couldn’t talk to people here. She couldn’t talk to people anywhere. This town thought they knew all about her because they knew her sister and her mother. These townspeople would run screaming if they learned what she’d done at the murder scene only hours before.

The memory sent pinpricks of energy across Hunter’s palms. She dropped her ponytail and clenched her fists by her sides. She knew blood magic was important. She’d felt it during Mercy’s grief spell and again near the old olive tree and the imprint of Earl Thompson’s body. Sarah Goode’s grimoire had been exactly what she’d needed to feel at ease with her new predilection. Blood magic had been used before, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Hunter used it again.

Mercy grabbed Hunter’s clenched fist and dragged her toward the emptying bleachers, pulling Hunter and her thoughts from the want that radiated through her fingertips to her fluttering heart.

“Are you excited?” Mercy nearly squealed. “I mean, I know this spell and everything is really serious, but I can’t help but be a smidge excited. I’ve always wanted to be able to share my spellwork with friends.”

They stopped near the metal stands. Hunter rubbed her palms together. She didn’t mind keeping her spellwork to herself. However, she did mind that she’d have to share more of their family secret with Kirkles.

A loud “Mustangs!” roared from the football field followed by whoops and cheers from the crowd. Hunter blew out a puff of air. Even though she’d dodged Mercy’s question and had no interest in including Kirk in their upcoming spell, she knew her sister had been correct. No matter how much Hunter disliked Kirk, he was the only other person they trusted enough to ask to participate. Hunter scrunched her nose. Trusted was such a strong word.

Hunter shook away the shell she’d gotten so adept at hiding in whenever she was forced to be around a crowd, and searched the throng of people for her own Hail Mary pass. She shielded her eyes against the starbursts of sunlight shooting off the players’ scuffed red helmets as, one by one, the varsity players removed them and shuffled off the field. “Jax!” She lifted onto her tiptoes and waved.

“I don’t see Kirk.” Mercy chewed her bottom lip and searched the crowd of stinky white practice jerseys for her beloved.

Jax returned Hunter’s wave and flashed her a cute, crooked-toothed grin before he slapped his teammate on his bulky shoulder pads and jogged over, his helmet in his hand.

“H! You came to a practice!” Jax’s brows lifted and he enveloped her in a sweaty hug, his helmet bumping against her back with each gentle squeeze. “Hell must’ve finally frozen over.”

“Where’s Kirk?” Mercy asked before Hunter had even taken a breath to speak.

Jax scratched the back of his neck and swallowed. “He’s, uh…” His gaze flicked across Mercy and settled on the dusty, worn gravel between his cleats. “Talking to Coach, I think.”

Mercy’s cheeks plumped with a smile. “I see him,” she said and practically skipped over to meet the sweaty quarterback.

Hunter crossed her arms over her chest and squinted up at her best friend. “Did you pull another Mrs. Ritter and see my sister’s boobs, too?”

Jax stiffened. “What? No!”

“Then what’s with the weirdness? I can practically feel it pouring off you.”

He picked at a clump of dirt stuck to the back of his helmet. “You’re not going to like it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t like a lot of things.”

Jax took a breath, held it for a moment, and let the words rush out with his exhale. “Yeah, but this is about your sister.”

Hunter’s stomach squeezed and her fingertips went cold. Someone was talking about Mercy? Hunter’s attention snapped to her sister, to the people who waved and smiled at her as they passed. This didn’t make sense. Everyone loved Mercy. Hunter’s throat tightened. And worse, they were saying something so bad that Jax, the guy who used to pull spaghetti